NY Girl Eats World

The Last Vestiges of Christmas

Christmas may be over, but as you can see, I haven't put all the ornaments away yet.

I'm rationing myself one of these golf ball-size beauties per day.  OK, I occasionally share. I divide the truffle (fork tines cracking through a chocolate shell and sinking satisfyingly into a gooey middle). And I give my husband the smaller half.

Chocolate is a fail-safe gift for this hostess. Still, I lightly gasped when I lifted the lid on these particularly gorgeous truffles, all studded and striped in raspberry-pink, winter-white and buttery-gold.

For the next 12 days it would be Christmas all over again with each surprising bite: salted caramel? raspberry? coconut? I'd look longingly at the box well before breakfast and modify the drinker's motto: It's 12 o'clock somewhere!

The truffles came from the Sayville Chocolatier  on Long Island's southern shore. It turns out that my truffles are not only a reminder of the wonderment of Christmas — but, as I listen to the wind howling through the concrete valleys of Manhattan Island, they remind me of the other island I used to call home.

 

My Chocolate Friend

I know I've been quiet for a loooong, inexcusable time. But you can thank a 16-inch-tall chocolicious bunny for pulling me out of my neglectful state.

How could I not share photos of this choco-cutie with you?

He was an Easter surprise that arrived at my office in a big box filled with styrofoam peanuts. As soon as I pulled him out of his crate — he was wrapped in clear cellophane tied with green and purple bows — I began to have visions.

No, not of eating him — although the aroma of chocolate that wafted through the wrapping was vaguely torturous and certainly tempting.

Instead, I envisioned myself cradling the bunny in my arms and carrying him home. He would sit on my lap on the subway, his ears perked, for all other passengers to admire.

(To covet, really. I wanted them to be jealous!)

But my selfish motives melted away as fast as the chocolate on my tongue. After a reverent photo shoot capturing Mr. Bunny in all his proud glory, he was dismantled into hundreds of pieces — enough to stuff a gallon-sized Ziploc bag — and shared with all the colleagues who were tortured by his sweet aroma to begin with. 

Surprisingly, the rabbit was as yummy to eat as he was to look at. He was a luscious dark chocolate instead of a cloying Hershey's-style milk chocolate (although, to be honest, I can go for that trash chocolate from time to time, too). It might take us weeks to finish him (or not). But we'll savor all his pieces as we did his magnificent whole.

HAPPY EASTER, EVERYONE!