Our buddy Jeff is a man of mystery.
He travels the globe, doing great and wondrous deeds, and two years now he has brought us fine Chocolate. Last year it was French, and this year it was Belgian.
I’m not going to lie to you, I always thought Hershey’s was the best. Well, Lindt was a close second. And Dove was nothing to sneeze at. But I was raised in O-ByGod-HIO, where we like things ‘Merican as we can get them.
All I could say when I opened this package of lovelies was “Oh. Dear. God.”
The smell alone was enough to give me palpitations.
But when I bit into one of these lovely truffles, the moans were heard all the way out into the family room. It didn’t take long for Varmint and My Captain to come into the kitchen and pilfer my gilded Belgian bag of chocolaty goodness.
We didn’t look at the bad news until AFTER we had had several a piece. (I couldn’t hold my hand still for the picture from the rush of sugar, caffeine, and endorphins coursing through my plague-encrusted arteries.)
And now, even though we are not Catholic, we feel compelled to go to confession.
Thanks, Jeff! You shouldn’t have! (But heck-yes we are glad you did!)