Target Chocolate Taste-Test

Chocolate is my Waterloo. I could make serious life-choice mistakes while under the influence of chocolate. So when my local Target began to carry dark chocolate flavored with amazingly exotic flavors, I grew weak in the knees and strong on directional instincts. My car knows the way to Target all by itself. All I have to do is wave an empty Lindt wrapper under its nose and it’s off.

Target has a house brand called Choxie. It offers a variety of flavors in light and dark. Being a dark-aholic, I tried the dark Key lime flavor. I also purchased a Lindt dark bar flavored with Orange bits, a dark with chili peppers, and a Frey dark chocolate with lemon and pepper. I really like the flavors of peppers, although I am not a fan of spice so strong that my mouth hurts.

The Choxie Key Lime had an interesting filling–bright taste, which might be limey. Had I not had the bright green package to remind me it was lime, I might have simply thought “sour,” or maybe “lemon.” But the greatest disappointment on this bar is that the chocolate doesn’t taste like dark chocolate. It tastes like white chocolate, which is to say, not like chocolate at all. I remember in the 70s someone told me that carob tasted just like chocolate and was much better for you. I bought a carob bar and thought I’d bitten into the wrapper. Nope, it was the carob, which, to paraphrase Douglas Adams, tastes completely not unlike wet cardboard.

If you are a white chocolate aficionado, my apologies, but white chocolate has less chocolate flavor than the skin tanning coco butter, which it resembles in taste, if not smell. Coco butter tan cream smells more like chocolate. There are a few white chocolate producers who substitute solidified vegetable oil for coco butter in their white chocolate. Makes it easier to work with. Which sums up my interest in white chocolate.

Back to Choxie. For the price, not so bad, if you are not deeply into chocolate. Unfortunately for Choxie, it’s got no Moxie. Not for me.

Lindt is a Swiss chocolate maker for whom I have deep respect. Their dark chocolate is deep, rich, and avoids the pitfalls of many of the darkest chocolates–sour, sharp aftertastes. Their intense Orange is just that–it tastes intensely and unmistakably of real orange–the slightly bitter pulp and the rich, sweet juice. The bar is thin and the orange bits a bit crunchy. At less than $2 a bar, this is worth driving to Target for.

Lindt also makes a dark chocolate with Chili peppers. So far, it’s a clear favorite. The peppers make their presence known as a warm heat on the tongue and palate, balanced by the intensity of dark chocolate. It is absolutely perfectly balanced. Even the picture on the wrapper is wonderful, with a pure red chili pepper against dark chocolate–exactly what to expect.

Frey (the bar tells you to pronounce it “fray”) is another Swiss chocolate maker. I purchased their Lemon/Black pepper bar. How could a pepper love like me resist? I was hoping for a tang of tart lemon, followed by the floral spice of good pepper. It didn’t happen. The dark chocolate was fine, no complaints, but the lemon was simply sour and I still haven’t found any evidence of pepper.

I’m willing to give Frey another chance with another flavor, but so far Lindt is the quality winner. Guess I’ll just have to head over and pick another couple of bars.

–Image: Choxie Key Lime bar and Lindt Intense Orange photograph by Quinn McDonald, who is loving the idea of reviewing chocolate. As she buys wine by the graphic design of the label, she may be better off as the chocolate critic. She also teaches writing, journaling, and is a certified creativity coach. (c) 2008 All rights reserved.

Rambutan: Who knew?

Rambutans look like lychees (or litchees) with spiked hair. The spikes are soft and red, adding a whole new dimension to the fruit. I’ve eaten them fresh in Singapore, but here in the States, the canned ones are easier to find.

Until last week, when I found them freeze dried at Trader Joe’s. I had to buy a bag. It takes a while to break into the bag, because freeze dried items are crispy from lack of humidity.

Now, rambutans are juicy and lightly sweet and a bit tart. So I wasn’t sure how I’d like a crispy one. But the taste is amazingly rambutan-like, and the texture is extremely satisfying.

Don’t know if I’d put them in my cereal, but eating them out of the bag is a treat not to be missed!

===Quinn McDonald is a certified creativity coach married to a personal chef. As soon as the house sells in Virginia, they can continue their lives together.  See her work at QuinnCreative.com

Speaking Spanish, Sort of

When I moved to Arizona, I decided I’d like to learn Spanish. I’m a bit long in the tooth to go to a traditional class, and time is at a premium while I’m building my training business, but still. . .

So my language lessons come in the grocery store. I shop at Hispanic markets, most of which are simply wonderful, stocked with helpful, friendly employees, who smile when I ask for help–for both ingredients and language.

I’m only a bit embarrassed to admit that my vocabulary of baked goods and snacks is a lot better than for meat and vegetables. That photo on the left is of dried hibiscus blossoms, used to steep a tea, which is then chilled and served over ice as aqua fresca, “fresh water” or an ice tea that is bright red, herbal and delicious. In Spanish, ‘hibiscus’ is ‘jamaica,’ which explains a lot.

Last night I had a tiny breakthrough, but breakthrough it was. I walked into a store, managed to buy shrimp without too much difficulty, although I mangled the numbers, not knowing whether I was asking for 12 shrimp or 12 pounds of shrimp. ( Not to put too fine a point on it, had I been in a big box store, the employee would have shrugged and piled up 12 pounds of shrimp, because they are not trained to think, just get you out the door.) The woman behind the counter asked, in English, if I wanted 12 shrimp (one pound) or 12 pounds. She then told me the difference in Spanish. I had learned something.

Next I was off to the bakery counter. I said, “Yo quiero dos empanadas, por favor. Uno de crema y uno de pina.” (I’d like two turnovers, please. One cheese and one pineapple.) The clerk picked up a tray and a bag and asked, in Spanish, “for here or to go?” I’d never heard the expression for ‘to go,’ but I figured it out from the tray and bag. I pointed toward the bag, and said, “to go,” using the same words he had used. He didn’t blink, handed me the bag, and I said, “Gracias.” (Thank you.) I then walked to the check out stand, and when the checker said, (in Spanish), “the empanadas are fresh, huh?” I said, also in Spanish, “I like fresh empanadas. They are yummy.” She rang me up and told me how much I owed. In Spanish. Fast. If it hadn’t been for the screen with the number on it, I would have had to admit I had no idea how much to pay.

The joy in the three minutes from bakery to check out, no one had to correct me, and I was spoken to in Spanish. That means that my Spanish is good enough to be understood, grammatical enough not to mark me as a slow learner, and idiomatic enough to elicit Spanish responses. Tiny victory, but I’m grinning. Pineapple empanadaas are a little piece of heaven.

–Image: photograph of dried hibiscus blossoms, Quinn McDonald. Story and image, (c) 2008, All rights reserved. Quinn McDonald is a life-long learner and a training developer in, well, communication topics. See her work at QuinnCreative.com

Perfect Southerwestern Dinner Menu

Not far from where I live is the Mercado Hacienda (Spanish for Ranch or Plantation Store). If you live in the Phoenix area, mark your maps–it’s at the Southeast corner of the intersection of University and Country Club in Mesa. It’s a small store, but the ingredient list is perfect for a great little dinner.

Next month, when Kent comes to visit, I want to do the cooking. He’s a personal chef, so I want to make sure he gets a vacation. Here’s the menu:

Drinks: Rum and fruit juice. The mercado carries guayaba (guava), tamarind, guanabana (soursop), mango, pear and pineapple. I prefer the fruit juice, but there is also a powder mix that would work well. It comes in pineapple, mango, guava, and my favorite, jamaica. I didn’t know that ‘jamaica’ is Spanish for ‘hibiscus.’ You can learn a lot in a grocery store.

Appetizers: The mercado has the best guacamole I’ve ever eaten. My husband’s was my favorite until I tasted this. Even he will agree that the rough-chop mix of perfectly-ripe, pale-green avocado studded with lime, jalapenos, red pepper flakes and onion is a perfect mix of spicy, but not fiery, ingredients. You can taste the fire and the sour tang of the lime, but the bland, creamy avocado soothes your tongue. I’ll cut up fresh corn tortillas and fry them to make nachos, hot and salty, for the guacamole.

Main course: Grilled shrimp tacos. The mercado has mouth watering meats, shrimp and fish. I’m going to get some of the larger shrimp, grill them under the broiler, and wrap them in hot flour tortillas filled with field greens, slivers of jicama and red pepper and moistened with green salsa, also from the mercado.

Dessert: I’ve got some choices here and haven’t made up my mind. I can certainly make Meyer Lemon posset and serve it over berries. Or the incredibly smooth coconut sorbet topped with dark chocolate shavings. Or keep it simple. Just a few grinds of pink, black, and green peppercorns over premium French vanilla ice cream.

Think I can get him to stay for a few days?

—Images: Soursop, on left, http://www.css.cornell.edu Guava, on right, http://www.tropicalfruitnursery.com –Quinn McDonald learned cooking basics from her mother, who was French. She practiced on various dates, unsuspecting visitors, and her son, until she became quite good at putting together a decent meal from a few, well chosen ingredients. You can see more, but different work of Quinn’s at QuinnCreative.com (c) 2008 All rights reserved.