Now with that kind of freedom in a box of chocolates as a child, perhaps you can see why I have a fine appreciation for the delectable now. When we travel, we often come across a chocolate shop where the chocolates are made on the premises and the person who serves you is also the person who made what they’re serving. When we were in Portland, Oregon we went into Moonstruck Chocolates several times. Then in Seattle, there was a mocha café. It was almost worth the price of airfare. One time one of my sisters returned from a trip to New York City with a beautiful chocolate assortment from MarieBelle. When we went to Asheville, we stumbled across two artisan chocolate shops without even trying. It’s not like we seek them out. They just happened to be located where we are going. But it does seem like a good little hobby – to seek out the quaint chocolate shops on our journeys.
And then, in today’s newspaper, before my very eyes, were several articles about local chocolate makers and local chocolate shops. It’s quite amusing to think that these makers thought they could go along and I’d never discover them but someone slipped up somewhere and now I know. I know they are there. I have their addresses. I have their store hours. I know where to find them. The dark chocolates, the ganache filled, the caramel filled, the truffles . . . they are there and soon I will be too.