On garbage/green bin/recycling day each week, it’s my job to go through the fridge and toss out browning herbs, limp celery and blue cheese that wasn’t blue when we bought it. Last week I found a nearly empty package of Ghirardelli bitter-sweet chocolate chips. There were maybe 5 tiny chips kicking around in there so I poured them into my hand and tossed the foil bag. By the third chip, I was audibly “mmm!”-ing. I guess when I bought them to make chocolate pudding I didn’t try any on their own, and attributed the delicious end result to the holiness of pudding. I mean, chocolate pudding is always good, who thinks about why?
That empty bag of bitter-sweet chips was replaced no more than two days later, with no pudding or chocolate recipe on the horizon. I’m smuggling them into the cinema with me, if they last until my next movie outing–they’re so much tastier than concession-stand options. And I have my incentive to make them last until then. I’ve already imagined alternating melting those chips on my tongue with crunching kernels of salty popcorn and now I won’t rest until I experience that.