Tasting Chocolate
Earlier this month, I attended a virtual chocolate tasting with my sister-in-law Janet, the other chocolate lover in the family. My favorite chocolatier in Seattle, Chef Lauren Adler, led the tasting of three single-origin bars made from Dominican cacao beans crafted by Kahkaw. The dark brown pieces melted smoothly in my mouth, leaving me marveling at the wide range of notes from olive to rum to ripe banana.
Janet asked about my favorite bar out of the three. The choice should have been straightforward but I found myself caught in a long pause. What I loved the most about this experience was that I was tasting chocolates.
And I always had this craving for everything chocolatey. The funny thing was, as I grew up in China in the late 80s, chocolate wasn't a thing there. How did I even know that chocolate existed then?
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My father joked that his trade of import and export made him an unofficial ambassador between China and the rest of the world. The business took him to Europe, North America, and far edges on the map - Fiji, South Africa, Honduras - to name a few. And when he was away for most of the year, child-rearing fell onto my mother, a diligent researcher on sustainable energy policy who only migrated to her desk in dim lighting to read and write after I dozed off each night.
I don't, however, remember ever dreading my father's absence. On one hand, my mother lovingly kept me fed, educated, and entertained from dawn to bedtime. On the other hand, my father's grand return from each trip only kept me excited.
After each expedition, his tales of wonders echoed off the grey bricks of our home under the grey sky peppered with humble grey birds: The ginormous and braggingly colorful Toucan in Panama attempting to pick on his nose. A narrow escape from an armed robbery in Cape Town because he entered the wrong neighborhood. His peeling skin after a short trip to the sandy beach of Honolulu and the emergency purchase of a braggingly colorful beach shirt, unusual for his black-white-grey wardrobe. Those stories painted a much bigger world than my little mind could imagine.
He rarely got himself anything on those trips (except for that one Hawaiian shirt), but there was always a hefty stash of goodies for me. I'd crawl into his suitcase before he even got a chance to wash off the fatigue of his long voyage. Bulky toys took too much space, instead, my father made sure to keep me up to speed with what kids the rest of the world snacked on: cookies rich in butter and dusted with sugar crystals, lollipops that whistled and colored my tongue red or purple, and chocolate candies I had never seen in stores at home. KitKat, M&M, Ferrero Rocher, Maltesers, Merci, Toffifee, Ritter Sport, Milka, Toblerone, Nutella, Kinder, Guylian Belgium Seashells. The list went on, and I loved chocolate's rich, bittersweet, and smooth tastes. I paced my consumption carefully so that each stash lasted until my father's next return.
As more western snacks crowded Chinese grocery stores over the years, and as I ventured to Europe and then to the U.S., I ate more chocolate candies and chocolates than I could remember their names. I started to appreciate the making of the chocolates, where each bar narrates the roads cacao beans, cacao farmers, chocolate makers, and traders have traveled. The joy of discovery hooked me to connect with local chocolatiers when I moved to a new place. What satisfied my taste buds and curiosity wound up building roots and making me feel at home.
***
Little did I know, my love for chocolate is not just for unwrapping the crinkling paper, savoring exotic flavors, and learning fascinating facts. I have always been on the lookout for the next bar the same way I longed for my father's coming home and unveiling an unknown part of the world.
My love for chocolate is, above all, for the taste of home.
P.s. Spending the majority of 2020 in the lockdown solitude wiping down groceries, connecting over screens, and remaining levelheaded under information/disinformation made this year an ultimate test to one's rationality and emotional resilience. In closing this year, I recognized the sense of loss it brought, but more so the gratitude for the people in my life and people working hard to restore our lives back to "normal" so that we feel at home again.
Until then, hopefully soon, I will savor a piece of chocolate instead. Happy 2021!
