little miss cocoa

A giant billboard made of chocolate?

Brilliance. Delicious, three hour long brilliance.

And what’s up with all the little kids? If I were there, I’d be shoving them all aside like a giant, ice-breaking ship.

I’ve been curious about Vosges chocolates ever since their bars started popping up in Whole Foods chocolate aisles. Chocolate and curry? Wasabi? Chicory? Olives? Oaxacan guajillo y pasilla chillies? What stopped me from buying was the exorbitant price: $7 for an incredibly slender, 3 ounce bar.

Of course, when Vosges rolled out a bacon bar, I caved and took the subway to their Soho store. Bacon! In a bar! Applewood smoked!

The store is sleekly lined in dark purple, more spa boutique than chocolate shop, which is not so far off the mark since Vosges also has a yoga clothing and chocolate line. Behind a high marble display case, a couple of pretty women generally ignored me. Which was fine; I was more interested in the selection of chocolate bars than the miniature, uber-expensive truffles stacked behind the glass. As I browsed the shelves, a duo of Japanese tourists nursed fancy drinks, their shopping bags pooled around their feet. There was nothing particularly wrong with this picture. So what was off? In my vast and happy experience, chocolate shops are places of delight and deliciousness, of encouraged indulgence. Vosges was, to me, more like a store selling expensively pocketed jeans and velour sweatshirts. The air was idle and bored, decals peeling off the wall. Even the track lighting seemed dull. When I brought my Bacon Exotic Candy Bar and a small bag of Black Pearl Exotic Chocolate Chips ($8.50) to the counter, the woman barely looked at me as she rang up my purchase. In front of me, a bundle of ridiculously priced, thumbnail sized truffles sat in innocent rows. Most ridiculous among them was a twelve piece, Swarovski studded box of truffles going for $275.

Why am I so obsessed with price? Chocolate is decadence at its most glorious, it should delight and satiate. The offerings at Vosges seemed more like expensive feather ticklers than good, slow kisses. Even the staff seemed bored with the chocolates. (Tickling? Ha ha… dull as beans.)

Verdict? My exotic bar was decently tasty. I had all my friends try it, just for the novelty. But chocolate covered bacon is more gimmick than delicious. After a small square and a ‘whoa, that’s meat,’ everyone was done with bacon chocolate for good.

There’s something to be said for innovation, but I don’t think that all the inventively olive and wasabi chocolate in the world will ever be as transcendentally tasty as an espresso truffle from Jacques Torres. So much for seven dollar chocolate bars.

P.S. Last winter, I snagged a catalog from the store without buying any chocolate (sticker shock killed my appetite) and spent an evening giggling and highlighting all the phrases that I found particularly inane: ‘Hickory smoked almonds, a tasty, nutty, textural bliss buried in caramel noted milk chocolate, provide protein, fiber, and vitamin E. Your tongue sings as sea salt arrives carrying vital minerals that offset the sweet in your mouth and balance electrolytes throughout your body. Eat chocolate… free yourself.’

The Vosges Haut-Chocolat Soho Boutique is located at 132 Spring Street, between Green and Wooster. Bring your smallest stomach and your fattest wallet.

At 5:05 am, I awoke, hauled my pre-packed bag onto my back, and totted down the empty streets of my neighborhood to the subway. In spite of my heroic effort, 450 people still arrived at Central Park before me to wait in line for tickets to see the last performance of Romeo and Juliet. Over the course of seven hours, the sun rose higher and hotter until I was huddled beneath my orange pig umbrella and straw hat, a small limp pile of polka dotted dress. I still did not get tickets. Romeo and Juliet, the tragedy.

As a consolation prize, I walked to my favorite Upper West Side chocolate spot, the Levain Bakery. It’s hard to spot, partly because (much to the detriment of all involved) it is located beneath the much flashier Max Wax. But I found it, descended the short steep stairs, and was surrounded by cookie and bakers with blue kerchiefs wrapped around their heads. The four cookies offered always look delicious, but I always get walnut and chocolate chip. The chocolate-chocolate is so intense it caused gagging in at least one unprepared friend (be prepared to share with a family of seven and their ravenous goat), and the oatmeal raisin is, though certainly delicious, definitely lacking in chocolate.

My preferred cookie is a six ounce heap of walnut and chocolate, even bigger than my two hands knotted together. The chocolate is always still melted, the walnuts still warm, the edges of cookie still snappably crisp, the center of cookie still gooey as pudding. And the happiness lasts; the cookies are so large they inspire their own orbits of envious moons.

So Juliet dies. As does Romeo. Life is short. Eat big cookies.

Levain Bakery is located at West 74th and Amsterdam Avenues, just two blocks West of Central Park. Buy milk next door, or trot down to Pioneer Grocery at West 74th and Columbus. You’ll need a gallon.