As Camille and I walked through town this afternoon, we came across a French bakery. Fluffy croissants and muffins enlivened the display window and espresso beans filled the air. We heard this place had desserts as well, so we poked around until we found the counter in the back of the store. Elegant macaroons, cakes, and chocolate boxes filled the shelves. The chocolates were calling to us.
We asked the woman behind the counter if she could show us the chocolates closer. She picked a box from the display and opened it, unveiling nine perfectly arranged chocolates of different shapes and flavors. But if we wanted one, we had to buy the entire box.
“How much for the box?” I questioned.
“Twenty six dollars and fifty cents,” she responded promptly.
“Okay, I’ll take one. It must be worth the price.”
There Camille and I sat, eating each decadent chocolate as if it were the first time and last time we would ever try it. Every bite was savored, each flavor experienced. We saved four pieces for a rainy day—a day when we’ll need to be reminded of wha the good life tastes like.
We left the French eatery satisfied at our chocolate excursion, grateful for the opportunity of encountering these special treats.
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You’re postulations are correct. This story is a lie. Camille and I did walk into a French bakery in town today, and we did explore the rich box of chocolates. But we didn’t buy it. How could anybody justify spending $26.50 on chocolate on a regular Sunday afternoon? I love chocolate. I could eat a dark chocolate bar a day and never get sick of it. In fact, last week I bought three chocolate bars on sale for only $2.61 and ate them in three days.
And guess what? Those were my three best days in recent memory. I was in love with myself and the chocolate as I respectfully devoured it. I was filled with joy and peace and a sense of completeness. Nothing mattered in the moments of my chocolate indulgence. The only available emotion was love. And each bar was worth 87 cents.
The richest chocolate in the world is the chocolate you slow down for and make the time to savor. Don’t fall into the expensive trap (that is, if it’s expensive it must taster better and, therefore, should be savored). You make chocolate decadent by experiencing it fully. If you never slow down to taste it, there’s never any difference between quality and experience. You’re just overpaying for a Hershey’s bar.
The richest chocolate in the world is the chocolate you slow down for and make the time to savor. Trust me, that Trader Joe’s dark chocolate peanut butter cup would have made Jesus cry tears of joy.