Amedei Tuscany Toscano Red Cioccolato Fondente Extra 70% con Fragole, Ciliegie e Lamponi (70% Cacao with Strawberry, Cherry, and Raspberry)

50g (1.75 oz) bar

Ingredients: Cocoa mass, cane sugar, cocoa butter, dried fruit (strawberry, cherry, raspberry; 10%), vanilla

I had a little spree at Chocolopolis, buying several bars that were different from my norm, and the one that has called to me the loudest since then is this red-fruit bar [scroll down] from Amedei. It's loveable: The wrapper is pretty, it lists the ingredients in six languages, and the inside is covered in dense, flowery text in phrases like “pleasure and transgression,” “evoking childhood memories,” and “full aromatic potential.” (I know I'm being hypocritical, but come on—it's Italian.)

This is an appealing, super-accessible bar. It's a medium chocolate shade, not too glossy or dull, and the back reminds me of a less-uniform, magenta-studded Nestle Crunch bar. The chocolate smells nutty and fresh, like the freeze dried raspberries you can buy at upscale groceries and camping stores, and it tastes like that too. I'm not sure I get a lot of strawberry, mostly because the tang strikes me as raspberry (perhaps because of the palpable raspberry seeds) and a bit of sour cherry, but then again, unsweetened strawberries have a similar tartness that may be there too. The bits of fruit are lightly crispy, substantial but not chewy, with a bright flavor. The chocolate is also bright and clean and a bit sour, not super intense or dark or bland, which meshes well with the fruit.

Conclusion: Amedei's 70% bar with strawberries, cherries, and raspberries is fresh, fruity, and easy to eat. 

Claudio Corallo 3 Locuras de Cafés com Chocolate

150g box

Ingredients: Cocoa, sugar, cocoa butter, coffee

I bought Claudio Corallo's chocolate covered coffee beans after trying one in the store and liking it, but also in no small part because I was about to take a road trip and thought they might be a good way to stay awake. Fortunately I wasn't driving when I opened the box, as it turned out to be a bit more complicated than just a bag of candy: Nestled in the box were three neatly rolled cellophane bags labeled CAT 1, BB 2, and NM 3, and a full-size piece of paper printed on the front and back. An intriguing start, to say the least.

In brief, the note explains that the three bags contain three different coffee varieties—CAT, BB, and NM—and though all are Arabica, from the same plantation, and covered in the same 55% cacao chocolate, the flavors of the three types of beans are distinct, offering a sort of tasting adventure. Instructions recommend that tasters try the chocolate in the order given, and describe the sensations that should come across.

CAT is expected to hit with a strong punch and then vanish with little lingering coffee flavor, and I that is indeed how I experienced it. The bean has the bitter flavor I associate with a darker roast (mind you, I'm no coffee connoisseur), a contrast with the sweet chocolate on the outside. Once I swallow it, the coffee is virtually gone, with just a hint remaining from anything stuck in my teeth. (How's that for an appetizing image?)

According to the note, BB should taste only of chocolate at first, with coffee then arriving “sweet,” “delicate,” and “with extraordinary persistence,” sticking around “longer than the chocolate.” That sounds about right: To me, this confection tastes mellow, sweet, and creamy, more melded with the chocolate than the CAT was, and with a long aftertaste. It's like a good, rich mocha drink.

The NM is less vividly described, only as a “rare equilibrium” and “unique experience that will linger.” To my taste it's both less and more interesting than the other two: While the CAT was a bit harsh and the BB very enjoyable in an easy way, the NM seems more delicate but also subtly pleasant, like a mocha I could drink every day without being over-bittered (CAT) or riched-out (BB). I'm not sure that's what Claudio Corallo was getting at, but I will say that for general snacking, NM is my favorite of the three.

Of course, I can't forget the chocolate! I like it because it's thankfully non-shellacked, more soft chocolate than hard gloss, which I think matches much better with a crispy coffee bean than the common shiny coating. The flavor might be a bit sweet for me personally—I'm tasting more cream and sugar than deep fruit—but I do think that if it were more than 60-70% cacao it wouldn't balance the coffee well, and I'd allow that even 70% might be too dark to highlight the distinctions among the beans.

What really struck me about this set of chocolate covered coffee beans is that it engenders an interactive experience (review blog or no) and that I found the predictions borne out even by my only semi-sensitive palate. Very cool.

Conclusion: Claudio Corallo 3 Locuras de Cafés com Chocolate is a unique, guided tasting experience.

A Reflection on Changing Tastes

Blogging about chocolate week after week has changed my tastes in the stuff. It's less the eating than the self-reflection: determining what makes one bar different from another, noticing patterns in what I like and what I don't, and adjusting my preferences as new bars challenge my senses.

Some of the changes are ones I expected, like a tendency to prefer darker (say 85% cacao) or lighter (60-70%) chocolate depending on what I've been eating lately. The same goes for other flavor elements and textural variations, which I seem to like in different ways at different times. Sometimes a new sensation can be impressive in part because it is novel; if I try that chocolate again later, I might think it's bland, or too strong, or a bit off. I try to be mindful of this phenomenon when I declare that a bar's flavor is well-balanced or overly sweet or sour or whatnot, but no matter what, my tastes are as changeable as anyone else's.

I have discovered some constants. Occasionally I'm blown away by a small piece of a chocolate with a distinctive flavor—it's like taking a bite of good funky cheese—but by the same token, I don't usually want a large chunk of it. For standard size bars, I like something that isn't too sour or bitter but is complex enough that I want to keep eating. Texturally, I generally prefer a more waxy or creamy chocolate to a brittle or chalky one. I don't care much about sheen, though. A glossy bar can be creamy and smooth or unpalatably fatty tasting, and a dull one can be rich and deeply chocolatey or crumbly and bland, so while I note appearance, it doesn't mean much to me.

As far as inclusions and flavorings go, I like those that have a real presence. What I think of as good dark chocolate isn't a blank canvas, it's interesting and varied and perfumed; any extracts or pieces should complement the chocolate in intensity, neither overwhelming nor being overwhelmed. The few exceptions to this rule have been when I believed the chocolatier specifically wanted the additional flavor to bring out a new dimension of the chocolate. I've tasted this with spices and occasionally fruit, and of course there's the vanilla in many chocolate bars, which usually doesn't scream “vanilla” so much as quietly enhance the chocolate itself.

I feel similarly about texture. Inclusions might add interest or variation, crunch, chew, whatever, but they shouldn't cause me to ask “what are they trying to do with this?” I once ate a (never-reviewed) bar that was supposed to be fruit flavored but tasted like it had some sort of vaguely fruity candy dust embedded in it. The flavoring had neither the taste nor the texture of the fruit on the label and, seen from another angle, wasn't so counter to expectations that I would think it to be intentionally challenging—it was just gritty, bland candy. Bleh.

Finally, my reaction to certain brands has changed over time. I've always admired Theo's methods and goals, bold inclusions and flavorings, and sampling experience, but now that I've tried it many times over, I find its basic 70% chocolate to be too sour and not a good match for some of its pairings. (By contrast, I've been very impressed by many of the confections and some of the lighter bars, including but by no means limited to the super-creamy 45% cacao milk chocolate bar and the outstanding vanilla bar.) Once upon a time, my go-to dark bar was Endangered Species' 88%, but I now prefer Green & Black's 85% and have actually turned several friends onto that bar as well. My preferences may change yet again, as I'm trying more high-end chocolate and appreciating what it offers that cheaper bars cannot. But then, I suspect my financial constraints will keep my head out of the clouds.

Admittedly this post is pretty darned self-indulgent (okay, the whole blog is self-indulgent), but I think it's important. Even if they come across as the final word on a product, reviews are inherently subjective, and it's nice to remind myself of that once in a while.

Claudio Corallo Chocolate Laranja

1.76oz (50g) bar

Ingredients: Cocoa, sugar, crystallized orange peel, cocoa butter

Chocolate with orange is not a novel flavor combination. Christmas wouldn't be the same to many Americans without the interactive, decadent fun of a Terry's chocolate orange. Theo's Classic collection takes a more restrained approach with a dark chocolate bar infused with orange oil. And for all out orange flavor, many confectioners offer chocolate covered sticks of orange jelly or glaceed orange peel—sometimes chewy, sometimes soft, but always more syrupy candy than sultry chocolate.

So what's so special about Claudio Corallo's take? Well, it's just different. For starters, Claudio Corallo's bars don't look like the usual, orange or otherwise. The finish is dull, not glossy, and the bars don't appear molded but rather spread thin and cut into rectangular slabs. (They also come two slabs to a “bar” or, in the larger package, as several slabs nestled tightly in a cardboard box.) There's something appealing about a matte finish and an imperfect shape, something rawer and closer to the bean than what's apparent from the candy-gloss surface of a precisely molded product. What's more, the bars smell like the tropics, a heady perfume of flowers and fruit, nothing spicy or caramelized or Christmasy about them.

Back to the orange: Claudio Corallo is using 75% cacao, and for what it's worth, there is no vanilla or other flavoring besides the orange. The soft crystallized orange pieces, lightly scattered within the bar, are more slightly bitter orange than sugar; they're not so much a tangible orange candy as a subtle flavor element. I found the chocolate and orange to be inseparable, so I will describe them together as sweet and orange-fragrant, with the barest touch of tang and a long finish. The flavor is not bitter or especially intense, but I also wouldn't describe it as mild, because it doesn't have the creamy, muted smoothness of some bars. It's treading the line between raw and finished, tropical bean and mellow candy. I find it fairly sweet, so to my taste I could have used a darker chocolate, but I imagine it's plenty dark for most people and I do think it strikes a good balance.

As I've said, this stuff ain't cheap, but it's a very interesting way to calibrate your palate, explore the boundaries of what chocolate and citrus can be, and transport yourself to the tropics in a way that American and European chocolates usually don't.

Conclusion: Claudio Corallo's Chocolate Laranja bar may not be what you always want from your chocolate and orange, but it's worth at least one visit—and a few dedicated minutes to sit, savor, and reflect.

We'll Be Back After the Break

I have a whole post lined up for today, but I misplaced my camera cord and can't download any photos. Taking a mini hiatus until I figure out what to do.


Update 8/28: Picked up another one. Back on track. 

Chocolate Shops: Claudio Corallo

I was perusing Seattle Weekly's annual Best of Seattle issue a couple weeks ago when I zeroed in on the category “Best Place to Taste Chocolate,” and found that their pick surprised me: Claudio Corallo, a store I'd never heard of. I was even more intrigued when I visited the company's website, because all of Claudio Corallo's products are 70% cacao and higher—score!—and I vowed to visit the Seattle flagship store post haste.

On the weekday afternoon when I pulled up to Claudio Corallo, I was surprised to see that the shop was full of people. It turned out that a group from a nearby business had come in for a semi-private tasting, and I'd barged in mid-presentation. The proprietor was rather occupied but also gracious, and she suggested I come back in ten minutes, by which time most of the other customers had left and I was able to try samples and ask questions.

Let's get something out of the way: This is expensive chocolate, more than $4 per ounce for a single bar. But that's not really bad news, just an indication that it's a whole different product from most of the other bars you see on grocery store shelves. Most of us don't eat at three-star restaurants frequently, but on the occasion that we do, we appreciate the effort and artistry that makes it something our Wednesday night stir-fries are not. It's this perspective from which I approach pricey, high-quality chocolate.

The company

Claudio Corallo the person is a gentleman who operates his own plantation and chocolate processing facility on the islands of Sao Tome and Principe, off the coast of West Africa. His operation is essentially dirt-to-bar, because it involves everything from farming all the way to choosing sugar and inclusions. Claudio Corallo the company imports Corallo's finished products and sells them in a selection of retail stores and online. The current Seattle flagship location opened late in '09, though online reviews indicate a previous storefront in another part of town.

The tasting experience

When I first stopped in at Claudio Corallo, I watched as the organized group ate every offered sample excitedly and, at the conclusion of the presentation, immediately began dropping $20s on the items that had impressed them the most. It's a vivid illustration of why every high-end chocolatier ought to offer plentiful samples: Sampling done right can engender goodwill, encourage informed questions, and produce repeat customers who bring friends. There's no better way to up-sell than to have customers come up with the idea themselves, and on a personal level, if I'm going to pay dearly, I want to walk out with something I absolutely love.

Claudio Corallo offers a more guided tasting than Theo Chocolate. Rather than piling pieces up for unlimited self-service, Claudio Corallo's proprietor stands behind the counter with a pair of tongs, describing the choices and doling out slivers of bars and confections. The options, slightly broader than what's listed on the website, include a 100% chocolate bar; several other high-cacao options; an 80% bar with coarse sugar for textural variation; bars with orange pieces, ginger pieces, or nibs; chocolate-enrobed coffee beans or candied ginger; loose nibs; whole roasted beans; and a couple more complicated bars that involve nuts, dried fruit, and spices combined and sprinkled on top of chocolate. Additionally, the store has partnered with a nearby restaurant to occasionally offer chocolate pastries and other desserts.

I didn't want to spend too much, and so was left to narrow down among several favorites. I put off buying the whole beans, though I loved them: A new experience for me, they were nutty-crisp and not nearly as intense as I had expected. Similarly, I enjoyed the nib bar's contrast between the nibs' texture and near-airiness and the sweetness of the chocolate that surrounded them. I finally bought a box of chocolate-covered coffee beans and the outstanding orange bar (reviews to follow), and definitely plan to stop into Claudio Corallo again.

Endangered Species Dark Chocolate with Hazelnut Toffee 72%

3oz (85g) bar

Ingredients: Bittersweet chocolate (chocolate liquor, beet sugar, cocoa butter, soy lecithin, vanilla), hazelnut toffee (butter [cream, salt], beet sugar, roasted hazelnuts, tapioca syrup, soy lecithin)

13g sugar/43g serving (30.2& by wt.)

My favorite candies pre-sugar restriction were Sour Patch Kids and the like, super-sour chewy wads of sugar that I frequently craved and often purchased en masse from pay-by-weight mall candy stores. In the long run, though, the sugar, corn derivatives, and artificial colors and flavors were tangibly empty calories: I would scarf them mechanically until I realized I'd eaten the whole bag, and then I'd feel a bit ill. On the other hand, caramels and toffees, while not my treats of choice, actually satisfied. One or two pieces provided buttery richness and gave my teeth a workout, and I would think, “That was tasty, and I've had enough candy.” Now imagine me in my current state, deprived of creamy sweets, and you're sure to understand why I occasionally pick up Endangered Species' toffee bar. It's usually not expensive and sometimes even on sale, and it slides below my 1/3 sugar limit despite including candy as an ingredient. I appreciate that it's an option.

The inevitable downside of this bar is that it's not all that good. Don't get me wrong, it's not terrible or I'd stop buying it, but it doesn't live up to the name. The chocolate is Endangered Species' usual simple sweetness (I'm starting to wonder if using exclusively beet sugar affects the taste in some way); I keep detecting an odd cooling sensation, like a very subtle mint or menthol; and the toffee is undetectable as fragrance or flavor, its presence limited to the texture of a few small crunchy crystals. And I won't even touch on the promise of hazelnuts.

Conclusion: Endangered Species Dark Chocolate with Hazelnut Toffee 72% conforms to my restrictions and is seductively named, but to my taste it's really just another mediocre Endangered Species bar.