ChocoLate con Aceite de Oliva Virgen Extra Bio (Organic 70% Cacao with Extra Virgin Olive Oil)

70g (2.4oz) bar

Ingredients: Organic cocoa, o. cocoa butter, o. cane sugar, o. extra virgin olive oil (5%), soy lecithin

11g sugar/40g serving (27.5% by wt.)

I wasn't sure what to expect from this Spanish bar other than a novel experience. The pairing of chocolate and olive oil is like coffee and cheese or prosciutto and salsa, two gastronomic powerhouses that arise from different parts of the globe and don't sound quite right as a team. Then again, I guess chocolate and olive oil can both be creamy and rich, with an enveloping perfume and a distinctive flavor, so maybe they're not so far apart after all. Would that come across here?

The bar has a common, matte brown appearance, though the molding design is fairly interesting. Where this chocolate really gets me is the aroma: Mostly chocolate with...something else, something subtle and hard to recognize. It doesn't smell at all like the bottle of olive oil on my kitchen counter, and I bet that's because they're different types; the one in the chocolate strikes me as mouth-filling and buttery. This flavor carries through on first taste: The olive oil hits the tongue first, then as the chocolate begins to melt, that flavor melds with what turns out to be a very creamy, sweet chocolate, a good match for a rich-tasting olive oil. I find the aftertaste to be more of the same, mostly chocolate with some subtle variation, but another taster here felt it showcased the olive oil again.

Inevitable intrusion of personal taste: I don't like buttery olive oils. I figured olive oil flavors varied but were all good until I found myself recoiling from certain bottles, as the aroma and flavor struck me as overwhelmingly greasy, kind of like rancid oil. I thought maybe I just needed a better quality bottle until I found that some I liked some cheap varieties just fine. What I was reacting to was the particularly buttery type, which is why I have a big bottle of inexpensive grassy, fruity extra virgin olive oil in my kitchen and a bit of an aversion to this chocolate. That's not to say anything about its quality, because it really is luscious and creamy, and interesting in a quiet way I haven't seen before, and plenty of people like buttery olive oils. In light of this, I would love to try some of this company's other bars.

Conclusion: ChocoLate con Aceite de Oliva Virgen Extra Bio is smooth and rich and worth a try—unless you don't like buttery olive oils (or, obviously, olive oil in general). 

Venchi Assenzio Pure Extra Bitter Chocolate with Absinth

45g (1.58oz) bar

Ingredients: Cocoa powder (22-24% cocoa butter), cocoa butter, cocoa mass, sugar, dill, Artemisia absinthium extract, soy lecithin, vanilla.

Venchi's absinthe-flavored 75% cacao bar is unlike anything else I've tried. It looks like any old small bar with fancy wrapping, but the licorice-like scent is powerful, unmistakeable even when the bar was wrapped. I bought this chocolate because it was novel and exotic, but to be honest I'm not a huge fan of licorice and its cousins (cousins in odor only—anise and fennel are barely related to licorice), so it took a few weeks of daring myself to review The Absinthe Bar before I finally bit the bullet.

So what's absinthe? I won't go into detail here because I think most of us have already heard that there's this the green, anise-flavored, slightly illegal liquor that maybe makes you crazy but actually probably doesn't. Regardless, it's worth noting that the cult-favorite spirit with the sexy history experienced a bit of a resurgence in the last decade or so, which makes Venchi's formidably herbaceous chocolate somewhat trendy in a bold and interesting way. Venchi approximates absinthe by using the liquor's characteristic Artemesia absinthium, aka wormwood, as well as dill in the place of fennel, though it leaves out the usual anise. [3/30/11: See the end of the post for an update on The Dill Situation.]

The look: angular, matte, and grayish. The smell: Like absinthe. Fennel, anise, licorice, you know what I'm talking about. As I've mentioned there is no fennel or anise here as in absinthe, so what provides the aura of licorice? I can't find a description of the flavor of Artemesia absinthium itself other than “bitter,” but I've discovered that licorice-haters can buy modern absinthe without the traditional flavor, so it probably isn't coming from the wormwood. Dill, on the other hand, is fairly closely related to fennel, and while they don't taste identical, I'd wager that flavor and odor are what dill brings to the table in this chocolate (perhaps in some high concentration or using a non-leaf part of the plant). Let's give it a taste.

This pairing actually works surprisingly well. The texture of the bar is very smooth (if just a touch chalky) and the chocolate is dark and slightly bitter but mostly sweet and not too intense, which jibes with the oddly sweet undertone particular to licorice and similar plants. While the anise-y quality melds nicely with the chocolate, it also predominates and lingers...and lingers. This bar is for licorice lovers and absinthe fetishists only.

Conclusion: Venchi Assenzio Pure Extra Bitter Chocolate with Absinth is a great bar for a niche market.

[Note: I couldn't find this bar on Venchi's website, though I did see it for sale on a couple other random sites. I bought it in a brick-and-mortar specialty chocolate shop.]


Update 3/30/11: In light of the comment left below, I looked into the ingredient in question as it was listed in Italian, anetolo. The only translation I could find was "anethole," which turns out to be the aromatic compound largely responsible for the flavor of licorice, anise, and fennel. (Fennel as a vegetable is finnochio.) So there you go!

Vivani Dark Chocolate with 85% Cocoa

3.5oz (100g) bar

Ingredients: Organic cocoa liquor, o. cocoa butter, o. raw cane sugar

6g sugar/42 g serving

Vivani's 85% cacao bar is another organic, pure chocolate + sugar mix, but the German company also produces interesting flavors like green tea and lemon (and far more in Europe). I've had the green tea one before, and while I didn't love it, I respected that it really did taste of bitter matcha powder.

The 85% bar smells great. I mean, if you're not trying to be extra observant it just smells like chocolate, but up close it's actually pungent and earthy—very intriguing. The flavor and texture aren't a combination I'm used to: The consistency is super-rich, the kind that feels like it's melting right into smooth cocoa butter, which I usually associate with mild chocolate, but bitter definitely predominates here. It's not at  all sour, and the other flavors aren't especially intense aside from the astringency. It's all a bit too much for my liking, but still interesting. I wonder if it might be good for baking?

Conclusion: Vivani Dark Chocolate with 85% Cocoa is smooth and bitter.

[Note: I forgot to take the photo until after I'd opened the bar. Obviously.]

Terra Nostra Organic Intense Dark 73% Cacao

3.5oz (100g) bar

Ingredients: Organic cocoa mass, o. sugar, o. cocoa butter

9g sugar/33g serving (27.3% by wt.)

Vancouver-based Terra Nostra advertises its chocolate as not only organic but also equitable trade (though that's not mentioned on this bar's wrapper) and made with renewable energy. Assuming it's all legit, that's lovely. How's the chocolate?

Well, the reason this review is short is that the 73% cacao bar is in-between in many ways. It's medium brown, standard size, a bit sour, a bit bitter, appropriately sweet. That doesn't mean I think that the quality is mid-range; “in-between” describes this bar because it's quite well balanced. No vanilla, no inclusions, no soy lecithin, just chocolate with good complexity and no extreme or “off” flavors. Thus I don't have a lot to say about it except that I like it. If I found it on sale, I'd buy a bunch for daily snacking.

Conclusion: Terra Nostra Organic Intense Dark 73% Cacao is a good, solid bar.

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.