Azul Master Chocolatier

You may have noticed that, against all odds in the midst of high-tech competition, board games and puzzles have proliferated. This boost originated well before the pandemic, but was certainly aided and abetted by it. 

My return to board games started about a decade ago, when my coworkers were avid players of Settlers of Catan. I think Big Bang Theory in particular had influenced them. Periodically we would arrange a board game night or even play over our lunch hour in the board room. A few years later, I joined a book club and there were a few board game enthusiasts in the group. We periodically got together to play a variety of different games. 

As I was introduced to new (to me) games, my personal collection started to grow. I purchased Settlers of Catan and Ticket to Ride. I arranged a game night with friends to play Apples to Apples (let's not talk about my now infamous pairing of "ancient" with "my friends," which I thought was hilarious but went over like a lead balloon...). I received board games as presents, including Pandemic (oh, the irony that real life would soon emulate a game!) and one based on the TV show Dexter (it had tiny garbage bags, so, really, it was a must-have). More recently, my friend Tanya introduced me to Azul: Stained Glass of Sintra. I loved it so much that I bought a copy and brought it home with me on vacation a few summers ago. I played game after game with my sister in her camper -- it's addictive.

Then in March of this year, an unexpected message came on Facebook. In a group chat, a screenshot showed the image of a limited edition version of Azul, called Master Chocolatier. "Janice!!!" said Tanya. "I need it!" I replied. I ordered it immediately.

Now, did I reeeeeeally need it? Probably not. But when being a professional chocolatier is part of your identity, it's hard not to be attracted to (and collect) chocolate "things."

When the game finally arrived in April, I was excited to arrange a time to play it. But life intervened and plans fell apart. And it's been nagging at me for months that I hadn't yet made good on that. The road to hell is, after all, paved with good intentions. And so last week, I decided it was fair game to play Azul: Master Chocolatier on my chocolate study night. I sent the girls a message and we made a plan.

Now, let's be honest: playing this game doesn't really qualify as chocolate study. I know that. You know that. Let's just agree to give me a pass this time.

And so earlier this week, I finally had the opportunity to play Azul: Master Chocolatier with Tanya. For an overview of the game play, I recommend this tutorial on YouTube. But basically, you draw pieces of "chocolate" from the factory, and, following the rules of play, you pack a box of chocolates. When a horizontal row is completed, game play stops and the winner is the person with the most points. (Azul always has a complicated scoring system, so just play with someone else who knows it already and can tutor and correct you, like Tanya did with me!)

All of the Azul games are visually appealing, and this one is no exception. The boxes are beautifully designed with vibrant colours. I absolutely love the dark chocolate and milk chocolate pieces that look so much like bonbons you'd see in a chocolaterie. It is a little disappointing that the solid white and ruby "chocolate" tiles have no patterns or  embellishments, but that's a minor detail, I suppose. It's a fun theme and with two different set ups, you have the option of more advanced game play.

Of course, the recommended snack for Azul: Master Chocolatier has to be chocolate! We had a few pieces of a Peace by Chocolate milk chocolate bar. 

You can't beat an evening that combines a fun game with a delicious snack and great conversation. 

And chocolate study can wait for another day. 

Chicken Bone Nougat?

On a recent trip to Peggy's Cove, I noticed Bubba Magoo's Fudge on the map of nearby shops. Naturally, I had to stop. So, after enjoying the view and taking the obligatory lighthouse photo, we headed for a purple building that really stood out. 

Bubba Magoo's offers small batch fudge, brittles, and jams, as well as freshly baked cookies. Based on their website, it appears these are "house-made." (I bought a peanut butter fudge.) They also have an incredible assortment of candy available -- but it's obviously "industrial" candy (like sour keys) that definitely isn't locally made. And then there's the in-between. A subtle distinction appears on some of their packaging -- "Maritime-made" with a maple leaf. This was the case for the most interesting item in the store: Chicken Bone Nougat.

I did a double take. Yes, I'd read the label correctly. 

Now, anyone who knows me, knows that I love chicken bones. And a few years ago, chicken bones were having a moment. Moonshine Creek Distillery decided to make chicken bones liqueur. I lamented on Facebook about my inability to purchase a bottle locally. That Christmas, I received four bags of chicken bones as presents, along with the highly sought-after liqueur. It was incredible in hot chocolate. The following spring, I made a pilgrimage to Glace Bay to try a chicken bones cheese cake. Everything was coming up chicken bones! And then the moment passed.

Until last week. I found the nougat! (Or did the nougat find me?)

It turns out this chicken bones nougat is made by Ganong, though nothing on the label indicates that. Bubba Magoo's has obviously repackaged it for sale in small bags at a premium. Don't get me wrong -- it was going home with me regardless. But I do believe in truth in advertising and origins of chocolate, so I feel like somewhere on the package it should have said where it came from. 

Nevertheless, it was a delicious bite. A soft, creamy pink centre with that characteristic cinnamon flavour enrobed in dark chocolate. From my Googling tonight, I've learned that these were (re)introduced in the Delecto boxes of chocolate in December 2013. (I say "re" because I've read comments that suggest they used to be in boxes "a long time ago" and that "they suck now," suggesting they were better before.) And the chicken bone on the cake is that Ganong suggests you use them in their cheese cake recipe. 

I have no idea how these could have existed for a decade without me knowing. 

When I first found these in Peggy's Cove, I was curious about how a chicken bones nougat could be made. Now that I've tried several, I'm actually thinking they are a "cream" molded in starch and then enrobed in chocolate, rather than an actual nougat that would be slabbed and cut into pieces for enrobing. A nougat would have had a chewier texture. 

Am I contemplating making my own version? Of course I am. I have a lot to think about in terms of how the texture and flavour could best be achieved. But tasting these has reaffirmed what I've always known: that chocolate and cinnamon deserve to be together more often.

And I'm making a note of that in my book of chocolate inspiration. 

A Flight of Chocolate

A few weeks ago while planning a vacation in Cheticamp and the Annapolis Valley, I began flipping through the Taste of Nova Scotia guide. It proved to be very valuable for identifying great places to eat and/or drink. One entry in particular stood out above the rest: Petite Patrie Craft Chocolate in Kentville. I added it to my itinerary without doing much research other than how close it was to other destinations, like the Maritime Express Cider Co.

When we arrived, we discovered that it was possible to order a flight of chocolate. It consisted of 5 pre-selected mini bars, each of different origin, as well as one molded bonbon of your choice. We ordered it along with two Americanos, and sat down to enjoy a chocolate journey. Chocolate ranging from 70% to 90%. Origins of Honduras, Colombia, Peru, and Vietnam. We started from the darkest and worked our way through 5 different flavours. 

Snapping each mini bar in half, we each savoured the perfectly tempered chocolate. We were surprised that the 90% Colombia-origin bar wasn't as extreme as we'd expected a "brute" chocolate to be. It was smooth and well rounded. We both loved the Vietnam-origin chocolate the best -- it had fruity notes. Our hazelnut bonbon decorated with a cocoa butter transfer was sublime. And it all paired perfectly with the coffee. 

Sadly, while we were mid-flight, we overheard why there was a 20% discount on everything. Petite Patrie Craft Chocolate is closing their storefront. In fact, as I type this, there is a post on their Facebook page selling off all of their furniture, including the very table and chairs we occupied less than a week ago. Their website doesn't list any of their products anymore and it states that shipping has been discontinued, no longer viable due to rising costs. 

And this explains why when we went to buy the Vietnam-origin bar to take home with us, we couldn't. They were selling off their stock in anticipation of the closure. I settled for a Mexico-origin bar, a Peru-origin bar, and one made with goat's milk. I'm looking forward to trying them in the coming weeks. 

My heart, however, is sad for these chocolate makers. First, the majority of people don't have an appreciation for fine chocolate or single-origin chocolate, so they don't understand why it costs more. Second, there is a great deal of labour involved in bean-to-bar production (sorting, roasting, grinding, conching, etc) compared to the work of a chocolatier (tempering chocolate and creating pralines, etc). And third, the chocolate business makes the majority of its profit during a very narrow window of time -- Christmas through Easter, with Valentine's Day being the biggest holiday. For the rest of the year, you have to be in production mode, but you're not selling anywhere close to as much as you would between December and April. 

The business model is a difficult one for the small batch, craft chocolate producer. Throw in a pandemic with lockdowns and ever-changing restrictions to navigate, and it's nearly impossible.

On the bright side, Petite Patrie Craft Chocolate intends to return to its roots, continuing to sell at farmers' markets in Kingston and Wolfville. (It's unclear if their bars will still be available at other retailers.) The owner will be able to focus on their true love (craft chocolate) instead of diversifying the business with waffles and sandwiches to cover expenses. And you will still be able to buy these exquisite bars. 

So, if you're in the area and have the opportunity, I highly recommend that you expand your taste horizons and support this small Nova Scotian business. 

Chocolate Trading Cards

This week I continued reading about Moirs chocolate factory with a MA thesis titled "Much More Than Chocolate": A Mosaic of Identity in Moirs Advertising, 1830 to 2007 written by Holly Ruth Hanes (2020). This thesis contains a number of photographs of Moirs chocolate boxes and advertising, as well as a list of product names. Indeed, it was the appendix of this thesis that led me to discovering the proper name of the Malted Graham Sandwich Bar that I made a few months ago in an attempt to recreate a nostalgic chocolate bar from a friend's memory. 

The content of the thesis made me think of a post by the Newfoundland & Labrador Pharmacy Museum last February (2022), where they found an old Moirs chocolate box in their collection. This one employs the bird imagery that was so prevalent according to Hanes (p.49). You can easily see the appeal of a box of Happiness. (And if you ask me, chocolate is good medicine, so it's entirely appropriate that this was found in a pharmacy museum...)

While the history of the Moirs company presented in Hanes' thesis is interesting, what really caught my attention was the practice of including trading or collectors' cards in boxes of chocolate and/or chocolate bars. This was a common practice across the industry and Moirs used imagery that reflected a regional identity, like nautical themed scenes in the 1910s and 1920s. Souvenir post cards were also inserted in boxes -- they were trendy at the time and "consumers bought into the giveaway mentality" (p. 34). 

This demonstrates, of course, that humans haven't changed much in the last 100+ years. We all love free stuff. Remember getting toys and DVDs in cereal boxes? I think I still have my copy of The Mask. Today, stickers are commonly added to art boxes and products, and have a similar collectible status. 

Collections are an interesting human practice. I've been thinking about that more and more in the last few years, and most recently on my trip home. Through my life, I've had many different collections -- and they mattered and had meaning at different points in time. A stamp and coin collection kicked off by a few Newfoundland samples of each owned by my grandfather. A collection of ceramic cats inspired both by my love of cats and the collecting practices of an aunt. A collection of lapel pins spurred by an international Girl Guide camp that I attended where trading occurred. Two collections of china dishes, one pattern I associate with my maternal grandmother and one pattern that was owned by my paternal grandmother. 

But what do you do with these collections years later when you've changed and they no longer have the same relevance in your life? (Note: I'm talking about coins and lapel pins, not china dishes. The china dishes bring significant joy to my life every time I use them for a dinner party with friends.)

That's a big question for a Sunday morning, so I'm not actually seeking answers and I'm certainly not offering any, though you should feel free to comment if you have thoughts. But I do love the concept of surprise post cards or trading cards in a box of chocolates that can be mailed to a loved one or collected and traded with friends. 

What have you collected throughout your life?