Have you downloaded Dr. Albers’ Chocolate Craving Meter yet? I just did, and I can tell you it’s a pretty thing. Graphically, it’s quite well done. (Do you feel a “but” coming on?) BUT, these indicators don’t work for me at all.
Let’s start with the “Very Low” indicator. It reads: “I don’t really want it [chocolate]. It wouldn’t taste good right now.” I have NEVER felt this way in my entire life! Same with the “Low” indicator: “I could take chocolate or leave it and be okay either way.” Nope. I can’t even think of a chocolate bad enough that would cause me to think this.
We move on to a “Moderate” craving: “A little chocolate sounds good! It would hit the spot.” Then, a “High” craving: “I really want chocolate! I can’t stop thinking about it.” And, lastly, “Very High”: “I must have it! Chocolate is calling my name!”
Now, please do what you want with your own craving meters, but I’m going to do a little editing to mine. First, I’ll completely cut off the “Very Low” and “Low” categories because they’re just wasting space. Now, I’ll need a little re-writing for the other three.
Moderate: “Eating this chocolate will keep me sane for at least, oh, a couple hours.”
High: “I hear you talking to me, but instead of seeing your face, I’m seeing a molten lava cake. Wait, what? Is that you, Auntie Em?”
Very High: “Step away from my chocolate, or you’re toast.”
So, there I was, sitting around dreaming of my chocolate stash, deciding which I would open first. It wasn’t enough to have delicious dark chocolate; I wanted it chock full of something. I was thinking I’d choose a bar with nuts. And then…just as we were getting ready to leave for a family fun afternoon at a nature center, my daughter had a melt-down, which resulted in her being sent to her room, and my husband and her brother going on the trip without us.
Dear reader, I was a blur as I ran to the coat closet to retrieve my chocolate (shhh, nobody knows it’s in there). I grabbed blindly for something, anything, clutching a shiny wrapper in my little paws, tearing open a corner with my teeth like a possessed weasel. Wait, I’m supposed to eat one ounce! I quickly glance at the nutritional content. Screw it! I don’t have time for MATH!
I broke off a chunk and popped it into my mouth, chewed and swallowed, barely registering the taste, until moments later, after I’d re-stashed the bag, when I realized, wow, that was really good, I mean, awesomely good. What was that exactly? I go back to the closet: Ghirardelli Intense Dark Toffee Interlude. I wish I’d, you know, savored that, instead of injecting it directly into my bloodstream.
Will this happen again? Most likely. Is there a moral here? I don’t know. I’ll leave that to the psychologists, but if you’re a type who likes labels, I guess you can slap a big one on my forehead that says, “Emotional Eater.” Let me re-introduce myself. Hi, my name is Marcy, and I’m an Emotional Eater.
The hubs and I don’t get out much. With two young kids and nary a grandparent in sight, our fine dining experiences are few and far between. Because of this, when we do go out, I’ll eat whatever I damn well please. That said, I’ll also eat more slowly, more mindfully, more conscious of the significant other across the table and of the delicious food. Dinners at home are a hurried affair, trying to get enough nutrients into the kids before they lose interest with the whole sitting still/not telling potty jokes at the table kind of thing.
Yet, in the interest of taking our time and making the most of our dinner out, my husband and I also tend to eat more than we would at home. We were at a nice Asian restaurant this weekend. We had sushi for an appetizer. We had wine. We worked on our main courses, swapping plates, then swapping back. And, need I say, we had dessert.
The waiter showed us the evening’s three offerings: some kind of berry-infused cheesecake, a second thing I can’t even remember, and *insert angel trumpeters here* The Hunan Tower, which was a layer of dark chocolate cake covered with a chocolate ganache, on top of a deep layer of fluffy chocolate mousse, on top of a thin layer of plain old cheesecake (two out of three ain’t bad).
We decided to “share” it. I quickly cut off the offending cheesecake layer and pushed it toward hubs. I then got to work on the two chocolate layers. Here’s a little fact you might not know. Come closer, I’ll whisper it…..If you have been with your significant other for more than ten years, it is perfectly okay to stab his hand with your fork if he tries to steal your cake!
I wasn’t even all that hungry for dessert, but I gave in to my cravings and polished off The Hunan Tower. However, since I don’t eat out much, I didn’t feel guilty. I felt full, yes, but not guilty. Tell me, what’s your experience with dessert when dining out?
Hello chocolate lovers! So glad to kick off this sweetest of months with you. I just returned from a meeting with Dr. Albers where I was presented with a very large bag of chocolatey goodness. We’re talking serious chocolate, ranging from chocolate bars to chocolate covered berries to chocolate tea! I have laid out all my loot on the dining room table. My eyes zero in immediately on two items: a bar of Ghirardelli Hazelnut Heaven, and a bag of Dove Roasted Almonds. I feel my pulse rate rising and detect a bit of salivation going on. I want it. I want it bad, baby.
But wait, I already had my chocolate today. Dr. Albers put me through an experiment, with five different types of chocolate, to see if I could order them from least, to highest, percentage of cacao. I’ll have you know, I aced this test. And so I do believe Dr. Albers has met her match…and I do believe I’ve met mine. What kind of monster gives a chocolate lover an entire bag of the stuff and asks her to eat only an ounce a day? Ahhh, we shall see. All in a month’s time, we shall test Dr. Albers’ experiments. And we shall see how a woman who steals the “good stuff” out of her childrens’ Halloween pumpkins while the precious angels sleep, will survive temptation of momentous proportions.
Each day in February, I shall eat 1 oz. (or more;) of chocolate and tell you all about it. I suggest you gather your own chocolate so you can participate, rather than just watch voyeuristically…unless that’s your thing. And now, chocolate be gone! Back in the bag with you! Close the bag, hide the bag, where my kids can’t find it and where it will not be constantly in my sight. I’m weak, dear reader, so weak…