The Cologne Chocolate Factory: a moral tale

Malachi loved the Cologne Cathedral so much that he requested we go there again on another day. There were some other things we could do in Cologne too (a zoo, a chocolate factory), so it seemed like a good idea. One of my favorite things about riding the train there (it's about 40-50 minutes from Düsseldorf by train) was seeing the cathedral towers suddenly appear out of the city from various angles. I knew to be watching for it this time, and it was so fun and surprising every time, as you were walking along what seemed like rather ordinary streets, to suddenly realize you were approaching one of the most famous architectural landmarks in the world! It just serves as a reminder that there are hidden wonders all around us…

But that is not that moral part of this tale.

It was kind of a chilly morning, so Ky and I decided to go to the chocolate factory since that was indoors. There was a museum talking about the history of chocolate, with various applicable artifacts. It wasn't terribly different from this exhibit, but still interesting.

We were quite tired and suffering from Museum Knee by the time we were done with the exhibit, but then there was a hall where you could watch the chocolates actually being made, with samples, and that revived us wonderfully. There was a cool machine making molded chocolates and then placing them on a conveyor belt to be wrapped, which you can watch in this video if you like that sort of thing:

Then we were feeling a bit peckish, so we stopped at the chocolate cafe for something to eat.

(This guy is always peckish)

At the cafe, there was a menu in English, thank goodness (…although "Schokolade" is fairly easy to decipher), and Malachi got the Hot Chocolate and I got the Cold Chocolate, which sounded like it would be sort of a float or milkshake of chocolate. Having built up enormous appetites with all our walking that morning, we waited with great anticipation until the waitress brought our orders at last.

Malachi took a sip of his. Then I took a sip of mine. And…it was HORRIBLE. Absolutely, horrifyingly HORRIBLE. Probably the worst taste that has ever crossed my lips. I was first shocked, then saddened as I thought to myself how cultural expectations had probably caused this terrible misunderstanding. The Germans in Düsseldorf must just have different tastes, I reasoned. Perhaps they made this chocolate from straight ground-up cacao beans (it did sort of remind me of a bitter cacao bean I had tasted once). Perhaps they would be equally shaken if they tasted a milkshake I made. Perhaps it was an acquired taste, or I had just been caught off guard by the unexpected. I took a cautious second sip.

HORRIBLE! I looked at Malachi with dismay. Were we both to suffer this dreadful fate? But he seemed to be enjoying his hot chocolate. I tasted it. Delicious. I was so confused!

Malachi and I spent a few minutes marveling at what had occurred. How was this possible? Even the darkest of dark chocolate had never offended me in this way. I hoped the waitress wouldn't be disgusted with me for a leaving a nearly-untouched drink! I decided I was probably just not as adventurous of an eater as I had liked to think myself. It was slightly embarrassing. Malachi had a sip of the cold chocolate and didn't like it either, but he was just a boy! We sat in silence for a time, while I fed Ziggy and flipped idly through the menu.

Something was nagging at me about the (HORRIBLE) taste of the drink. There was something familiar about it. It tasted almost…like…the smell of coffee. (I have never tasted coffee; it's a religious thing.) So when I saw that the menu also offered a "Cold Coffee" drink I suddenly became very suspicious. The next time our waitress appeared, I asked her, "Is this drink made of chocolate, or coffee?" She smiled pitying at me. "It's chocolate. Schokolade." I felt embarrassed, but pressed on: "Are you sure? It's just so…bitter." At that she looked puzzled. "Bitter? No…it should be quite sweet…" She peered at the drink more closely and then turned abruptly. "One moment. I'll go ask."

In a moment she was back, looking shamefaced. "I'm so sorry. They made this one with coffee. Let me make you a new one." Sorry? I felt like dancing for joy! Cold German Chocolate wasn't horrible! What reassurance! What relief! Yes, I had inadvertently drunk a substance I never intended to drink in this lifetime…and I felt strangely disgruntled about that for a minute…but the Platonic ideal of chocolate could now remain pure and untainted! I was so happy.

When the Cold Chocolate drink finally arrived, I took a cautious sip, and it was wonderful! Ice creamy…rich…delicious. Everything I had hoped. And so all ended well. But I was left with a vast awe for my fellow humans who, voluntarily, DO drink coffee. What on earth do you see in it? And, remember, the version I tasted was full of cream and ice cream and probably other ingredients…so it ought to have been more palatable than the pure version. I've heard coffee is an acquired taste, and okay, I get that, but for what possible reason would one want to acquire it? All my life, I have watched people drinking coffee in movies and in cafés with idle curiosity, wondering what it would taste like, but not really wishing to try it. But now! I just can't believe it is a substance that anyone ever thought of as a food for human beings, let alone enjoys consuming. *shudder*

But even THAT is not yet the moral part of this tale.

This is a picture of the chocolate we brought home with us from the Düsseldorf trip. We got some after our adventure at the chocolate factory, and some at Heinemwummmummmn, and some at pretty much every other chocolate shop we passed on our travels. (We ate some of it as we went, of course.) It looks like quite a bit, doesn't it? A few of these bars were to give away, but most of them were just for eating ourselves (and maybe sharing with the children…occasionally…if they were lucky). And we did fill up the spaces in our suitcases with this chocolate quite tightly. After our Great Regret of not bringing back enough chocolate from our Berlin trip, we were determined not to make that mistake again. 

(I might briefly mention here how much we love the "Goldschatz" RitterSport chocolate. It is so good! I happened upon a review of it somewhere which was acting like RitterSport in general was for only the least refined of palates, Philistinic palates if you will, but I will proclaim my love for it nevertheless. Even after tasting so many [all delicious] types of chocolate in Germany, it remained one of my top choices. And this "Goldschatz" [Gold edition?] was a milk chocolate with 50% cocoa in it. It was intense but not dark, if that makes sense. Mmm. Sam and I are both already mourning the inevitable day when what we brought home is all gone.)

So when we packed up to leave Germany, we felt rather pleased with ourselves, and with how much chocolate we had amassed in a relatively short space of time. But when we got home and I laid it all out on the bed and contemplated how many children would want tastes of it, I realized with dismay that it was nothing like as much chocolate as we'd thought. It was a pitiful amount. Paltry. And I could see with painful clarity how soon it would all be gone. How I wished I could go back and warn my former self of the inadequacy of her efforts! Alas, I could not, and thus we see how vain and foolish are the efforts of man. But you, reader, I can still warn (**moral alert!**), and I do so now in the strongest possible terms:

When visiting Europe, bring home more chocolate than you think you will possibly need. Much, much more. And then add just a bit more just to be sure. OR YOU WILL BE SORRY! As I am, even now.