Abigail 1702

I am absolutely fascinated by anything that has to do with the Salem witch trials, so when an original play titled Abigail 1702 came to Cincinnati's Playhouse in the Park, I couldn't wait to see it.

Written by Roberto Aguirre-Sacasa, Broadway playwright and writer for Glee, Abigail 1702 explores the life of witch accuser Abigail Williams ten years after the infamous witch trials.

I wish I could say that all sorts of storylines rushed through my mind, but in fact, none did. I was curious to see what Aguirre-Sacasa would come up with. I actually don't know what happened to anyone involved in the aftermath of the witch trials, so whether this was fact or fiction didn't matter to me. I was just ready to get back to the witchcraft.

The play started with the awesome set that I snapped in the picture above. In fact, I was so distracted by the set that I almost couldn't pay attention to what was happening. It was deliciously witchy. I wondered whether I could re-decorate my family room to look like this?

Then I realized that I was easily distracted by the set because I didn't really like the course the play was taking. There was a sailor and talk of pirates. I remembered that when we visited Salem, Massachusetts, there were a lot of pirate displays alongside the witch attractions because Salem had a pirate history, too. I started to think the play was going down this angle and I was disppointed. There was almost no mention of witchcraft in the first 20 minutes or so.

Then a mysterious stranger from Abigail's past appeared and I was hooked. I'm not going to give anything away. Let's just say that I was satisfied with the rest of the story. And I'm even more excited about trying to recreate this set in my house.

Storytelling

These two look like they could tell some stories!

Over the weekend, we went to the Appalachian Festival in Cincinnati, Ohio. I've been before and have always enjoyed it, in part because of my Appalachian heritage, but also because I studied Appalachian literature in college.

One of the festival events was Storytelling. Different storytellers came each hour and sat on the stage and told stories. It seems like a simple concept, right? In some ways, it is, which is why storytelling is such a predominant form of entertainment in rural Appalachian areas. But as a writer, I listened to the storyteller with a different ear, trying to discern what worked and what didn't as our storyteller took the stage.

As it turned out, our storyteller was not that good. We were bored after his second story, and some audience members left before he finished. I still took this as a learning opportunity and thought about what went wrong with his tales. His speaking style was nice, and he used plenty of inflection in his tales. It was the stories themselves that lost our attention.

The first story was okay. He told a tale of make-believe creatures that were rumored to be hidden underground in Ohio and Kentucky. That was a good selling point: he made it relevant to his audience. He also used a lot of sound effects, which gave us some imagery to imagine. And he used plenty of repetition, which is a crucial element to folk tales and tales for children. So the story was okay, but didn't actually make much sense. We were disappointed by the end because we couldn't decide what the moral of the story, or the meaning of these make-believe creatures were.

The second story was a "Jack" story and followed the structure of folk tales such as The Little Red Hen. Plenty of repetition. It wasn't that interesting, but it worked.

It was the third story that lost the audience. Unfortunately, the story didn't make any sense at all. The storyteller included lots of detail, which you might think would make it more interesting, but actually made it more distracting. Don't include specific details like a James Taylor concert, and describe the smell of the bathroom if those details don't lend anything to the story. We kept waiting for them to be relevant and they never were. They had no place in the story at all.

Instead, the story took on elements of a dream; and like the re-telling of many dreams, it didn't make sense. This tale was clearly lacking in structure. Any writer of short stories knows that every word in the story needs to be crucial to the story. This particular storyteller didn't keep that in mind. We went off on tangents that had nothing to do with anything, and he lost his audience.

The last story he told (and I think he made it his last because he'd lost most of his audience) was a typical legendary myth-- the kind of ghost story that children like to tell around campfires. These usually involve the number three. Three rounds of things happen before the climax. The structure of this kind of tale is almost a formula, and the storyteller stuck to the formula. His big mistake on this tale was setting it up as being scary. It wasn't, even though he promised that as a storyteller, he knew how to scare us if he wanted to scare us. He set up a premise and then fell flat. I find it akin to saying, "This is going to be the greatest story you've ever heard."  No matter what you say after that, it won't be.

So, I wasn't all that entertained as I listened to the Appalachian storyteller (who also told us right off the bat that he wasn't Appalachian), but I did find his stories useful. It was a lesson in what not to do, and sometimes that's just as important as getting things right.

Mirror, Mirror

I don't think I've ever felt a generational gap between me (Gen X) and my daughter (Millennial) as strongly as I did when we went to see Mirror, Mirror. This twist on the classic Snow White tale brought it all into focus for me. It was, in fact, my Mirror, Mirror moment and reflected old vs. new. My wrinkles were showing.

The movie resembled very little of the Snow White story I know and love. Instead, we are presented with the Queen's (Julia Roberts) side of the story, which didn't make much sense. She throws herself at the Prince. She never really asks the mirror who's the fairest, and it is the mirror that provides the magical power. Whatever. I can allow poetic license and go with the flow... with exceptions.

The dwarves are no longer the dwarves from the fairy tale. No Doc, Sneezy, Grumpy, Dopey, et. al. Now we've got Half Pint, Butcher, Wolf, Napoleon, Grimm, Grub and Chuckles and they're not hard-working miners living in the woods. They're bandits. And Snow White becomes a bandit with them, wielding a sword and fighting the Queen's men.

I hated it.

Now, I must back up. I am a feminist and certainly want girls to grow up feeling empowered. And I know that the old fairy tales are horrible for depicting girls as damsels in distress who need a prince to come in and save them. It's not the message I ever wanted for myself, or for my daughter. I feel like I should be happy that Snow White has to swoop in and save the Prince in this re-telling.

But I don't. I'm old. I want the classics to remain classics. I want the beauty and sweetness of the old Snow White and Cinderella tales. I like the romance of them, and the depiction that good triumphs over evil. That was enough for me. I didn't need Snow White or Cinderella picking up swords. I didn't grow up thinking it was okay for them to be passive and wait to be rescued. I think I took away a different message: that a person's true beauty cannot be hidden from the world. They will be rewarded in the end. Pretty passive, I know. It's probably not the best message.

So then I thought about it. What if I'd grown up with this new feminist message? What if I grew up with Snow White and Cinderella tales that show heroines fighting their battles and rescuing princes? What if this were the norm for me? These storylines don't faze my daughter at all. They seem perfectly normal to her. So let's say I grew up with these ideals and then suddenly, in my forties, saw the old classic animated versions of Snow White and Cinderella? I think I'd hate them. I think I'd sit there and wonder why they were so weak and simple-minded. I would not be content to watch them sing to birds and clean the house of seven little men. The storylines wouldn't make any sense to me.

That's not my reality, though. I still love the classics and get bored watching Snow White perform ninja battles against an army. I'm too old or old-fashioned to find this story captivating. I concede that I'm a product of my generation. I want the glass slipper; I want the horse and carriage.

Comedy Success

Gigi takes the stage.

Comedian Rory Rennick delivered a hit yesterday at the Funnybone Comedy Club in Dayton, Ohio. His family-friendly comedy magic act delighted everyone from preschoolers to adults. In my opinion, not an easy feat. But he made it appear effortless.

He started his act by showing the audience a ketchup bottle in a brown paper bag. He pulled it out of the top of the bag just enough that we could see it, then let it fall back in. He waved his hand magically over the top and said he could make it disappear. Then he looked down into the bag and said he did it. As I watched my 7-year-old niece's face, I saw her eyes and mouth grow wide. She believed him. But Rory, knowing that not all audience members would be as trusting as Gigi, went on with the act.

"The hard part is bringing it back," he confided. He just needed eveyone to say the magic words, "Poopity-Doopity." He waved his hand over the bag again and then triumphantly pulled the bottle out of the bag just enough that we could see it. My niece was enthralled. She'd just witnessed magic. The rest of us were laughing at the joke. Then Rory rounded it up with a little bit of laughter and crumpled up the bag to the disbelief of us all. He'd made the ketchup bottle disappear.

That was the warm-up. The rest of the show was fantastic. But perhaps the greatest testimonial to his show's success occured in the backseat of our car on the way home.

We'd bought Gigi a souvenir magic wand after the show. We didn't realize that it had Rory Rennick's web address and phone number on it, but Gigi didn't miss a thing. She sat in the backseat making plans to call Rory and using the magic wand as both her make-believe phone and wand.

"Hello, Rory? I'm going to make you disappear. Poopity-doopity!"

And a new comedy-magician was born.

The Music Man

Last night, my daughter and I went to see a production of The Music Man at Lakota West High School. I was blown away! This production rivaled any professional theater event that I have gone to in downtown Cincinnati, and I've seen many. The sets, the costumes, the music, the dancing, hair, make-up and talent were incredible.

I cannot begin to imagine how many rehearsal hours went into this show. The dancers never missed a step or went out of sync. The costumes were perfect, right down to the shoes and hair styles of every character on stage. Did I mention that the cast totalled 75? Or that they were all on stage for "The Wells Fargo Wagon?" It was fantastic.

I had been excited to take my daughter to this play in particular because my father starred as Harold Hill in his high school production of the same. I watched the young man on stage last night and could easily picture my father in the role. I would have loved to have seen it. I'm sure my dad was even better. So, I asked my daughter to imagine her grandpa in the role. And I mentioned that her grandmother had starred in her high school play as well. I didn't follow in their footsteps. Instead, I was the flutist in my high school's rendition of Fiddler on the Roof.

My daughter watched the dazzling actors on stage, choosing her favorites (the prettiest girls, of course). I wondered whether she'd show any interest in getting involved in theater when she gets a little older. She seemed to enjoy it. But in the end, she surprised me. She doesn't plan to follow in her grandparents footsteps, either. Instead, she said she wants to play in the orchestra like me.

Big Miracle



Whale tails near Juneau, Alaska

 Yesterday I went to see the film Big Miracle, based on the true tale of three grey whales stranded in Barrow, Alaska in 1988 when the sea unexpectedly froze and trapped them before they could migrate south. I liked the movie, but couldn't get past the fact that I don't remember hearing anything about it.

As you watch the movie, you're made to feel as if this was the biggest news story all year; that it dominated world headlines, held the potential end to the Cold War with Russia, and that Reagan's approval rating and George Bush's chances as a successor depended on the saving of these whales. The movie made you believe that the world sat on the edge of its seat, waiting for the outcome.

But I don't remember anything about it. Not in 1988, and not even in 1991, when I moved to Alaska and saw whales and Greenpeace's Rainbow Warrior ship for myself. Which leads me to wonder whether the story was actually that big in 1988, or whether I was completely self-absorbed with my own life. Likely, it's the latter.




Rainbow Warrior's 1991 Alaska Tour



College Hill Coffee Company

Yesterday I was posed this question: What was your most peaceful moment today?

It was meeting my friend for breakfast at Cincinnati's College Hill Coffee Company. I love that place! They offer wonderful coffee and food in a cozy atmosphere. They also have artsy gifts for sale and you are surrounded by beautiful decor as you sit and sip your coffee.

Even the bathrooms are beautiful. I choose College Hill Coffee Company as having the best bathrooms in Cincinnati. My picture here doesn't quite capture it, but it's so pretty in the Ladies' room that you almost want to take your coffee in there to relax. The walls are bejeweled; there are crystals hanging from the ceiling, and the comfy little loveseat just begs you to grab a book and relax. Though hopefully no one does that, because other people may need to use the facilities.

College Hill Coffee Company is my winning choice for coffee and ambience in Cincinnati. And it was definitely where I enjoyed the most peaceful moment of my day.

Breaking Dawn

My daughter won tickets to the preview of Breaking Dawn last night. She and her father went. (Drat me being in Germany!!) No spoilers here. I'll just share their reactions:

"This was the best one yet."

"This is my new favorite."

They both really liked it. The only thing that surprised me is that my daughter suddenly switched from Team Edward to Team Jacob. Hhmmm... I'm trying to remember the book. I never switched allegiance. I wonder why she did?

The Greatest Movie Ever Sold

If you like documentaries, Morgan Spurlocks' experiment in creating a movie about marketing that was funded entirely by company brands, is definitely worth a view.

In Pom Wonderful's Greatest Movie Ever Sold, Spurlock calls on various national and international brands, looking for sponsorships to fund his $1.5 million movie. As you can tell by the film's title, Pom Wonderful (pomegranate juice) anted up to be the title sponsor.  Spurlock videotaped the sales pitch he gave them, some of their follow-up meetings, and his ideas for advertising Pom products during the film.

We also watch Spurlock make cold calls and sales call to several other businesses, sometimes landing the sale; sometimes not. If you've ever worked in the corporate world, you will feel right at home. If you haven't, you may shake your head in wonder at the goings-on in those company boardrooms as marketing teams promise tens of thousands of dollars with little promise of return on investment. Or so it first seems. But then Spurlock lets the audience in as he starts to receive complex contracts from these sponsoring companies, demanding specific product exclusivity, advertising slants, and quantitative bang for their buck. Spurlock gets frustrated and wonders if he'll actually have any freedom in producing his film at all.

That's where I sympathized with him completely. I have been in his shoes and know how hard it can be to try to please so many people in so many ways without losing sight of what your intent was in the first place. I know, because I used to be a fundraiser for national non-profits and sometimes felt like I was selling my do-gooder soul to the highest bidder. I had to get title sponsors, corporate sponsors, media sponsors, food sponsors, etc., and almost all of those sponsors expected exclusivity and some sort of public relations return on investment as well. Certainly understandable on their parts; they were the ones funding the project. But it was difficult at times, and Spurlock quickly learned how complicated things could get.

The movie is worth watching for all of that insight into the inner workings of branding and sponsorships. But it also included one tidbit outside of this realm that I found to be the most fascinating piece of the movie. Spurlock travels to Sao Paolo, Brazil where they have outlawed outdoor advertising completely. There are no billboards or signs promoting products. There are no advertisements painted onto the sides of the buildings, buses, or taxis. You could still see where those ads were and the city looked somehow stripped of color, but it was incredible to see. Spurlock interviewed a few retailers, too, asking them what they were doing to boost sales now that they couldn't advertise publicly. Most said they were relying on word-of-mouth and referrals.

Interesting. I cannot even imagine that happening here, and you won't be able to, either, if you watch Pom Wonderful's Greatest Movie Ever Sold and realize just how pervasive advertising is in our society. The De Bonis and Peterson marketing group, as well as the Business Journal, say the average American is exposed to 600 advertisements a day. Even more frightening, the Union of Concerned Scientists Website estimates that number to be more like 3,000 advertisements a day. Whatever number, it's too much. We're bombarded with commercial messages in one form or another. I don't think we even notice most of it. Or do we? By the end of the movie, I desperately wanted a glass of pomegranate juice.

Welcome to the Rileys



This is the shot in "Welcome to the Rileys" that shows where
Kristen Stewart dances.

On a trip to New Orleans in October, 2008, I turned a corner and found myself in the midst of a movie shoot. One of the staff on the sidewalk told me it was a film featuring James Gandolfini, who was standing right down the street (but can’t be seen in this shot). I stood for a while and watched, then ambled down another road where, believe it or not, I saw Angelina Jolie walking along with three of her kids.

But back to the movie.

The film being shot was Welcome to the Rileys, which I rented on DVD last night. It’s the story of a middle-aged couple who have become estranged since their teen-aged daughter died in a car accident years ago. The wife has developed agoraphobia and doesn’t leave the house or mention her daughter. The father is having an affair with a waitress who suddenly dies. He travels to New Orleans for a convention and meets a teen-aged runaway prostitute who reminds him of his daughter. He calls his wife and tells her that he’s decided to stay in New Orleans.

Not surprisingly, this news forces the wife to confront her fears and leave the house to follow him. What was surprising was how much I liked her character. She seemed cold and hollow until we watched her try to leave. Instead of witnessing stark terror, tremors and an emotional breakdown (which would have been trite), we see her get in the car and not know how to adjust the seats. It’s actually a funny scene, followed by bad driving that has her crashing before she even leaves her driveway. Still, she forges on and her character becomes more and more endearing. She’s fragile but kind, and braver than expected. I found myself wishing the storyline were more about her.

When the credits rolled, I waited to see who the actress was (because I hadn’t read the case). It was Melissa Leo! I’d had no idea. Her character was so different than the one she played in The Fighter and she looked so different than she did at the Oscars. I was impressed.  She was an actress I didn’t think I’d like, but have now reconsidered.

James Gandolfini was – James Gandolfini. He never seems any different from character to character. And the teenaged prostitute, Kristen Stewart, was an edgier Bella, but equally as unlikeable. I liked the movie, but mostly because of Leo’s performance and the fact that I felt a personal tie after stumbling upon the street corner where the movie was filmed. I’ll save the Angelina story for another day.

The Varsity

The Varsity
World's Largest Drive-In
(but I definitely liked coming inside for the atmosphere)

What'll ya have? What'll ya have? A stop at Atlanta, Georgia's iconic greasy joint. What'll ya have? What'll ya have? A red plastic tray piled with chili dogs, cheeseburgers, onion rings, and a Coke. What'll ya have? What'll ya have? A symphony as boisterous as the din at a baseball game. What'll ya have? What'll ya have? A crowd of tourists, college students, and alumni in red booths that sit four, six, eight, or twenty. What'll ya have? What'll ya have? A Naked Dog, Walk the Dog, Squirt One, Joe-Ree with a Bag of Rags. What'll ya have? What'll ya have?  FUN!

Cincinnati Exposed

I think most of Cincinnati watched "Undercover Boss" on Sunday to see Mayor Mark Mallory go undercover among city workers. I don't have a strong opinion about the mayor one way or the other, but watched the show to see how they portrayed Cincinnati.

Initially, I was unimpressed. I thought the city looked pretty, and the producers of the show could have easily found ways to depict Cincinnati in a less-than-favorable light. As it is, we did that to ourselves, instead. Immediately after the show, people began complaining to the news media that city workers such as the sanitation worker on the show should not be picking up dog remains from someone's yard. City dollars shouldn't go toward that.

Why are people so petty? I think that the sanitation worker's willingness to remove a carcass from someone's yard should be applauded. As should the meter maid's kindness. She was poised to write a parking ticket but saw the car owner racing toward the car and so she let her go without ticketing it. Don't we all wish that someone would be as merciful if we were in the same situation?

The mechanic who works on the city fleet service personally knew most of the policemen whose motor vehicles he was servicing. He knew their driving patterns and how best to tune their vehicles. He feared rumors that the city was getting ready to outsource this job. What a shame to lose such a personal touch. Hopefully Mark Mallory reconsidered.

Cincinnati is a small city that boasts of being "Hometown Proud." As I watched the show, I wondered how the rest of the country would view Cincinnati. I hoped they wouldn't look at us as simple and unprofessional. I hope they saw a glimpse of Cincinnati and Cincinnatians for what we really are: nice. That's why I choose to live here.

Exit Through The Gift Shop

Graffiti - no - street art in Hamilton, Ohio

I am so oblivious to my surroundings sometimes. Then someone will turn my head for me, speak to me and explain what is going on, and I will be amazed that I missed something that was right in front of my eyes.

Such is the case with street art.

Unfortunately, I do not have an artistic “eye.” Until someone tells me what I’m looking at, I’m not sure. So as I’ve wandered around for the past decade and spotted graffiti and murals painted on the sides of buildings, all I saw was vandalism by people who wanted to make their mark on the world and thought that spray-painting their names on concrete overpasses and tunnels accomplished that.

I could tell that some spray paintings were more elaborate than others. But so often they involved skulls and crossbones or fantasy creatures that it was still lost on me. What were they trying to say? Or were they, like schoolchildren, just doodling on concrete canvases instead of notebook covers? I didn’t really consider these works “art.”

Then I watched “Exit Through the Gift Shop.”  How eye-opening! Again, I needed someone to turn my head, show me the work, and explain it to me. Now that they have, I am astounded at all I’ve missed! Would you believe that I went to a Shepard Fairey exhibit and had no idea that it was a display of street art? I thought it was interesting that his paintings seemed to be on newsprint, and I read the small plaques next to his Andre the Giant “OBEY” prints. I didn’t really get it. And was sure I was missing some important political message with all of his Marxist theory prints (that weren’t mentioned in the film).

I am so obtuse.

I’d also never heard of Space Invader, Banksy, or Mister Brainwash. But now I’m intrigued. I would be thrilled to stumble upon Banksy’s work as I traipse around a city. When I go to Paris, I will look for the Rubik’s cube Space Invader pieces. I am looking forward to discovering that art more than touring the Louvre or the Picasso Museum. It sounds like a fun treasure hunt.

Banksy, Fairey, and Mister Brainwash turned the heads of people like me in “Exit Through the Gift Shop.” They directed our gaze to the artwork that is right in front of us. They promoted the street art movement and now I’m viewing it with new appreciation.

But my naiveté does not end there.

I watched the film without knowing that it is widely believed to be a hoax. Many critics do not believe that Thierry Guetta even exists. Some have put this documentary on par with “The Blair Witch Project.” It made me pause and reconsider the film. If it is a hoax, I think I like it even more, because it is yet another work of experimental art.

What else is going on around me that I’m missing?

My Un-informed Diagnosis of 'The Black Swan'

This is a ballerina. This is not the 'Black Swan.'

I'm probably one of the last people to see "Black Swan," and wish I hadn't waited so long. I loved it! Natalie Portman deserves every award she gets. I was riveted by her performance and her character, which many people have simply described as "crazy", "nuts", or "psycho." But I can't leave it at that. Those terms are too vague. Instead I feel compelled to play amateur psychologist and diagnosis her mental condition.

My diagnosis: Nina had Borderline Personality Disorder.

What leads me to determine that?
1. She wants to be "perfect." She says so on more than one occasion.
2. I think her imagined physical mutations are body dysmorphia. Plus, she has an eating disorder. (Think back to the cake scene and vomiting in the bathroom scenes.)
3. She suppresses her emotions until they rage out of control. She's either a good little girl, or wild child.
4. She engages in self-mutilation (she she pulls off her skin).
5. She is self-destructive.


***SPOILER ALERT!!*** Don't read on if you haven't seen the movie!


But, I can't explain why her own face flashes before her at various times. And I can't explain away the hallucination/delusion that she has killed someone. Those symptoms don't fit into my contrived diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder. (I should have taken more Psychology classes!) Maybe she really was just "crazy."

Searching For Clams



Clam Box restaurant in Ipswich, MA



For me, clams are high school summers on the Jersey Shore. They're the juicy, succulent sensation of newfound freedom; driving with newly minted licenses and spending the day at the beach. My friends and I always stopped for a basket of clams at Moby's in Atlantic Highlands after a day at the beach. The clams were huge, mouth-watering salty treats that tasted like seashore and sunshine. Moby's was casual outdoor dining on a deck at the foot of the Highlands drawbridge. We went there covered in sand and suntan oil to sip sodas and share some clams while we watched all the cute boys work. They all spent their summers handling seafood at Moby's. It was the cool place to work.

Zoom ahead 20 years and I found myself driving through New England with my family. We stopped at a restaurant in the middle of Massachusetts and I ordered clams off the menu. They were juicy and briny and immediately transported me back to my youth on the Jersey Shore. Right then and there I made it my mission to sample as many clams on our trip to Maine as I could. I was sure I'd never taste any as good as Moby's.

The clams at Stewman's Lobster Pound in Bar Harbor came close. I think the outdoor deck atmosphere and view of the water helped. Whole, big clams fried in light batter are meant to be eaten outside by the sea. Those were the best clams I tasted in Maine. Of course, I had lobster a few times (while in Maine do as the Mainers do), but clams are my seafood of choice.

Then I read that the Clam Box in Ipswich, MA was reported to have the best clams in New England. On our way down to Boston we stopped by to see whether that report was true. I liked the ambience, though we weren't on the water. The portions were very generous and the clams were good, but it wasn't Moby's. That taste and experience still eluded me. After eating as many clams as I could up and down the Notheastern seaboard, I decided there's really only one way to recapture the taste and nostalgia of my youth. I'll have to go back to New Jersey.

Vosges Chocolate Review

“Life is like a box of chocolates; you never know what you’re going to get.” – Forrest Gump

Especially true if that chocolate is a Vosges chocolate truffle. Vosges Haut-chocolatier Katrina Markoff, who trained at Le Cordon Bleu in Paris, describes music and travel as the muse for her creations. Her flavor combinations are very distinct, very unusual, and very expensive.

I sampled her exotic truffle collection (9 small chocolate truffles for $27) which was inspired by her trip around the world. Every truffle was different and included unusual ingredients. Some I liked, some I didn’t.

Katrina recommends tasting each truffle in two bites: in the first bite you get to know the truffle and in the second, you delve deeper, searching out the flavors and nuances. I let my tongue pick out the subtle ingredients and enjoyed tasting each one. 

The collection included:

Oaxaca – Guajillo and pasilla chillies, dark chocolate, and organic pumpkin seeds

Gianduia –crunchy hazelnut praline, milk chocolate and praline bits

Absinthe – Chinese star anise, fennel, dark chocolate and cocoa powder

Viola – Milk chocolate and candied violet flower

Wink of the Rabbit – soft caramel, milk chocolate, and organic New Mexican pecan

Budapest – sweet Hungarian paprika and dark chocolate

Ambrosia – Macadamia nuts, Cointreau and white chocolate

Naga – sweet Indian curry powder, coconut and milk chocolate

Woolloomooloo – Australian macadamia nut, coconut, and milk chocolate

Black Pearl – ginger, wasabi, dark chocolate, and black sesame seeds

Chef Pascal- kirsch, dark chocolate, and dried Michigan cherry

The exotic flavors were a novelty; something to taste and talk about, so perfect for a social gathering. But if I really want to eat chocolate, these are not the chocolates I would reach for. The truffle collection was fun to taste, but there was only one truffle that I tasted and thought, “I want more!”

A few (Absinthe and Budapest) reminded me of licorice, so I was disappointed with those. The Chef Pascal was nice, though I’m an old-fashioned American girl who loves her chocolate cherries to be juicy. And while I don’t typically like white chocolate, the Ambrosia was fantastic.

But my favorite of all, the one I’d love to have an entire box of, was the Woolloomooloo. Delectable!

What wasn’t included in the truffle collection was a combination I am dying to try: Bacon & Chocolate candy bars. It sounds incredible. But I’ll let my tongue decide.