A few days ago a man named Bob from Virginia sent me a note: "How about checking out my site?" So I did. He makes and sells chocolates. Men who sell chocolates, I think, have to be pretty decent (reference: A Walk in the Clouds). Plus, on Bob's site, there is a picture of Bob letting a woman paint a chocolate moustache on his face. Yes, Bob must be a decent, good-humored fellow.
But some work had to be done before I could link. You see, dear readers, I cannot possibly recommend a chocolate to you without having tasted it-- or at least without a report from a trustworthy person who has tasted it. So, I have sacrificed my palate once again for you. (What hard work this is. But I am dedicated. I never want you to have to suffer through a bad gastronomic experience.)
Without telling Bob, I ordered up a box of dark chocolate truffles from his site, Trafton's Chocolates. They just got here five minutes ago. (I did not wait for the chocolates to get to room temperature before eating them. I did wait long enough to wipe-- okay, lick-- the chocolate from my fingers so as not to dirty the keyboard before writing this.)
The first truffle I tried had a dark chocolate center. It wasn't wimpy, either.
The next one I tried had an orange cream center. I really have never liked chocolates with orange cream centers -- let me be honest, I think Godiva's is awful-- and I really didn't know why until now. The Trafton's version was not too sweet! Ah!
The truffles are a good size, and are intense enough that your chocolate craving can easily be satisfied with one or two.
Of course Virginia is for lovers. With chocolates like these, how could you taste and not feel the power of l'amour?
So, Trafton's earns a place on my "Get Your Hands Off My Chocolate" list.
The rest of these truffles shall be stashed. Do not tell my husband.
