Was A "Social Lie" Called For?

As many of you know, over the Christmas holiday I had a part-time job at a chocolate shop. It had been a dream of mine since I was a little girl to one day work for this chocolate shop company. I not only got to live that dream, I got to live it in the very store that had inspired me as a child.

Recently, they called me back to work there again for the upcoming Valentine's Day rush. I said yes and, as I'm currently an employee there, I'd prefer not to mention the name of the company here just yet. You probably know and that's fine; let's just see if we can avoid mentioning it in the comments, m'kay? ;-)

I worked last night for a few hours and had a moment that left me questioning my response to a customer query. Now, customers ask me a LOT of questions during each and every shift (when I'm no longer working there, I plan to write about some of them) and because a high level of interaction is required, I turn into the perkiest, chattiest Cathy you ever did see. So not me in general, but it's kind of part of the role. I'm used to being questioned and responding in a friendly manner and tonight was no exception. The question this time was a first for me, though.

A nice man (who had been kind enough to let an older lady go first because he was indecisive about what to get), who I would say is around my age, was ordering his candy and I was getting it bagged for him. I think he asked a question or two about what kind of boxes were available and it was a pleasant interaction. Then he smiled and asked, "It must be really hard for your other half to get you something special for Valentine's Day when you work in a chocolate shop, huh?" I didn't really think about it too much, I just replied honestly, smiling, "Well, if I had another half then, yes, it might be difficult for him!"

At least two of the ladies in line visibly cringed and one said, "Ohhhh..." in an "Ooh, you stepped in it, mister," kind of way. I could tell that he didn't really know what to say for a moment, so I continued on in an attempt to mitigate his embarrassment, "But then, I love getting chocolate so it really wouldn't be all that hard!" I kept smiling and finished the transaction. He recovered and was smiling again when he left.

I was left to wonder if being honest (but pleasant) wasn't the right move in this case, however. Because while I didn't mean to put him on the spot, he was making a common assumption I encounter all the time: Coupled, until proven otherwise. I'm used to setting the record straight, so it came naturally and there was no ill will intended in my answer. Now I'm thinking, however, that it wasn't actually meant as a personal question -- it was really just like the ones I get all the time along the lines of "Oh, how can you stand to work here without eating chocolate all the time?!?" -- so perhaps I should have just played it off with a laughing, "Oh, it is!" or something similar.

Was the so-called "social lie" called for in this case? What do you think?

Dancing with Ennui

So the Olympics are over and hopefully we're all recovering from the resulting sleep deprivation. I was also hopeful that once the Closing Ceremony came to an end and the time I'd "given" myself to take a mini-break from posting was done, I'd have something worthwhile to say.

But I feel as if we've gone from one epic event, the XXIX Olympiad, to another, the Democratic Convention. This isn't going to keep us up nights (unless you're a Hilary delegate wresting with what to do), but if you're a Democrat, which I am, it's a fairly important time. Yet I so don't have a desire to talk much about that; I'm not into talking politics and either preaching to the choir or trying to change someone's mind.

For days, I've been casting about for something else to ponder here. I keep sending myself links to things or stories that I find during the day, but by the time I get home and look at them again, they don't seem terribly interesting. I guess I'm tired and nothing seems all that interesting.

The only thing that has grabbed my attention longer than five minutes is this:

Are you overcome with curiosity and an insatiable need to go out and buy one? Yeah, it looks to a degree like a chocolate representation of a human colon, but it's really a very clever piece of engineering. It's an "all edge" brownie pan. Yep, every piece is an edge for your dessert pleasure, 'cause no one wants the all-gooey, unbaked part in the middle that no one can get out in one piece, right? I was impressed because I do love a good brownie and immediately put it on my wish list on Amazon; that took up those five minutes very nicely.

But then I was right back where I started: Dancing with Ennui and trying to decide which of us is leading. The bitch of it is, I keep stepping on Ennui's toes, sort of purposely-by-accident, and it really doesn't seem to care all that much.

Wanna know?

Do you know what I'm doing right now? Right this moment in between bouts of tap, tap, tapping on the keyboard?

No, of course you don't because you're not here to see me.

And, I must selfishly admit, I'm glad you're not here because you might want to do what I'm doing right now this very minute and that would mean I'd have to share. I'm a generous person in most cases, but I don't want to share. Not with you, not with anyone. Seriously.

To paraphrase and misquote a very young Brooke Shields: Nothing comes between me and my Reese's.

Photo by Cybele

I've had a love affair with Reese's peanut butter cups since I was a child and, while over the years I've had many pricier, "better," high-end chocolates and people may sniff at Hershey's products in our age of sophisticated palettes, it's still the one I'll choose when it's offered to me.

And, oh, does it take me back. I remember the joy of unwrapping the foil wrappers from the miniatures and feeling like it was the most special of treats, debating with my favorite cousin whether the name was pronounced REE-sis or Ree-sees (it is, of course, the former), trying to peel off the tiny brown cups without breaking off the "teeth" along the edge, and figuring out my own personal way of eating them. (For the record, with miniatures I'm a fan of biting off the entire cup, leaving the thicker chocolate wafer, which I then let melt on my tongue. For regular-sized cups, it depends on my mood.) I remember having the money to buy a fancy gift box of miniatures when I was about 10 years old and treasuring them like the gold they were wrapped up in. I've had most every variation they've come up with, when I can find them, and have even ordered them direct from the factory. Major yum.

I guess you could say I'm a very devoted Reese's fan, and I was recently invited to join a place that recognizes people like me: Devoted to Reese's. It's pretty new and the content is still being developed, but there's a possibility that it will be more interesting in the future. If you're a fan, too, I invite you to check it out and sign up. If nothing else maybe we'll find out about giveaways and specials before the masses.

Right now they're having a big tie-in with the upcoming Batman movie, The Dark Knight, and have a sweepstakes (though you can't enter online) and some unique branded products which they made in both milk and dark. I have yet to find the individual bat-shaped pieces, so that's my current quest. I did find the medallions and look forward to trying them soon. There's a whole bag of each so I might consider sharing. Maybe.

The oxymoron drink of the gods

I enjoy trying new recipes, especially when they involve chocolate, and tonight I made something fun and different.

Perhaps you've heard of Serendipity 3, the somewhat infamous and recently troubled restaurant in NYC. It was known to me for its frozen hot chocolate (or, as they call it, Frrrozen Hot Chocolate) that I'd heard about many times over the years (even before Ms. Oprah brought it to the masses), but which I'd never had. Of course, I'd puzzled over how they could call it hot chocolate and make it frozen, but I consigned it to that part of my mind where jumbo shrimp resides and went on with my life.

Recently, my mom bought a cookbook that has a recipe for frozen hot chocolate I wanted to try. While checking the Web to see what ingredients I'd need before coming home to make it, however, I saw that Serendipity had made their recipe public amid much fanfare and it sounded better than the one we had. Apparently it's not the actual recipe the restaurant uses (which makes sense to me; these sort of things are often adapted for public consumption because much of America wouldn't know Callebaut or Valrhona if it reached up and bit them on the butt) but it's accessible and easy enough to make. It was a really delicious dessert treat, served up in a cozy-looking mug with a mound of whipped cream and a dusting of chocolate sprinkles, even with it as cold here as it was tonight.

Next time...and there will be a next time...I'll use better chocolate (I used what we had on hand and it was pretty pedestrian stuff) and make sure more people are around to share its generous portions.

So grab a blender and make someone happy with a cup of frozen chocolate goodness.