no.44 - Noir Infini

I think I may have just broken the law...

Recently I saw a bar of chocolate that claimed to be 99% Cacao and I bought it. How could I not? I heard rumors that such a chocolate existed, but to be honest, I did not believe. I could only but wonder, what holds such a confection together. Isn't it just ground cacao beans? Is it held together by magic? or glue?

The list of ingredients, written only in French, were of no help at all to this unilingual boy. Peeling back the label that had been stuck on (no doubt by American agents) lists the bar's dietary specifics but says nothing of the actual ingredients. Peeling off this label was useless, as the ingredients are repeated in several languages, but none of them are English. Does the FDA know about this? It can't be legal to sell or eat in the United States, can it?

Despite these legal concerns, I bought it anyway because, like scuba diving and driving to Mexico on a whim in the middle of the night, some things must be dared.

What does it taste like?

The simple answer is that it tastes almost exactly like a cacao bean. Is this really any surprise? It was the same flavor, but there was something more... It is as if the bean had been tamed, but it's primal heart preserved.

The bar itself is scarcely larger than a Hershey bar, though it's aspect ratio is different and comparing it to the Hershey bar, even in size seems like the sort of thing that might cause the fabric of space time to tear apart. But since I've opened that wormhole: the little bar cost me $4.50, for which I could have had five or six Hershey bars, but I am surely on the better end of the deal as a Hershey bar is just a rectangle of lard, sour milk and a pinch of gritty cocoa power.

The Noir Infini is fragile and hard. Mine (left) shattered before I took the small piece that has fueled me as I type with rapidly quivering fingers. To get the same effect from other chocolates you might need to inject them directly into the vein. This is the heroin of chocolate. This makes Lindt feel like a gateway drug.

I still don't understand what's holding it together. Even in French I can read that it says 99% Cacao minimum. Minimum? Could there be more? My god, I don't even know what is holding me together at this point.

They must grind and mash the beans and then press the bar into it's shape under the weight of a thousand elephants. At least, that is how I would do it. (Perhaps this is why I'm not chocolatier.)

The chocolate is smooth, which I find beyond puzzling. I don't know what "vanilla Bourbon en gousse" is (Mr. Lemon, any word on this would be appreciated) but it must have amazing qualities to allow a bean to turn into something so silky and smooth.

It is also bitter. Dear God it is bitter. It is a black hole of bitterness. You would think it would suit me just fine, given that I'm bitter, but it doesn't. I think I may prefer my chocolate in the 70% range. Curse you Michel Cluizel for revealing my chocolate wimpitude.

My wife declared that her mouth rebeled against the flavor at first, because one expects chocolate to be at least a little sweet, but then the complexity was revealed. She is, of course, tougher than I.

I am frightened by this thing, which now sits on a plate, waiting to send my heart in to tachycardia. It is too much chocolate for me. I would feel much better with a small package from the gentle Swiss chocolatier, Blondel. (Mr. Lemon?)