You see, a person who has a sweet tooth will not neccesarily have an inclination towards white chocolate,
neither is it assured that someone who's favourite ice cream flavour is (plain brown) chocolate is likely to also be fond of white chocolate.
Recently I talked to a friend who said he was simply indifferent to it -- which drove me crazy. I am a strong believer that the human tongue is inevitably biased 100%, i.e., there cannot be flavour you just shrug-to-and-move-on, you either love it or hate it,
you either wince or grin,
you either go "mmmm" or "ugh",
even a bland "okay" is an inclination.
As for me, if I could keep five different jacuzzis Parisian fountains in my backyard, each flowing with flavourful-somethings, these would be my unwavering choices:
And
When I was a five year old kiddo I frequented my dad's workplace as often as two to three times a week (perhaps because it was during a time when my dear mama had a more active work/social life, since it was prior to her being tied to being a full time-mama for three kids). My dad had a room where he kept fabric samples neatly lined up against each other on white hangers. Each piece of fabric had a number and name. I liked rubbing my finger tips against each piece of cloth and grasping the distinctive feel that one had from another, paying less to no atention to the names and numbers that labelled them. However, one name I shall never forget Piel de Durazno (peach skin), since its texture was deliciously soothing.
When I got tired of exploring, I would sit on the receptionist's desk and sample his pens, stencils and stamps until he'd offer me his hand, which meant he'd walk me to either the cookie factory or the dairy shop (both places were across the street) and let me get a little something for me to bring back to the office. My go-to choices were unhesitantly, either: a) a 250g cup of dulce de leche (milky caramel spread) which I'd eat spoonfuls of until my throat became unable to tolerate the burning sweetness; or, b) 3 to 4 pieces of white chocolate fresh out of the factory ovens.
Now that I look back I liked the white chocolate a lot more than the dulce the leche, but even back then I knew it was more expensive too. When we'd walk into the cookie factory's shop, from behind the glass counter I'd signal the lady in whites the number of white chocolate pieces I wanted and she'd carefully use a pair of tongs to place the sweets into a brown paper bag. I'd pop a whole square of chocolate in my mouth (never more than one at a time) and hold on to the rest with dear life as I crossed the street.
When I got tired of exploring, I would sit on the receptionist's desk and sample his pens, stencils and stamps until he'd offer me his hand, which meant he'd walk me to either the cookie factory or the dairy shop (both places were across the street) and let me get a little something for me to bring back to the office. My go-to choices were unhesitantly, either: a) a 250g cup of dulce de leche (milky caramel spread) which I'd eat spoonfuls of until my throat became unable to tolerate the burning sweetness; or, b) 3 to 4 pieces of white chocolate fresh out of the factory ovens.
Now that I look back I liked the white chocolate a lot more than the dulce the leche, but even back then I knew it was more expensive too. When we'd walk into the cookie factory's shop, from behind the glass counter I'd signal the lady in whites the number of white chocolate pieces I wanted and she'd carefully use a pair of tongs to place the sweets into a brown paper bag. I'd pop a whole square of chocolate in my mouth (never more than one at a time) and hold on to the rest with dear life as I crossed the street.
It was a mystery to me then, why the factory sold white chocolate when cookies were their specialty; and in later years I came to wonder why they never made it with their white chocolate, considering how great quality it was. My taste buds make memory of a smooth purity as if a glass of cold sweet whole-milk (no layers slimy lactoderm), and, a clean bite with no lingering buttery or sandy aftertaste.