On my way back home, I had a pit-stop in Heathrow airport. Besides the complimentary alcohol shots offered by the kind folks at DFS (this month’s special is good ole Jack Daniels and they are also introducing vodka from New Zealand), I succumbed to the sweet temptations of Rocher chocolates. Over the years, I have had the opportunity to taste all sorts of chocolates, some good, some bad. Some even better and richer in taste than the Rocher chocolates. But oh! Despite having had imbibed some devilishly decadent chocolate concoction in Chicago only the day prior, the thought of being able to slowly savor each layer of the Rocher chocolates consumed me and I bought 3 whole boxes of chocolates even though I know I should be on a diet.
The heart of the matter is that when I was very much younger, at a time when things still made sense, when my sister was still my sister and my mother still had long locks, Rocher chocolates were as rare as gold (further evidenced by its golden wrappers). I remember when my dad would come back from his overseas trips (which were rare but when they did, he always came back with gifts), he always had a box of rocher (and toblerone although I never really cared for them as much). Or when we knew someone going to Europe, a box of rocher chocolates was always requested. And like the Queen doling out favors, my mom would give us one piece of Rocher at a time and only when we were very very good. And only 1 per day.
Decades have passed (I can’t believe that ‘s’ has been added to decade), my sister has evolved into a being I can no longer relate to, and the dynamics at home have changed drastically as well. But one thing remains certain. Rocher is still the choice of chocolates at home.