Misnomer & Wine.
For Christmas, my
wife was given a box of truffles called Chocolate Delicious that were anything
but.
They were bad
enough to sue the chocolatier for trade descriptions, and the person they came from for the trauma involved. What hurt most was my wife told me I could help
myself, yet I resisted opening them all day while she was at work, as I didn’t
think it was fair for me to be the one to do it. For eight hours they sat in my
peripheral vision, taunting me with their apparent chocolate deliciousness, and
all along it was a con. I was suckered in by an adjective; Barnum was
right.
It wasn’t until
the evening that I pierced the polythene and got my sticky fingers into the box. I went for the safest sounding flavour first: the chocolate
cream. This turned out to be a grave misjudgement; replace the word ‘chocolate’
with ‘cardboard’ and you’d have a more accurate representation of the taste. It
was like snacking on dust. Further exploration revealed it was the nicest of the lot. Working your way through a box of Chocolate Delicious is a depressingly bleak
experience.
People must have
worked on the recipes, fine-tuning them before signing them off. Did they
scrape off their taste buds with a scourer first? I wouldn’t wish them on my nemesis.