A bittersweet story about my first chocolate and wine tasting party
Everything was perfect.
I had carefully planned my first chocolate and wine tasting party a month in advance. Not a single detail had been overlooked. My party had it all – the right chocolate, the right wine, the right people.
The evening was supposed to go something like this…
We would begin our tasting by learning some interesting facts about chocolate. We would learn about the three different types of cacao beans – forastero (the “low end” bean), criollo (the rare, “high end’ bean), and trinitario (the hybrid bean, a blend of forastero and criollo beans). Then, I’d steer the conversation toward discussing how chocolate is made…how dark chocolate differs from milk chocolate.
“Why spell “cacao” with two “a’s”?,” someone might ask.
“Oh, well, according to old English lore, years ago an English factory worker made a mistake in the spelling of the word – he spelled it “cocoa.”
Maybe we’d have a laugh about that story. I am an English teacher and linguist after all.
“See,” I would have said, “Americans didn’t ruin the English language. The Brits gave us a head start many years ago.”
Perhaps my nerdy English joke would have received some chuckles. Perhaps not. English jokes are always a bit precarious in everyday conversation.
I’m sure that my friends would have been impressed with how I had set the table. We were to meet at a local wine bar. In order to pick up on the “Tuscan” décor, I decided to design menus (yes, menus!) that had a gold background. I thought that the gold would add a sense of decadence to the party.
I had carefully arranged the five types of chocolates we were to taste on a beautiful white plate. The white rectangular shaped plate added an understated elegance to the table.
“Waiter,” I started to ask, “Please bring four glasses of water, a bread plate (to cleanse the palate), and four champagne glasses for the Prosecco.”
After the waiter brought what I had requested, I began to prepare the table for the tasting. Everyone received a pen, a tasting card (for notes), a menu, and a “chocolate fact” sheet. I had already prepared the chocolate – meaning, that I cut each chocolate bar into 2 ounce pieces. I had also brought the chocolates in individual Ziploc bags (so that I would not forget what was what).
Then, the waiting began. It felt something like this. Please forgive the sentence fragments.
8.05 Ok, five minutes late isn’t that big of a deal. I was annoyed, but not worried.
8.10 10 minutes. No friends. Started to worry…
8.15 Ok, 15 minutes late is borderline rude. Husband went to the front of the bar to check. Still, no friends. No phone calls.
8.20 Reality started to sink in. We had been stood up. I tried not to have a complete meltdown. It took a great deal of restraint for me not to start sobbing uncontrollably.
8.30 No friends, no phone calls. They were obviously not coming. I started to feel like a fool. I felt like a jilted bride at the altar. I tried my best not to throw up because I was so upset.
8.35 I then had the unfortunate task of putting away the menus, tasting cards, handouts, pens, and the chocolate that was on the plates. Thank goodness I brought those Ziploc bags. Every negative emotion possible washed over me – I was embarrassed, sad, crushed, heartbroken.
8.40 The waiter was so impressed with how I had arranged everything for the tasting that he thought I was a chocolate distributor (or some kind of professional)! He asked if I could create a dessert line for the wine bar. AND he wanted to know if I could host a wine and chocolate party for the wine bar. I felt a little better.
And so there it is. My first tasting party could have been fabulous. It wasn’t this time, but I will have the opportunity to host a major event for our entire community in the near future. Sometimes things just work out like that.
C’est la vie.
