Originally, the plan for today was either to tell you about what I put everyone through when sharing my chocolate
(bring a notebook!) or a bright and cheerful chocolate photo I can’t wait to share ’cause it makes me HAPPY. But we  interrupt our regularly scheduled broadcast: There was a brazen chocolate thief at my house Saturday.  Or should I say a brazen chocolate chomper?

We Interrupt Our Regularly Scheduled Broadcast - Mantuano Granola Chocolate(Mantuano Granola – Artisanal Chocolate made in Venezuela)

It is not very hard to leave chocolate unattended on Saturdays.  (Any other day of the week chocolate is safely secured in MY chocolate drawer, which doesn’t even need a KEEP OUT sign because everybody is already well trained to leave it alone.)  (Right now I’m hoarding things like Alter Eco Dark Twist (chocolate with crystallized orange peel) in there.)  On Saturdays, chocolate is strewn on multiple fridge shelves, on the table, and all across the house as I ferry it back and forth to my studio*, either snapping photos or dictating which shots to be snapped if Sam happens to be available. (Sam is my brother, my sometimes-photographer, and, when chocolate disappears, he is generally considered the primary suspect. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve gotten chocolate out, turned my back for two seconds, and find he’s somehow managed to carry it off already.  On the plus side, he usually brings it back intact.)

Chocolate was everywhere and the photo-shoot was well underway, resulting in photos like the one above. I unwrapped this bar, temporarily set it aside for additional photos, and…all of the sudden there was a bite out of it.  A big bite out of it. A somebody-was-not-messing-around, definitely-wanted-me-to-notice-there-was-a-bite-out-of-it, bite out of it.  (For the record, I probably would have noticed if someone had even touched it.)

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A frozen Snickers bar is pretty much a jawbreaker, but my dad likes his Snickers frozen.  At least, he did many years ago, because one of the chocolate memories that stands out in my mind, back when my sister and I were pre-teens, involves Dad and frozen Snickers bars.

Dad went to the store by himself one weekend and – to our delight – came home with a whole box of Snickers bars.  I’ve forgotten exactly how many bars the box contained.  It looked like a lot to us, so it must have been 24 or 48 standard size bars.  Mom happened to be out of the kitchen when the purchases were being unpacked, so the Snickers bars were smuggled into the freezer and painstakingly hidden behind Mom-approved items (thinking back, that likely would have been salmon steaks, vegetables, and veggie burgers).

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