I tried out this new 'drinking chocolate' monstrosity at (shudder) Starbucks, 'Chantico,' after my usual postmodern deathmatch linguistic throwdown:
"Yeah, let me have a large Chantico please."
"Venti?"
"Big. Biggest you have."
-silence- "...well, it comes in these six-ounce cups..."
"Okay, then why did you ask if I wanted that word that I won't deign to repeat if it's not available in the first place?"
"...sir?"
"Gimme. And shut up."
Yes, I'm like that until I've had my coffee or other stimulant. If I had a bowel disruptor, it'd be on steaming rectal volcano and some son of a bitch would pay.
So anyhow, Chantico. This is how chocolate was supposed to be drunk, originally. This is how you get chocolate if you wander into a small stube in Wien and ask for it. The only problem is that this is the United States, and the franchise ghetto to boot. So, of course, there's enough sugar in this concoction to stun a pre-teen child who is terminally addicted to Twinkies. I really think this could be tasty if they just yanked like 4/5 of the sugar out of it and maybe added some alcohol. Okay, I'd be willing to add the booze myself. But for God's sake, the sugar, man. Get fucking rid of it. Like, now. I could run Hershey PA for a day at least on one six-ounce cup of this stuff. It's like one of the M&M Guys had diarrhea into my goddamn cup.
Big chocolate flavor in a tiny little nipple. Although these chips are packaged for baking, I often eat them unadulterated and by the handful, like raisins, or Girl Scout cookies. The package says they're deep roasted. I'm from the South, where we deep fry Twinkies, but I prefer deep roasting for the chocolate chip. This process imparts on the tasty bits a rich, nutty aroma, which elevates them above the average Tollhouse variety, which I also eat straight.
Sugary and delicious, fluffy white marshmallow is encased in a milk chocolate shell. The initial impression is of vanilla and air, but this creamy confection has a complex aftertaste not unlike a cherry soda. The only eggy thing about this egg is its shape, a distinctive sunken oval that distinguishes the Marshmallow Egg from its Valentine cousin, the Marshmallow Heart.