Visiting Chocolatier: Crystal Jaynes

It's been a big adjustment living in the city...especially coming from Provo, Utah. So far, I just go on adventures around the city and find yummy places to eat and fun places to shop. Being so far from home and anything that is familiar can be a bit depressing. Even when you are in the greatest city in the world. However, one of the advantages of living in NYC is the nearly endless options of comfort food, and any other kind of food you can think of. After a particularly long week my sister, an avid Food Network watcher, had mentioned a segment of “The Best Thing I Ever Ate” that had featured a chocolate pizza. Feeling in the mood for anything with chocolate, I decided to go and check it out. My husband Matt was sweet enough to take me to Max Brenner’s Chocolate for an impromptu date. What’s not to love about the idea of a chocolate pizza? I had imagined that it would be similar to the many brownie pizza’s that I’ve eaten in the past. You know that kind with brownie for the crust, candy on top and maybe a few marshmallows to hold it all together. When I ordered ‘half a pizza’ I didn’t expect it to literally be half of a pizza...but it was! In spite of Matt's insistance that he was ‘too full’ to try the chocolate pizza, he somehow managed to eat half of my order. Although I teased Matt about not eating any, I didn’t mind sharing this huge dessert.

Max Brenner’s chocolate pizza was so much better than I had anticipated! The crust was just a regular unsweetened pizza crust. Topped with beautiful melted chocolate, perfectly toasted marshmallows, three kinds of chocolate chunks, and drizzled with creamy peanut butter, this pizza officially became my favorite thing to eat. My mouth is watering just writing about it. It was perfect. If the crust had been sweet, it would have been ruined. If there had been more peanut butter, it would have taken away from the intensity of the chocolate. I tip my hat to the genius who came up with this delicious treat. For a moment, the world was right. Everything was as it should be. Chocolate had once again calmed the soul, and rejuvenated the heart. I walked away from the restaurant with a spring in my step, ready to face the world. And even if I was a few pounds heavier, it was worth every dollar.

Chocolate meal

There is a chocolate cake sitting on the front desk

chocolate chips, chocolate shavings

chocolate chocolate chocolate

mmmmmmmmmmmmm

First pass...I shouldn't

Second pass...I really shouldn't

Third pass...I want it

Fourth pass...Just once piece...

mmmmmmmmmmm

Five pieces later...I deserved that

An hour later...I really deserved that

Wanna go get lunch?

No thanks, I'm full

...spice and everything nice

It was cold outside and cold inside

and I needed love.

Not the kind that deserts you.

Not the kind that promises and then runs.

Not the kind that has its own fearful self-interests at heart.

But the kind that is pure

that is warm

that is full of promises and trust and comforting, comforting, comforting.

And so, 9:52: 8 minutes before close, we jumped in our car and drove to "The Chocolate."

Need I say more?

Well, yes, I must say more because you have most likely never been there.

A picture with words:

antique banana-cream house

with a porch and big stained glass windows

and inside,

counters and shelves full of chocolate cakes and chocolate cupcakes and chocolate cookies,

and overstuffed chairs

and lamps and paintings and wood floors.

If you know me, you would walk in and think: if Carolyn were a house, she would be this one.

There's a very soothing feeling about sitting in a house that is you,

just in wood, brick, banister form.

And so I ordered the spice hot chocolate, because the lady behind the counter said it was the best, unequivocably, without hestitation. Like so:

me: ".... .... I think I want the hot chocolate...what's the best flavor? Mint, spice, hazeln--"

her: "SPICE."

me: "yeahokay." (polite nod, inside giggle at her intensity.)

But then one sip and I understood.

In a cup as big as my heart,

kissed with whipped cream and cinnamon,

that spice hot chocolate whispered lovely things to me,

silent things,

like: "look how beautiful you are on the inside."

and: "your turn is coming. don't give up."

and: "peace."

Funny that a cup of hot chocolate could do that, no?

But that night, I slept the sweetest I have since October,

and the morning brought dreams of adventures and promises of love, promises of joy

in a future yet to be lived, yet to be imagined,

the sun just coming up

on a beautiful new day.

Tiffany ~ How it all started

I was lying in bed with my eyes closed.  It was easy to picture the familiar surroundings of my bedroom.  The blue speckled walls, the 15 year-old pet-net hanging above my head, the mishmash of furniture crowded into the room.  I rolled over and felt the bumpy wall to my right.  This was home and I missed it.

A familiar smell of cooked vegetables pulled me out of my daydream, but the sight that greeted my eyes was new.  A massive bookshelf full of words I wished I knew loomed in front of me.  The curved ceiling, more than 15 feet above my head, made me feel small and lonely.  Even though I hadn’t touched one in more than 7 years, I longed to reach up and grab Brownie, one of my favorite stuffed animals.  Sunshine streamed through the open window, reflected off the bright yellow walls and burned my fresh eyes.  As I wiped the moisture from my face I heard a rumbling in my tummy and realized that I hadn’t eaten in 17 hours.  I got up and went to the kitchen.

“Ahhh, si sveglia!  Sono G___.  Avete mangiato?  Sembrate affamato, si sedate e gli farò il pranzo.”  Evidently, my blank stare wasn’t an adequate response.  “Hai capito?”  That, I did understand.  “No, no capito” was all I could manage to say.  I looked around the kitchen at all the food she has been making.  I was so hungry but I didn’t know what to do or say.  I knew what I wanted.   Chocolate.   I ran back to my room, but quickly realized that I didn’t have any.  Wrappers from the three bars that flew across the Atlantic with me stared up at me from the trash can.  As my tummy rumbled once again, I realized I would have to face one of my two fears.  For some reason, venturing out of the apartment won out over trying to communicate with G___, the family cook who spoke no english.  Besides, who knew what was in that food?  Chocolate was safe, even if I had to leave the 3^rd floor apartment of my Italian host family.  I quickly looked up the words I go in my self-guided Italian textbook and returned to the kitchen.  “ummm, Io vado…ciao.”  G___ looked at me, clearly disappointed, but I was too tired, hungry and homesick to try to talk to her.  I picked up my little Vodafone, my set of keys, and the 100 euro that B had fronted me.   That should be sufficient for a bar of chocolate.

I walked down the stone stairway and made my way towards the massive oak doors that separated me from Torino.  Taking a deep breath, I pushed the door open, stepped out and turned right, beginning my quest for the chocolate that would stifle my homesickness and my hunger.  I walked straight for two blocks and then noticed a little Di per Di down the street to my left.  My stomach pulled me all the way through the door and straight to the chocolate.  ‘Check, What else do I want?’  I grabbed some “American cookies” (chocolate chip) and a tube of Pringles (which cost so much I’m embarrassed to say I bought it) and made my way to the register.  Then I saw the toiletry shelf.  I stood there looking intently at the bottles for about 30 minutes, but my fear of buying foot cream and using it as conditioner made me postpone this errand for another day.

Lying in bed, surrounded by nothing more than what I fit in my two suitcases and a bunch of Ikea furniture, I opened a bar of pure milk chocolate and sank into happiness.  Over the next few months I ate more chocolate than I care to admit.  I was eating too much milk chocolate, so I cheated on him and began my affair with dark chocolate (hoping to cut back on my intake), but that didn’t work…I just fell in love with dark chocolate too.  So here I am, a lover of chocolate, hoping to share my love and life with you.  Hopefully I’ll be more faithful to this blog than I was to milk chocolate.