Quotes About Chocolate

Chocolate is not a matter of life and death--it's more important than that.

Chocolate is cheaper than therapy, and you don't need an appointment.

By the age of thirty-five, women have only a few taste buds left: one for alcohol, one for cheese, and one for chocolate.

I can't believe you lied about chocolate, Mallory said. Lying about chocolate is... sanctimonious. Do you remember all those bad girl lessons you gave me? Amy rubbed the spot between her eyes where a headache was starting. You mean the lessons that landed you the sexy hunk you're currently sleeping with? Well, yes. But my point is that maybe you need good girl lessons. And good girl lesson number one is never tease when it comes to chocolate. -Amy and Mallory

Stress wouldn't be so hard to take if it were chocolate covered.

By age thirty-five, women have only a few taste buds left: one for alcohol, one for cheese, and one for chocolate.

The calories in chocolate don't count because chocolate comes from the cocoa bean, and everyone knows that beans are good for you.

All you need is love. But a little chocolate now and then doesn't hurt.

Chocolate fends off all kinds of nasty stuff. And if you get hungry while warding off evil, you have a snack. It's multipurpose equipment.

Yeah, chocolate. Chocolate fends off all kinds of nasty stuff. And if you get hungry while warding off evil, you have a snack. It's multipurpose equipment. One

Chocolate fends off all kinds of nasty stuff. And if you get hungry while warding off evil, you have a snack. It's multipurpose equipment.

Next to coffee, chocolate was her favorite aroma.

No, but it's almost as bad as that. I need to calm down, Hannah. Do you have any chocolate?" "You've come to the house of endorphins, the source of the Dark Chocolate River, the heart of the Milk Chocolate Valley, and the foothills of the White Chocolate Mountains.

The air is hot and rich with the scent of chocolate. Quite unlike the white powdery chocolate I knew as a boy, this has a throaty richness like the perfumed beans from the coffee stall on the market, a redolence of amaretto and tiramisù, a smoky, burned flavor that enters my mouth somehow and makes it water. There is a silver jug of the stuff on the counter, from which a vapor rises. I recall that I have not breakfasted this morning.

CHURCH, not CHOCOLATE, is the TRUE MEANING of EASTER!!

Gli aromi di cioccolata, di vaniglia, del rame scaldato e della cannella che si uniscono danno alla testa, sono molto invitanti.

Felicità. Semplice come un bicchiere di cioccolata o tortuosa come il cuore. Amara. Dolce. Viva.

I took my time at the till, allowing the scent of my new batch of chocolate to filter through from the kitchen. Freshly ground Criollo beans; a dash of black pepper; a pinch of salt; then tamarind, vanilla and a generous measure of Armagnac.

In her hand the rice-paper twist releases its battery of scents; bitter chocolate melted with cream and sweetened with vanilla seeds, scented with roses as red as your heart. Try me. Taste me. Test me .

Beware, Morgane . You thought I wasn't dangerous? That chocolate was too sweet, too soft to rival your ink and your needles? Chocolate is an ancient art. It comes from very far away. And under the softness, the sweetness- it waits. And it is bitter.

Here, try one of my mendiants . Dark chocolate, sour cherries, and a sprinkling of coarse black pepper. They're new. Tell me what you think.

I go back into the kitchen. There are mendiants cooling on a sheet of greaseproof paper; little discs of chocolate, scattered with pieces of crystallized fruit; chopped almonds and pistachios; dried rose petals and gold leaf. Mendiants were always my favorites; so simple to make that even a child- even Anouk at five years old- was able to make them unsupervised. A sour cherry for the nose; a lemon slice for the mouth. Even her mendiants were smiling.

This morning it was sunny and bright, and Maman was making Easter things. There were eggs, and hens, and rabbits, and ducks, all in different sizes and varieties of chocolate, and Maman was decorating them with gold leaf, and hundreds and thousands, and sugar roses and candied fruit. Later she'll wrap them in cellophane, like fabulous bunches of flowers, each tied with a long curly ribbon of a different color, and put them all on shelves at the back, as part of her annual Easter display.

Instead she wants to know every detail of the menu I have planned for her party, relishing everything in advance. She is brimming with suggestions. Brandade trufée, vol-au-vents aux trois champignons , cooked in wine and cream with wild chanterelles as a garnish, grilled langoustines with arugula salad, five different types of chocolate cake, all her favorites, homemade chocolate ice cream...