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Gourmet Grande Dame received a little parcel today from her colleague Candace Galore. It was a new variety of Ritter Sport: Fine Extra Dark Chocolate 73%.  It was accompanied by a hand-written note from Candy: “You’ll ‘get’ this one, Dame. Important for your maiden tasting that you do NOT crack open the foil wrapper as usual. You must behold this bar in its pristine state. It’ll bowl you over.” Candace was dead-on, as ususal.

Where must Gourmet Grande Dame begin? This bar does not have 16 squares as is typical for Ritter Sport chocolate bars. It has 36 miniature “temples” of exquisite dark chocolate made from Ecuadorian cocoa, reknowned for its fine quality.  Each tiny square rises to a flat-topped pyramid shape and features the Ritter Sport logo imprinted on top in the smallest font size GGD has ever seen on a piece of chocolate. The bar’s sheen was so beautiful Gourmet Grande Dame found herself staring at it as if at a work of art. The aroma was deep and intense.

Ritter Sport is kown for its thick bite quality. Its new  Fine Extra Dark Chocolate 73% is a radical departure. No biting here, thought Gourmet Grande Dame, who placed one small piece on her tongue, cleaving it to the roof of her mouth, and allowed the melting experience to occur. And what an expeience it was. This dark chocolate is intense, but not bitter or powdery dry, as so many high cocoa content bars are. It demands concentration, respect, and gratitude for the elements of nature and world commerce that converged to produce this remarkabe bar for chocolate connoisseurs. Riter Sport did not force nature to fit its mold; rather, it created a mold that best served nature. Such is the venerable wisdom of Ritter Sport.

How to best experience this new Ritter Sport variety?  GGD suggests savoring it, meditatively, as suggested by Thich Nhat Hanh, Vietnamese monk, peace activist, writer, poet. Consider his advice on how to eat an apple and substitute “Ritter Sport Dark 73%” as you read:

Give your undivided attention to it; just be still; being focused and slowing down will allow you to savor all the qualities the apple offers…. take a moment to look at it…. Take note: What kind of apple is it? What color is it? How does it feel in your hand? What does it smell like? Going through these thoughts, you will begin to realize the apple… is something more complex, something part of a greater whole.

 Mindfully take a bite… what it feels like in your mouth; what it tastes like; what it’s like to chew and swallow it. There is nothing else filling your mind as you chew—no projects, no deadlines, no worries, no “to do” list, no fears, no sorrow, no anger, no past, and no future. There is just the apple.

 

….when we view the apple on an even grander scale, we can see it as a representative of our cosmos. Look deeply at the apple in your hand and you see the farmer who tended the apple tree; the blossom that became the fruit; the fertile earth, the organic material from decayed remains of prehistoric marine animals and algae, and the hydrocarbons themselves; the sunshine, the clouds, and the rain. Without the combination of these far-reaching elements and without the help of many people, the apple would simply not exist.

If we eat it mindfully, it  feeds our soul and recharges our spirit.

Ritter Sport Fine Extra Dark Chocolate 73%: It is something more complex, something part of a greater whole. It feeds our soul and recharges our spirit. This bar demands mindful eating.

Savor the tiny temples of Ritter Sport's Fine Extra Dark Chocolate 73%

Every May 1, Gourmet Grande Dame pulls out her CD of Lerner and Loewe’s Camelot and listens to The Lusty Month of May. Over and over and over again. Julie Andrews as Guinevere is incomparable.

Tra la! It’s May!
The lusty moth of May!
That darling month when ev’ryone throws
Self-control away.

Tra la! It’s here!
That shocking time of year
When tons of wicked little thoughts merrily appear!

It’s May! It’s May!
The month of “yes you may,”
The time for ev’ry frivolous whim,
Proper or “im.”

It’s mad! It’s gay!
A libelous display!
The birds and bees with all of their vast
Amorous past
Gaze at the human race aghast,
The lusty month of May.

Lyricist Alan Jay Lerner was a genius, n’est-ce pas?

May 2013 heralded quite the celebration. Anthon Berg’s NEW Chocolate Cocktails made their debut and were prominent players at GGD’s May Day soiree. Rich dark chocolate shaped like a tiny liquor bottle holds a liquid center of Strawberry Daiquiri, Margarita, Cosmopolitan, or Mojito. (No need to choose among the four. It’s May!) But the best part: recipes for making your own cocktails appear on the back of the 15 and 16 piece boxes. GGD had all the components well stocked.

After sloshing down some Anthon Berg chocolate cocktails followed by a chaser of the sans-chocolate kind, GGD and her guests were ready to participate in her annual May pole dance. Out into the yard they went. Each guest grabbed a ribbon and danced round the May pole to, of course, “The Lusty Month of May,” tra-la-ing their way around the pole. Another round of Anthon Berg Chocolate Cocktails followed, at which point it was time for the cornerstone ritual of the evening: a dance around the symbolic May hole.*  A King size sateen sheet in pale pink filled with deep red rose petals represented said May hole, which, at the end of the dance, was flung into the air. All gazed with rapturous joy at the swirling petals as they spiraled down slowly from the sky. It was time… for another Mojito.

* Dancing around the May Hole is an annual tradition performed by Bryn Mawr College seniors. GGD had the privilege of observing the ritual the year her niece was graduating. It is a joyful, raucous parody, a feminist rebuttal to the phallocentric Maypole. Instead of a sheet, however, Mawrters use a parachute. 

May Hole Festivities at Bryn Mawr College.

“Hello. Gourmet Grande Dame speaking.”

“Dame!”

“Candy! Just hold on a moment while I turn off the radio…. All righty, then.”

“So what’d ya think of The Bugatti Queen?”

“Terrific book. Thank you so much! Seymour wrote another fine biography.”

“Yeah. Helle Nice is one of my idols.”

“Because she was a race car driver?”

“No, stripper.”

“Exotic dancer, Candace. ”

“A spade is a spade is a spade, Dame.”

“Honestly, Candace. Your parents easily foot the bill for four years at Barnard, your grandmother owns an island in Nantucket, for goodness’ sakes, and yet you refuse to ask them for the funds for a two week trip.”

“Dont’ be judgmental, Dame.”

“Well! As for Helle Nice, it’s quite remarkable that at the age of 3 the experience of seeing Camille Du Gast race left such an indelible impression on her.”

“Mmmm. Du Gast was no slouch herself. Parachute jumper, fencer, rifle shot, concert pianist, second woman to complete in an international car race, vice pres of the French League for the Rights of Women after World War I… Whew! And in 1904 she became the only woman official of the Automobile Club of France. Deliciously pugnacious, I understand.

“Her class and wealth stood her in good stead. Interesting contrast to Helle. ”

“Yeah. To her credit, though, Nice was an equal opportunity lover. Auto mechanics, fellow racers, Philippe de Rothschild, European nobility, Jean Bugatti. Her 1929 win, which set a new world and speed record for women, got her a tour of the U.S. the following year. That’s where she met de Rothschild who in turn introduced her to Ettore Bugatti , who was so smitten that he created a car color to match her eyes.

“Tres romantique.”

“And then she realized her dream — started racing with the boys in 1931, driving a Bugatti Type 35 in five major Grands Prix. Didn’t win any of those races, although she came in ahead of many of the big names. Did win a bunch of product endorsements, though. Nice had to be packing a tin of La Vie in the pocket of that racing coat of hers.”

“What a coincidence. I was just thinking along the same lines, but my internet search on when La Vie was founded proved fruitless. What makes you so sure?”

“It’s what I do for a living, Dame. Had to dig around a bit, but one of my industry contacts had the low down. Turns out a certain Sir Deudon, a druggist located in the North of France, decided to create a sweet in 1928 that would be good for throat infection. He used only natural ingredients and instead of packaging them in a traditional plastic bag, he chose a steel round box. He also decided to give a shape to his hard candy that would differentiate them from traditional French sweets. That steel round box is ideal for the glove compartment or pocket.”

“But the question remains as to which flavor Helle preferred.”

“Based on her preference for men running the spectrum, I’m pretty sure she would have kept a stash on hand of each flavor. I’m thinkin’ orange for pre-race, lemon during (eye-opener and all all that), and peppermint post.

“Your reasoning sounds sound. I would imagine she served the berry varieties  for entertaining: Strawberry, Raspberry, Cherry.”

“Yeah. But that still leaves the Tropicales and Pastillines.”

“For her sojourns in the South of France.”

“Damn, Dame, you’re good!”

“It’s what I do for a living… Candy.”

Helle Nice. After powdering her nose, she would have popped a La Vie.

Want to add a little variety in your life? As Helle might have said, "Say La Vie!"

2013 Bugatti featured at the NY Auto Show.

The New Jersey state branch of the American Association of  University Women (“AAUW”) held its Annual Meeting on April 14 at the lovely Forsgate Country Club in Jamesburg. Being the resident Thespian, Gourmet Grande Dame was asked to perform her theatrical shennanigans in keeping with the day’s theme of “Clueless or Clued In?”

Gourmet Grande Dame took ten Alstertor Mustard Mugs and taped to the bottom of each an important AAUW issue: Education Fund, Equal Pay, Stop Human Trafficking, Legal Aid Fund, STEM (Science, Technology, Engineering Math), National Convention, CQ Tracking, $tart $mart, VAWA (Violence Against Women Act), Educate Ourselves and Then Others.

When performance time arrived, she placed an Alstertor Mustard Mug in the center of each table in the meeting room. And then, with just a few well-placed flashy accessories to convey the Miss Scarlet character (from the boardgame Clue), GGD vamped her way  up to the microphone.

Her strategy was to provide enough clues so that the first person at each table to turn over the Alstertor Mustard Mug and get “clued in” got to keep the prized mustard as a prize.

“Talk about a game changer!” she began. “Want to know how to get clued in? The play begins with Miss Scarlet and proceeds clockwise. By chance, a toss of the die as it were, Miss Scarlett finds herself in the kitchen face to face with a certain Colonel (not of the corn variety, but with coloration of a similiar hue neverthless).”

“Any clues here, Colonel, on how to get clued in?” she asked her nemesis.

“I’m sure you’ll get to the bottom of it, Miss Scarlet,” he replied. He smiled slyly and, hoisting his beer mug in mock salute, said, “It’s bottoms up, Miss Scarlet.”

GGD knew it wouldn’t take long for the crowd to pick up on her intention. Ten happy winners yelled out the “clues” and won the perfect Barbecue condiment, just in time for the summer grilling season.

“It’s Dusseldorf-style mustard,” GGD informed the crowd, “tangy, creamy, smooth, much more flavorful than Dijon. It’s made from brown and yellow mustard seeds, vinegar, salt, sugar, herbs, and spices. That’s it. And for you art historians in the crowd, Dusseldorf mustard was immortalized in Vincent Van Gogh’s 1884 Still Life, where it is shown in a traditional pot called a ‘mostertpottche.’ But Alstertor’s mustard is packaged in this handy-dandy glass mini beer stein. Prost, Ladies!”

Following GGD’s bravura performance, 17 gift baskets donated by the various state branches were raffled off and raised over $800 for the AAUW Education Fund. Each year, EAB generously donates a basket for this raffle. And who won EAB’s basket? None other than this year’s Woman of Agent as Change honoree, Myera Green. How cool is that?!

A special thank you to GGD’s colleague, Linda Wette, who turns each year’s gift basket into a unique work of art.

Van Gogh's STILL LIFE 1884

Alstertor Mustard, a sausage's best friend

Notice how the EAB basket even matches the winner's ensemble!

Miss Scarlet's finery: flaming red scarf, white boa, Victorian fingerless lace gloves

Accompanied M. to the recent International Auto Show at the Javits Center. He’s eyeing specs and design, I’m eyeing eye candy colors. Saw Ritter Sport matches at every turn. Can’t help it. My brain’s just wired that way.

So here are some of my finds:

This cute little yellow number is screaming Cornflakes:

Couldn’t believe it when I spotted this color block style. My fave Ritter Sport mini combo is a square of Yogurt followed by a chaser of Nougat Praline.  And here it is, as realized in Rolls form:

Gotta contact my peeps in Waldenbuch. This purple Bentley simply must have a Ritter Sport variety to call its own.

But Candy’s heart belongs to Jags. Result of my having gone to a Museum of Modern Art exhibit in 1996 where I caught my first glimpse of the 1961 Jaguar E-Type, only one of three cars to have the honor of being in the museum’s permanent collection. Most amazing auto ever. Its designer was a mathematician. Natch. Check out this description from MOMA’s web site:

The body’s subtle, swelling curves and depressions reflect carefully calculated geometries based on the ellipse. The most prominent feature – the long, projecting hood – is modeled with a distinctive “power bulge” that runs down the hood’s center to accomdate the powerful engine. Louvered air-intake panels penetrate the otherwise smooth surface. The hood curves down to a grille-less nose that sucks in air to cool the engine. The gently swelling fenders terminate in glass cowl headlights that are seamlessly encapsulated into the body.

Ya gotta check this beauty out at MOMA to understand the obsession guys have with cars. Turns out it’s all about the ellipse! Should’a guessed.

But here’s the Jag dazzler from the auto show:

Granted, it’s no E-Type, but I can see myself tooling down the highway in it: red sunglasses, black scarf tied Grace Kelly style, one hand on the steering wheel, the other holding a Ritter Sport Marzipan bar.

A girl’s gotta dream.

Can’t sign off without giving you a glimpse of Candy’s fantasy car, ranked #1 on the 2008 list of the world’s 100 most beautiful cars of all time:

The 1961 MOMA Jaguar E-Type. Makes a gal swoon.

CAR CANDY:

Back in the sixties, you’d find this Ritter Sport bar in the glove compartment of a Jaguar X-Type: second bar from left.

Felt the urge to create a happenin’ — what with spring in the air and all.

So I slipped into Negril Village’s Rhum Lounge last Saturday ’round midnight with my It Bag filled with Chupa Chups Cola pops. (Negril is a terrific Caribbean Restaurant on 3rd St. in Greenwich Village. Great DJ who plays rockin’ Reggae and Calypso.)

Bellied up to the bar.

“Miguel! How’s my fave bartender?”

“Good evening, Ms. Galore.”

Couldn’t miss the panic in his eyes. “Not to concern yourself,  Miguel. No major clean-up required tonight.”

“Your confetti launchers are banned from this place, Ms. Galore.”

“Yeah, I know.” I chuckled.

“Permanently,” Miguel added.

“Awww… but Miguel, wasn’t it swell, though?”

He smiled.  He leaned in and whispered, “The best, Ms. Galore. By the time you were through, looked like the place was raided by the entire naval fleet. That confetti of yours was everywhere. A foot high. Even wound up on the ceiling.”

“Yeah. Sixteen launches worth, somethings’s bound to stick up there.”

“So what’re you up for tonight?”

“Watch,” and I winked.

I clambered up onto the bar and, standing tall, bellowed, “A round of rum shots for everyone!”

People cheered.

I turned to the DJ. “Hey Guy – you got the Andrew Sisters’ version of Rum and Coca Cola in your collection?” He nodded and said, “Also got Lord Invader’s original.”

I was impressed. But then again, this is an in-the-know joint. That’s why it’s my go-to place for spring fling.

“Okay, then. We’ll start off with Patty-Laverne-Maxine and then segue into Invader. Cue it up, Guy.”

Turned back to the crowd.

“We’re keeping it simple tonight, folks.  Back in the forties, the GIs down in Trinidad enjoyed a swig of rum followed by a coca-cola chaser. Tonight, a Chupa Chups Cola pop’s your chaser.” I dug into my It Bag and tossed Chupa Cola pops into the crowd. “Whenever you hear the line Drinkin’ rum and coca-cola, just substitute the word Chupa for Coca. Get it?”

They got it. Even the tipsy ones.

“Okay, let’s get going!”  I nodded to the DJ.

If you ever go down Trinidad,
They make you feel so very glad.
Calypso sing and make up rhyme
Guarantee you one real good fine time.

Drinkin’ rum and CHUPA-Cola,
Go down Point Koomahnah.
Both mother and daughter
Workin’ for the Yankee dollar.

Oh, beat it man, beat it….

Only took the first couple of verses for the DJ to break out his bongos. I jumped off the table and pulled out two Chupa Chups Pop Bouquets to serve as my air maracas. A minute or so later, a conga line formed. One particularly adept dancer ordered another round of rum shots for everybody.

By the time the DJ started playing the Invader version, Miguel strutted out a limbo pole.

“You first, Ms. Galore,” he said.

“I’m no Shemika Charles, Miguel, but I’ll give it my best shot.” (Shemika is the 18 year old Guinness World Record holder in limbo, having shimmied under a bar only 8.5 inches from the ground in 2010. You can catch her performance on You Tube. Definitely worth watching.)

Don’t know how many times Rum and Coca Cola played, but it generated a good 20 minutes worth of singing and dancing. The crowd really got into shouting CHUPA.

And they really got into the Chupa Chups cola pops:

• “This is great, man. Real cola flavor.”
• “As rock candy stirrers are to coffee, so will this cola pop be to my rum henceforth, my good woman, and messeurs” (he slurred).
• “I’ve gotta get me some of these.”
• “The best adult loolly ever! Ooops. I mean lolly. Yowzer.”

“It’s the best cola candy out there,” I yelled over the din.

“You’re the best Cola Candy, Ms. Galore,” Miguel shouted.

“No argument there, Miguel.”

Chupa Chups — they just make ya wanna dance. And sing. It was a helluva spring fling.

Chu-PA Co-LA!!

Find your Cola pops here!

Candy's Air Maracas

The perfect rum chaser

Gourmet Grande Dame holds a deep emotional attachment to lemons. She attributes this to her mother and to Pablo Neruda.

GGD was uprooted at the impressionable age of 13 from the gritty streets of New York City’s Upper West Side to the magnolia trees and manicured lawns of Atlanta.  While she was adjusting (albeit unsuccessfully) to the culture shock, her Mother had found Nirvana. Dorothy had always had a secret yearning to own a dwarf lemon tree. (Who knew?) The fire escapes of Manhattan brownstones were not ideal breeding grounds, but Atlanta presented the perfect environment, both indoors and out. And so a dwarf lemon tree, housed in a heavy, redwood slatted pot, made its way into our home. Dorothy lavished such care, attention, and love on this dwarf lemon tree that GGD could not help but regard it as a sibling of sorts. She even named it. Long before the scandal of sheer, see-through yoga garb, GGD chose the name Lulu Lemon (after Little Lulu, one of her favorite comic book characters).

When it came time to move back to the northeast, Dorothy devoted a special space in her Rambler American Station Wagon to move her beloved dwarf lemon tree up N’oth. When the family would stop over at a motel for the night, the lemon tree was brought in, family member that it was. In the morning, it took its assigned space back in Rambler. And so it made the journey from sunny south to nasty-weather New Jersey. GGD doesn’t remember what did it in — perhaps the shock of the move was ultimately too much for it to bear — but the tree didn’t last long in its new surroundings. In the three years or so of its life with us, the tree bore perhaps two or three lemons; it never grew to lush proportions. But a mother’s love sees only the best and the beautiful, and that’s what Dorothy saw. She was teased about her obsession with her dwarf lemon tree, but she paid no mind. She loved it.

“Lemon Water” was another Dorothy fixation. She made her favorite beverage by placing thinly sliced lemons into her rooster pitcher and filling it with water, letting the mixture marinate for several hours in the refrigerator. Is it any wonder that GGD became something of a lemonade afficionado? Even at business dinners, while others are ordering wine, GGD will ask about the house lemonade. She is quite the snob, actually. She will have none of this pre-packaged manufactured stuff , thank you.  (One of the best lemonade finds she has come across is made with muddled mint leaves. Incredible. The restaurant was kind enough to share its secret recipe with her.)

Turns out Dorothy was onto something. Lemons have remarkable properties. The juice of half a lemon in a cup of warm water first thing in the morning is a wonderful liver cleanser. Lemon juice promotes immunity and fights infection. It has strong anti-bacterial, anti-viral, and immune-boosting properties.  Inhaling lemon oil increases concentration and alertness. Lemons help remove fatigue, anxiety, tension. They can promote sleep and relieve pain. And the list goes on.

The dwarf lemon tree holds a special place in GGD’s heart and memory, and took on even deeper significance when she discovered Pablo Neruda’s poem A Lemon. (Neruda,  a Chilean poet, won the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1971; Gabriel Garcia Marquez once called him “the greatest poet of the 20th Century in any language.”) Here are excerpts:

…sodden with fragrance,
the lemon tree’s yellow
emerges….

so the freshness lives on
in a lemon,
in the sweet-smelling house of the rind,
the proportions, arcane and acerb.

Cutting the lemon
the knife
leaves a little cathedral:
alcoves unguessed by the eye
that open acidulous glass
to the light; topazes
riding the droplets,
altars,
aromatic facades….

a cup yellow
with miracles,
a breast and a nipple
perfuming the earth;
a flashing made fruitage,
the diminutive fire of a planet.

GGD’s readers need look no further than Manner’s Lemon Pocket Pack Wafers to experience the lemon’s essence. Manner’s Hazelnut Wafers may be the #1 seller, but Gourmet Grande Dame knows better, understanding as she does the inherent and divine wisdom of the lemon. She is no Neruda, but here is her best shot:

Light as air wafers.
Smooth, fruity-fresh lemon cream.
Sunlight in each bite.

Dorothy would have adored Manner Lemon Wafers.

GGD plans on curling up this weekend with Karen Russell’s just-published short story Vampires in the Lemon Grove. It’s about a vampire couple who have spent hundreds of years trying to find a substitute for blood, and they discover it in a lemonade stand in Italy.  She’ll be sipping a cup of green tea and snacking on Manner Lemon Wafers while reading. Perfect.

In last week’s post, Gourmet Grande Dame revelled in Gottfried Leibniz’s mathematical genius.  This week, she turns her attention to his romantic side. By the age of 12, Leibniz had memorized the bulk of Virgil’s Aeneid, having begun Latin lessons at the age of 6. Considering that this epic poem is 9,896 lines long and written in dactylic hexameter, this is indeed a prodigious feat.

Gourmet Grande Dame well remembers spending hours translating from Book IV of the Aeneid while a senior in high school. She won the Latin Award at graduation, which honor loses its patina somewhat when put into context: being the only 4th year Latin student that year, she won by default. But that did not diminish the fun she had learning about the passionate affair between Aeneas (son of Venus, no less) and Dido, Queen of Carthage. Venus had her other son, Cupid, plant himself in Dido’s lap to erase the memory of the queen’s deceased husband and to set her fires going for Aeneas. But gods and goddesses, being the meddlesome busybodies they are, press Aeneas to abandon Dido to pursue his destiny of founding Rome; and the pious twit obediently and submissively complies with  their demands. Off he goes, leaving Dido in the lurch and in the depths of despair. She stabs herself with Aeneas’s sword while hurling herself onto a funeral pyre.

High on Gourmet Grande Dame’s Gratitude List is that she lives in the enlightened era she does. Mon Dieu, mes soeurs, who among us would throw ourselves onto a funeral pyre or under a train or commit ritual supuku because our Aeneas takes off? Literature is replete with such tragedies. GGD prefers Gracie Allen’s take: “Never place a period where God intended a comma.”

When Jill’s Jack hits the road, holding a parting ceremony is a healthier and more appropriate response. Gather one’s girlfriends in a circle; hand each a Bahlsen Leibniz cookie; on the count of three, have them crush said cookies in hand (“that’s the way the cookie crumbles”), representing the symbolic dust of the departed. Then uncover a tray of decadent Choco Leibniz cookies (Milk Chocolate, Dark Chocolate, and Double Chocolate) so everyone can be reminded of and partake in the extraordinary pleasures life has to offer. Bahlsen’s Chocolate Leibniz cookies have such a thick overlay of premium chocolate that the grieved will become preoccupied with whether she is eating a cookie with chocolate or a chocolate bar with a cookie. How fast will fade the memory of you-know-who.

As for music (a must for all ceremonies), Gourmet Grande Dame insists on Andrea Marcovicci’s recording of Shakespeare Lied, music by Elmer Bernstein and brilliantly sardonic lyrics by Carolyn Leigh (of whom it is written, “she brought class, sex, and wit to the Great American Songbook”). Herewith an excerpt:

Everybody has a mother who with sympathy can smother,
But she’d very often save my darkest day.
When the doom and gloom would thicken, she would feed me soup and chicken,
And she’d lean across the table and she’d say:

Shakespeare lied. When Juliet died, Romeo didn’t go out and commit another suicide.
What did he do? He got over it. He caught a little flu, but he got over it, and so will you. You’ll get over it…

Did she intend it was really the end when Cleo clutched her asp? Not on your life.
She got used to it. She even sang of men she had seduced, to it.
And then she made a stunning lizard purse from it.

So grind your wisdom tooth, and tell yourself the truth.
From love we all may suffer, but if we weren’t tougher,
There wouldn’t be enough of us to say: You’ll get over it.

And for the ceremony’s closing, GGD suggests honoring Dido’s memory by having all in attendance recite this French tongue twister (with a mouthful of Choco Leibniz, of course):

Dido dina, dit-on, d’un dos du dodu dindon, don d’un don du Dordogne, a qui Dido a dit: Donne, donc, don, du dos d’un dindon. (Translation: “Dido dines, they say, on the back of a fat turkey, the gift of a Spanish grandee from the Dordogne River region, to whom Dido said, ‘Give me, then, sir, a turkey’s back.’ “)

As for Aeneas — what a turkey. Rome, Shmome.

Gourmet Grande Dame especially adores the glistening sheen of the bittersweet chocolate

Guercino's "Death of Dido"

Gourmet Grande Dame’s heart is all aflutter. The reason for her excitement? Two words: Leibniz Cocoa.

Bahlsen has been baking cookies and biscuits since 1891 when Hermann Bahlsen produced his first signature item, the butter biscuit, a cookie with crunch, made from real butter. It won a gold medal at the 1893 Chicago Exposition “for capturing the fine taste of butter.”

At the turn of the 21st century, Bahlsen produced a whole wheat version of this gem. And now, in  2013 A.D. (Anno Dame-ini), the company has introduced Leibniz Cocoa, its renowned butter biscuit enhanced (who would have thought it possible?) with the finest quality cocoa.

Gourmet Grande Dame is holding a tasting party this month featuring all three Bahlsen Leibniz butter biscuits. Her industry colleague, one C. Galore, insists that there is only one suitable beverage for the occasion, and is providing adequate supplies of Pol Roger Rich, the perfect dessert champagne.

Hermann Bahlsen named his signature cookie after an illustrious Hannover citizen, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz. Born in Leipzig in 1646, Gottfried Leibniz was one of the great thinkers of the 17th and 18th centuries, known as the last “universal genius” (Stanford Encyclopedia of Philosophy), whose brilliance spanned the fields of metaphysics, epistemology, logic, philosophy of religion, mathematics, physics, geology, law, and history.

Francophile that she is, GGD was thrilled to the core to learn that Leibniz had spent four years in her beloved Paris. Diderot wrote of Leibniz, “What he has composed on the world, God, nature, and the soul is of the most sublime eloquence.”

But to cut to the chase: Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz was the father of differential calculus. (Newton claimed that Leibniz had used his theories and disputed Leibniz’s contributions until their deaths, but Leibniz was vindicated centuries later.)  “The straight line is a curve,” Leibniz wrote. (GGD swoons at the thought.) And thus were fractals born, some 200 years before topology and calculus demonstrated that the coastline of the state of Georgia is  longer than the coastline of California. It’s all about trapezoidal approximation under the curve, you see. (Does it get any better than  this?! Gourmet Grande Dame thinks not.)

Before she and her guests enjoy their Leibniz cookies,  GGD will take a moment to pay homage to the lines and, yes, the curves that comprise the cookie’s fluted edge. She and her company will think of Leibniz and his contributions to civilization; they will think of Hermann Bahlsen and his contributions to the specialty food trade.  And then all thinking will come to an abrupt halt. They will inhale deeply, enter into the moment, and then joyfully dive into the plate of Leibniz butter biscuits and quaff down glass after glass after glass of champagne.

To infinity and beyond!

Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz: Genius

Leibniz Cocoa: PURE genius

M. opened his door to find me with an ear-to-ear smile plastered on my face and a bottle of Pol Roger swinging from my left hand.

“What’s this?” he asked

“My new fave, M.”

“What happened to the Madame’s champagne, Candy, the one you swore allegiance to? You’re a fickle woman, Galore.”

“I take my anthem straight outta Cole Porter.”  I broke out into song:

Mr. Gable – I mean Clark-
Wants me on his boat to park.
If the Gable boat means a sable coat…
Anchors Away!
But I’m always true to you, Darling, in my fashion.
Yes,  I’m always true to you, Darling, in my way.

“Kiss Me Kate, right?”

“Yup. So am I invited in or do you want me to sing another stanza?”

“Get in here.” He hoists me and the champagne over his shoulder and carries us in.

“As far away as the neighboring property is, that voice of yours carries;  can’t risk a disturbing-the-peace call to the police. So what brought you around to Pol Roger?”

“Had a reunion with an old friend of mine for dinner at Bar Boulud. He’s a wine ambassador for an Italian vineyard and manufacturer. I was about to order a glass of you-know-who with my pate when he informed me that the label was no longer what it used to be in the ’80′s. ‘ Too sweet now,’ he said. So he orders up a bottle of Pol Roger, Winston Churchill’s favorite, he adds; named a cuvee after him. And it was the champagne served at a certain British Royal Wedding.”

“Well, it was Churchill who said, ‘I am easily satisfied with the very best.’ ”

“And to a woman who made an offensive remark about Churchill being snookered, he shot back, “I may be drunk, Miss, but in the morning I will be sober and you will still be ugly.”

“Hah! Good one, Candy. So what’s new with the wine ambassador?

“I mentioned my work with Ritter Sport and the guy waxed rhapsodic over the brand. ‘It’s an international bar without being internationalized,’ he said. ‘They neither dilute nor desecrate their recipes. Unlike competitors who sacrifice taste and quality to appeal to the palates of a particular country, Ritter Sport retains its authenticity. Wherever you happen to buy a Ritter Sport bar, whether in the Middle East, the U.S., throughout Europe, anywhere in the world, it’s made according to the identical recipe as the bars you’ll find in Germany. It’s a genuine quality German experience, true to the culture and the Ritter family legacy. You don’t find integrity like that very much nowadays.  And it’s an affordable boutique chocolate.’  ”

“He said all that?”

“And more. He’s a real verbal type.”

“Which is his favorite bar?” M. asked.

“Dark with Whole Hazelnuts.  Thought he’d stroke out while describing it, actually… was really into it.”

“Might I inquire?”

“Just an old friend, sweetie.” And I broke out into a Porter parody of my own making:

My food magnate, name is M.,
A real hunk… creme de la creme.
His Pagani car’s filled with Ritter Bars….
I’m here to stay.
Cause I’m always true to you, in my Ritter fashion.
Yeah, I’m always true to you, sweetie, in  my way.

Next thing I know, M. breaks out into a Kiss Me Kate number himself:

So taunt me, and hurt me,
Deceive me, desert me,
I’m yours ’til I die,
So in love with you am I.

I grin. “Ya sing good.  Now dessert me.”

He thinks for a sec before asking, “Is that with one “s” or two?”

“That’s my boy.”

And then he really knocks my socks off: pulls a Ritter Sport bar from his desk drawer, snaps open the foil, and pushes a square into my mouth.

“Coconut!? ” I exclaim,  talking and chewing and swooning at the same time. “It was my absolute favorite until Ritter Sport discontinued it some years back. I heard they were reintroducing it. But these babies aren’t even due into the U.S. for at least another month or two! How’d you get a hold of it, M?!

“Got my peeps, Candace. It’s an even better recipe than its predecessor’s; tropical coconut flakes in a coconut and milk filling. So come on and kiss me, Candy.”

“I think now’s the time to break out the Pol, M.”

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