Scouring the net for something celebratory, I stumbled upon a Seattle chocolate walking tour of downtown. Tony bought us tickets and away we went the next morning for my best birthday ever.
The tour began in a hotel lobby, where we received head-set radios, then continued into the hotel bar, where we started our day with harsh, Bacardi heavy drinks as we waited for the latecomers to straggle in. The members of the group, finding this a bit much for ten a.m., mostly left full glasses behind as we left, while the tour leader, a brash young man with close cropped hair and humour, ignored our concern and led us out into the street, brandishing flash cards with various pictures of cocoa plants. I knew, then and there, the tour was going to be a riot, and it was, and for all the wrong reasons.
The next stop was a bakery, too small to let us in, where Tony and I began to break the rules. We were meant to wait outside in the chilly wind while plates of treats were handed out, but given half a chance, we darted inside, snagging coffee and snuggling in the warm, secure that if the group left, we’d hear it on the radio. It was there, too, we began to gain a reputation. Not for trouble, even though we were constantly making out, wandering off, and already knew all the answers to his questions, but as The Official Hedonists. Whenever we had a chance to speak, everything that spilled from our mouths sounded naughty. “Does anyone have any questions about the chocolate?” “Oh yes,” replied Tony, as innocent as the world, “This enrobing you were talking about.. Is it possible to enrobe a person in chocolate?” Never in my life have I been so obviously pigeonholed as a passionate, odd-ball sensualist. We very quickly became the secondary entertainment. “Can anyone tell me the best use of cocoa butter?” “Oh yes!” I said, delighted, “Body massage!”
We made him blush. We were winked at by various chocolate shop staff. The other members of our tour gave each other smoldering dark and secret looks. It was perfect and ever so much fun. So much so that our game even made up for the fact that one stop on the gourmet chocolate tour was at a popcorn shop. (Fail).
In summary: Skip the tour. Use the money instead to spend your money directly at the Dahlia Bakery, The Chocolate Box, (ignoring, if you can, their questionable chocolate smeared child banner), Fran’s chocolate’s, but most importantly, the blissful drinking chocolate at The Confectional. Do not let them fool you with their tiny cheesecakes. They are nothing. NOTHING. THE DELICIOUS DRINK IS ALL.
