The truffle hunter
I like to end a meal with coffee and chocolate. I will happily forfeit a good night’s sleep and a thigh gap for caffeine and cacao. A crystal bowl filled with bright, shiny-papered Lindt balls or gold foil-wrapped Ferrero Rocher is my equivalent to my ma’s elegant post-dinner-party treats served with coffee. Marie was partial to Cote d’Or bouchées. , we called them, because they were shaped like elephants. They were unlike any chocolate I had ever tasted. A world away from the fake-flavour Sam used to hide in his clothes cupboard among his polyester paisley cravats.
