Sometimes I’ll get chocolate through my letter box with no information. It’s like receiving a message to meet somebody at a secret location with no explanation: intriguing but slightly disconcerting. Thankfully with a bit of digging I found that Kavey has tried some of this chocolate recently and there she gives a bit of a background to why Tad started making chocolate – inspiration from the Marou guys for one and also explains which types of beans her chocolate was produced from and at what cocoa level. The beauty of not knowing anything about the chocolate is that I have no preconceptions of what the chocolate should taste like, the downside is that I have no idea of what the beans have the potential to become.
The Japanese wrapping is rustic, dainty and very elegant. On opening the packaging your first hit by the intensity of the aroma. It’s punchy, direct and assaulting my nasal package – but I love that about chocolate. The moulding isn’t great. Vibration plates are expensive, but a bit more tapping would certainly have helped avoid the creation of air bubbles and pot-marks.
The snap and the tempering are superb. The mouth-feel also cannot be faulting given the level of experience. While the flavour reminds me of the warming hot chocolate, my parents used to bring back from their trips to France. There’s nothing that resembles the kind of intensity the aroma signals, just a immaculate, jam and cream profile that leans it towards the ‘session’ chocolate category than those chocolates that make you recoil in flavour or pique the interest as flavour notes evolve.
It’s certainly an enjoyable chocolate that’s well-crafted. When you’re making from home or with rudimentary processes it is so easy to have flavours tainted by the environment, I’m glad that there is none of this going on. When you’re making chocolate with few ingredients you have nowhere to hide -thankfully Tad didn’t need to. I look forward to seeing how the next range of chocolates evolves.