Yummm, France. . .

Oh, wait, I meant “Yummm, fondue.” I am ready to celebrate the arrival of fall with a fondue, except that I don’t know anyone who would willingly come over to eat a bowl of cheese, and it seems a lot of fuss for one person. Maybe l will make raclette instead.
Whether you’re talking about fondue or France, it sounds lovely. Send me La Tour Eiffel une carte postale. What region will you be visiting?

As for the chocolate, today I broke down and bought a packet of M&Ms. I blame Candyfreak. My recent eating habits (except for a recent bacon-drenched brunch with my parents) have been shockingly abstemious, but Candyfreak tore through my considered, adult resolve like a hyped up teenager through the flimsy slippery wrapper of a king-sized Snickers. I snatched it up at the library, read the first three pages at the bus stop, and walked away from the approaching bus to buy candy. It’s not that Steve Almond’s writing is appetizing, more that his mad incantations send wafts of cocoa liquor scent streaming off the pages.

I bought a tiny bag of malted milk balls and a packet of tempting-looking but tasteless Piraque chocolate wafers. How can a cookie be both brittle and flaccid? But I am guessing the vitaminated wheatina cookies are Piraque’s real taste sensation, mmm – mmm: vitaminated wheatina!).

My informed decision to walk away from the bus kept me out 45 minutes late and garnered me some truly substandard cookies, but reading Candyfreak without sweets would have been a wriggling, burning torment. I have, however, been plagued by the insistent and inexplicable desire for the rarely encountered, thoroughly repulsive Sky Bar.