Paragraphs of Decadence from ‘The Chocolate Run’ by Dorothy Koomson.


It’s been quite awhile now, probably more than two weeks that I last finished reading The Chocolate Run by Dorothy Koomson. It was truly an interesting and unique book. I loved it despite the endless drama by the quartet of friends (Matt and Jenna, Amber and Greg). What I loved especially about the book is the author’s ability in describing a character by attributing them to different kinds of chocolate. Then again, it could have been research but man, she must have done some pretty good research to know what chocolate suits which character!

These were what I unearthed while I was reading the book (and yes, I took snapshots of the chocolatey paragraphs that stuck out with me the longest). These were the confectionery descriptions that Amber Salpone doled out on some of the people she met (I’m only missing the one she :

When describing Jenna Hartman, Amber’s then-best-friend:

She wasn’t like any chocolate or sweet I’d ever encountered. She was one of those new chocolate bars that you settled on as you walked into a shop. Its wrapping was so effortlessly classy that it made everything around it seemed so gaudy and cheap. This chocolate was unique. It was real white chocolate. Not the creamy colour most white chocolates are but snow white. It had lots of cream and milk and white sugar but minimal cocoa. It was soft around the edges, very quick and easy to melt so you had to be careful how you handled it. And because of that, because of the element of risk involved, most people would ignore it, going instead for what they knew. Grabbing their Mars or Twix or Dairy Milk because when it came down to it, most people tended to stick to what was familiar. And under that white chocolate bubbled real champagne. Fun, refreshing champagne, an experience you wanted to last and last.

When describing Martha, Amber’s co-worker at the WYIFF:

I knew instantly that she was a fruit and nut. Something reliable, an old favourite you liked having around. She’d always be your favourite piece of confectionery, you’d always think of her if you were having a party or needed someone to talk to. She was unpretentious like the chocolate and sweet like the raisins in a fruit and nut. But Martha had an excess of nuts. The hard bits you weren’t expecting to encounter when you were chilling. The nut you could break your tooth on if you pushed it. You found that out very quickly because with Martha, what you saw was what you got.

When describing Matt, Jen’s boyfriend and fiance:

With Matt, it was toffee. He was in no way chocolate and all the sensuous delights it brought. Inside him, at the very core of his being was a lump of toffee. Something that had no depth. Under each layer was nothing but more toffee. Try as you might you’d find nothing but hard, unchanging, unadventurous toffee. Alright, it was made with the best ingredients: hand-spun butter, thick and gloopy cream from an organically-raised cow, top quality sun-grown sugarcane sugar, but it was still toffee. It was still unchanging. I liked toffee but there was only so much of it you can take.

When describing Renee, Amber’s manager at the WYIFF:

Renee was a brandy liqueur truffle, made with genuine French brandy. Classy inside and out. Smooth, pure, dark chocolate. Bitter on the outside and covered in cocoa powder. Once you bit into it, though, the brandy startled you. It was smooth, warming. It gently heated your throat, then your oesophagus, then your stomach. Once it got to know you, this brandy liqueur truffle had no kick. It might threaten it by being brandy, but in reality, it was smooth and loveable. You never forgot a real brandy truffle – its unusualness was always there at the back of your mind. And you never forgot Renee, no matter how hard you tried. 

When describing Greg Walterson, Matt’s best friend:

Greg had been created by someone who didn’t know when to stop; someone who when presented with top-quality ingredients, chose to endow one man with them rather than dishing them out fairly amongst the rest of the male populace. Greg’s eyes, for example, were like Minstrels, were like shiny discs of hard, dark chocolate. His hair was so black it was blue-black and hung like long curls of liquorice around his face. His slightly olive skin was lovingly moulded onto his strong bone structure. And his lips… his lips were as succulent as pink Jelly Babies.

I don’t know about you guys but anyone who uses chocolates to describe another person is my favourite kind of person! It goes to show that you really have to know your chocolates before slapping on a name or type of chocolate onto whoever you were describing! Simply and truly amazing. And now, it’s making me feel like raiding my refrigerator for a piece of chocolate.

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