"You're a snob."

You know you need to do some serious soul-searching when an employee at Neiman Marcus calls you a snob. It was Saturday afternoon, I had a few hours to kill before my dinner plans and I had a hankerin' for some chocolate. I rarely step inside Neiman Marcus - frankly, I can't afford most of the things in there, and even if I could, I'm not sure I'd buy them - but it happens to be the only place I know of that carries a certain type of chocolate. An older lady with a big red smile drawn across a powdery white face and hair colored and coiffed to look like a large dollop of chocolate mousse was offering samples of chocolate confections on a fancy copper tray. I asked what they were, she replied Joseph Schmidt, and instinctively (it really was) I raised an eyebrow and declined. "I don't like Joseph Schmidt. I have trouble with the texture." Then it happened. She gave me a sidelong glance and said it.

"You're a snob."

But I don't mean to be. I just like good chocolate, and I don't like bad chocolate. There are very few brands that actually make chocolates themselves. Scharffenberger and Valrhona make their own chocolates from cacoa beans, and they're called chocolatiers. Others make confections out of the chocolates from these chocolate makers, or make chocolate blends from the chocolates of original chocolatiers and sell it under their own label. They're called confectioners. I like Valrhona chocolates because they're dark, velvety, and smooth. I dislike Scharffenberger because they have a sour note that tastes like bad acidic coffee. I like Michael Recchiuti and La Maison du Chocolat confections because the shells are delicate but crunchy, their ganaches fine yet firm, and their flavors poetic and robust. I don't like Joseph Schmidt because their shells seem artificially glossy, their fillings too creamy, and their infusions either strained or prosaic.

Oh sh-t. The Neiman Marcus sample lady was right. I'm a snob.