Waiting for Godiva...

I've just finished reading Judy Gruen's fantastically funny book, ‘Till We Eat Again: Confessions of a Diet Dropout' and intend to review it on here shortly. In the meantime, Judy has kindly donated one of her columns, which reminds me of a battle I know well.

If you've ever been in a position where you've struggled not to eat or drink the present you bought for someone else (admit, you know you only bought in the hope they'd share it anyway) then read on:

And then there were none (by Judy Gruen)

"For six weeks I was tormented by close contact with a box of Godiva truffles and didn’t touch a single one. If I may brag, this degree of self-restraint was remarkable on my part. Yet who among us doesn’t have a breaking point?

Just for the record, Godiva chocolates are not a staple on my regular shopping list. I had bought them as a special indulgence for my husband on his birthday. Okay, I confess: I was banking on him sharing the stash. But in my defense, the truffles were an act of desperation. Like a lot of men, my husband is hard to buy for. He doesn’t hunt, fish, or whittle wood into ducks in the garage. He has enough ties to outfit all of Wall Street. He is maddeningly unmaterialistic.

I finally ordered tickets to a concert, but the event was several weeks off. The truffles were just a stopgap measure. Unfortunately, my spouse is neither a foodie nor a chocoholic. To him, eating is just a pesky nuisance interrupting an otherwise productive workday. After accepting his chocolates, he put them aside and promptly forgot about them. Each day he went off to work and the kids went to school, leaving me in the house with the Godiva. Alone, unsupervised, and yearning.

I tried to go about my business, but the thought of those truffles sitting in the refrigerator gnawed at me. I tinkered with the fridge’s thermostat to make sure I wasn’t over-chilling the delicacies. Their ultimate purpose in life was to be eaten, preferably by a bittersweet chocoholic like me. How long would they have to wait to fulfill their cocoa-dusted destiny?

I wrestled with my conscience. If pressed, I could justify eating my husband’s truffles on health grounds. New research proves that the antioxidants in dark chocolate enhance endothelial functioning lasting. I’m not sure what endothelial functioning means, but it sounded like something urgent. Something that I needed to have, and right from the source.

On the other hand, a theft is a theft. Would I sell my moral principles for a mochacinno chocolate truffle with an espresso-flavored mousse and vanilla-cream center? Had I become a woman of cheap chocolate virtue?

As the days passed, I felt my resolve crumbling like so many Oreos. One night after dinner, I waved the box – still with its chocolate brown ribbon -- in front of my husband and demanded that he eat at least one. “Maybe later,” he said as he headed out the door. “I’m going to clear the rain gutters now. They’re predicting rain.” I felt a chocolate meltdown coming on.

After my husband had cleared the rain gutters, I followed him around the house with the chocolates. “If you care about my mental health and my waistline you will begin to eat your birthday chocolates – now,” I demanded. This got his attention. Taking the box from me, he noticed the price, which I had forgotten to remove. “You paid this much for eight chocolates?”

“No price is too high to celebrate a man like you,” I said, wanting him to get on with it. Knowing how much I paid for the truffles may have soured his appetite, but my husband dutifully ate the smooth coconut truffle. In the spirit of togetherness, I had the double chocolate raspberry.

That was two weeks ago and he hasn’t taken a single other truffle since. This morning I decided that anyone who could ignore Godiva chocolates for this long didn’t deserve them anyway. I opened the box to savor a piece with a cup of coffee, and was shocked to discover that two truffles were missing!

Obviously, one of the children found my secret hiding place for them, behind the pre-washed arugula. (I really didn’t imagine anyone would check there.) It was only a matter of time before this same sticky fingers absconds with the rest. No wonder that society worries about the declining moral standards of today’s youth.

Not wanting to become an accessory to a crime committed by minors, I ate a French vanilla truffle. And then a dark chocolate one.

Now there are only two left. If I can force my husband to have another one after dinner tonight, I should have this box finished by Wednesday, and this entire sorry episode of the truffles will be behind me. Literally. And next year, when my husband’s birthday rolls around, he just may find himself with another tie after all."

Judy Gruen is the author of two humour books.