‘What? You don’t like chocolate?’ The British Airways attendant almost shouted at me in incomprehension as she was passing out little packets of chocolate digestives. I had had the temerity to ask (in economy, of course) whether there might be any other biscuits on offer. To which she had responded with a concerned enquiry about allergies. No, I said, I am not allergic. I just don’t like chocolate.
I can’t say I was surprised by the attendant’s reaction. Any suggestion that you might not share the current appetite – nay, fetish – for chocolate and you are treated as though you’re inexplicably withdrawing yourself from the cultural mainstream. This applies particularly to women. In the event that a man declines chocolate, this tends to pass without comment. So be it. A woman who declines chocolate, on the other hand, risks finding herself treated as somehow deviant. And if a conversation among women turns to chocolate, well, the best course by far is to keep quiet.
A conversation about chocolate will not be of whether, but what – preferences in taste, texture and brands, perhaps prices and outlets. Interject that, actually, you don’t really like the stuff, and a full interrogation follows, reflecting a near-universal disbelief. You are allowed to dislike almost anything else in the sweet line-up: liquorice, Turkish delight, marshmallows, etc., but not chocolate.
In one way this is strange, as there are health reasons why some people might sensibly decline chocolate. Along with cheese and some red wine, chocolate can be a trigger for migraines. This is not my particular problem. I am mostly unfussy about food, I just happen not to like it. But the migraine connection should be a reason for mass caterers, such as airlines, to avoid a take-it-or-leave-it chocolate.
Whatever the medical and gender aspects, an exaggerated enthusiasm for chocolate has somehow become an unquestioned part of modern mores, and the more exotic and ‘pure’ the variety, the more desirable it will be. Air miles are seemingly no object. You can find people stoically eschewing avocados, citing the fruit’s inordinate thirst for scarce water, who will happily seek out chocolate made from beans grown in, say, Dominica or Uganda. The extent of chocolate choice in many supermarkets is now as wide as for coffee, and attracts some of the same snobbery – sorry, connoisseurship.
I had rather hoped that the recent Dubai chocolate affair might have spelled the beginning of the end of this country’s chocolate fetish – a phenomenon mostly not found elsewhere. You may remember how Waitrose featured in the news just a few weeks ago for reportedly limiting the amount of so-called Dubai chocolate that any one customer could buy. It turned out that TikTok influencers (but of course) had successfully promoted the delights of a chocolate bar containing pistachio and filo, causing a run on the bars. The shortage was exacerbated by poor pistachio harvests in various parts of the world.
You are allowed to dislike almost anything else in the sweet line-up: liquorice, Turkish delight, marshmallows, etc., but not chocolate
Regrettably, the effect was not to quell the demand for exotic chocolate, but to spawn a host of imitations, demonstrating that the Dubai chocolate craze was but one fleeting aspect of a much bigger and longer-term trend. If you don’t believe me, take a trip to almost any mid- to upper-range supermarket and note all the shelf space currently occupied by chocolate. While traditional boxes of chocolates are, if not quite in a minority, then conspicuously in retreat, that is old chocolate. New chocolate, in the form of ever darker, higher-concentrate bars from ever farther producer countries, marches on. Even in the run-up to Easter, I registered more space at a large M&S dedicated to chocolate bars than displaying seasonal eggs, rabbits and chicks.
I can understand why many mid-20th century parents might have had a bit of a thing about chocolate – remember blue-wrapped Cadbury’s Dairy Milk or Fruit and Nut, or red-wrapped Nestlé bars. After all, they had lived through wartime sugar-rationing; chocolate was both a novelty and a treat. And maybe something of that mentality has been passed down to the third and fourth generations, along with the presumption that everyone likes – sorry, loves – chocolate. I hope it won’t take another war for us to lose this chocolate addiction.
In the meantime, I was pleased to find that on two recent BA flights, the offerings were a blueberry bar and shortbread respectively, though the chocolate digestives will surely be back soon.
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