“ Edible chocolate,” explained Catherine. “A new innovation, fresh from Paris. Where, as you know, the French have refined sumptuous indulgence to an art form in itself.” She lowered her voice to a sultry murmur. “Aren’t you tempted to try it?”

All eyes fixed hungrily on the unusual confection. Soft mounds of Chantilly cream ringed the porcelain plate, accentuating the dark, decadent richness of the thick wafers arranged at its center. Ranging in hue from café au lait to burnished ebony, they rose up from a pool of port-soaked cherries.

“I must warn you, though,” she teased. “Chocolate is said to stimulate the appetite for other pleasures.” Her lashes fluttered. “But perhaps you are already sated after such a rich meal.”

“One can never have enough pleasure,” replied the gentleman as he plucked the top piece from its buttery perch and popped it into his mouth.

A collective sigh sounded from the others as he gave a blissful little moan, squeezed his eyes shut . . .

And promptly pitched face-first into sticky sweetness.

There was a moment of dead silence, followed by a slow, slurping shudder that sent a spray of ruby-red drops and pink-tinged cream over the pristine tablecloth.

“Good God, send for a physician!” screamed one of the guests. “The Prince Regent has been poisoned!”

2

From the chocolate notebooks of Dona Maria Castellano

Chocolate was served during religious rites and celebrations. It was often mixed with such flavorings as vanilla, cinnamon, allspice, chiles, hueinacaztli—a spicy flower from the custard apple tree—and anchiote, which turns the mouth a bright red! The Aztecs also believed that the dried beans of the cacao tree possessed strong medicinal properties. Indeed, warriors were issued cacao wafers to fortify their strength for long marches and the rigors of battle—a fact that Sandro will undoubtedly find of great interest. I, too, have remarked on the nourishing benefits of hot, sweetened chocolate. . . .