geli-- I feel your pain.
For a brief time, I lived in Blois, home of Chocolaterie Poulain. When I would stand on the train platform, the air smelled like a baking brownie. Alas, no brownies in France. However, the perfume got me to do the factory tour, and, as a result, I have since been convinced that Roald Dahl was writing nonfiction. As I recall, they had a massive -- maybe a kilo-- Poulain bar. It's hard to put one's finger on what makes Poulain so good. Could it be one of those madeleine-type portkeys? IIRC, the right level of roast was achieved in the cocoa beans and the sugar was judiciously measured and incorporated. In any case, I sincerely want to help. I could have my friend in Paris put a couple of bars in the mail. PM me if I can make your chocolate dreams come true, nothing would make me happier ( and, being no martyr, I would also ask for a bar for myself.(':wink:')
Man : I can't understand how a poet like you can eat that stuff.
T. S. Eliot: Ah, but you're not a poet.