Our house is full of Ferrero Rocher. They’re everywhere. Drifts of the damn gold foil wrapped chocolates are migrating across the floor.
I actually thought that would be a good thing, but I’m increasingly realising that I’m not all that fond of them. Not that I don’t like them, I mean I think the ambassador chose them because few people could actually dislike a Ferrero Rocher (except people with nut allergies, I guess. I bet that would ruin his fancy party – a case of anaphylactic shock among the guests) they’re so inoffensively nul. The cucumber sandwich of the chocolate world, up there with malteasers (though you can let malteasers melt in your mouth which makes them infinitely preferable).
But that’s the the problem now, I mean if I’m going to eat a calorie loaded ball of chocolatey yummy I kind of expect better. After all, that is stomach space that could be used for bacon, right? I’d hate to be in a position to say “no, I’m sorry, I can’t have that bacon sandwich with its crisp, smoked bacon, the fat every so-slightly crunchy and the heat melting the real, creamy butter to drip oozing through the soft white bread of the still warm, freshly baked onion bread, cut with the sharp tang of a small amount of melted mature cheddar” because I’ve filled up on chocolate coated overly-nutty puffs of air.
Damn. I want a bacon sandwich now.
I’m not quite sure how our Ferrero Rocher infestation began. I recall both Beloved and I remembering that we needed to get a box for the holidays, then us both getting a big box, then us both forgetting we’d got the box among the chaos of the shopping and we got extra. And then Aunt D INSISTED she needed a box for the holidays even though we know she doesn’t like them, she insisted she did. We got the them and she said “I don’t know why you got these, you know I don’t like them” (ah relatives).
THEN at some point Beloved realised that we have so many boxes of Ferrero Rocher already that it wouldn’t take many more to be able to create the classic Ambassador’s Ferrero Rocher pyramid and then we could invite our friends to come round all dressed up, put on cheesey foreign accents, get drunk, play Nation Munchausens and repeat the Unfortunate Fondue Episode – such fun!
So Beloved proceeded to pyramid build. To which he concluded that, whether the Ambassador is spoiling people or not, he most certainly has a very very steady hand.
I concluded that he used glue – but I’m not saying that because that’s a new carpet and I’m not unleashing Beloved, superglue and round objects that roll on my new carpet.