The Toblerone Factor

Here it is, 6:30 am, and I already suspect today maybe isn’t the sort of day to get up early for. Nonetheless here I am, in good faith, wearing a quilt toga-style and preparing to ruminate on guilt and disappointment, as they may be applied to the world of Swiss Chocolates.

Do you remember the first time you tried a Toblerone? To be honest with you, I don’t. My dad liked to partake of things he felt were finer than the main-stream offerings, so we would have the occasional Toblerone with a movie, instead of like say, a Hershey bar, or coconut oil soaked popcorn.

I don’t remember the first taste, but I remember they were good. Really good; I mean really, really good. These things are shaped like an elongated pyramid, too, which makes them seem good to the third power. How come more candy manufacturers don’t apply shapes to their offering?


Shapes make it more fun.

And on the front of a Toblerone is a line of copy which speaks to the goodness in all men’s hearts:

S W I S S .  M I L K . C H O C O L A T E . W I T H .  H O N E Y .  A N D . A L M O N D .  N O U G A T

If you soak in those words for a minute, the subliminal message floats to the surface: This sturdy cardboard triangle is the cherished land of milk and honey.

And you’ve found it. No! It’s found you. It came all the way from Switzerland just to make your day.

How cool is that?

Well, it’s very cool,  except-

while I don’t remember my first Toblerone, I remember yesterday’s Toblerone, and I’m pretty darn sure that it wasn’t as good as it was supposed to be.

There, I said it.

I was actually disappointed. I was so ready to feel that chocolate melt againt my tongue, and sink into the river of yummy goodness, that it took awhile to figure out I was kind of… surreptitiously…bummed. I was trying to make the most of it, but even that effort made me feel a little guilty.

I almost felt I was being unfaithful toward my early experience of Toblerone, as I became increasingly aware that my Toblerone just wasn’t turning me on.

It wasn’t bad or anything. It just wasn’t great.

Aren’t they usually great? Surely that was what fostered my love of Toblerone to begin with, the great tastiness? Not just the shape, and the message, and the prettiness; the powerful impression that this candy bar is the true-blue whole package.

I don’t really trust my own perceptions enough to know for sure. Was it always not so great? Was I simply lured in by  the awesome potential? Or do my memories of its greatness have validity, and has the Toblerone gone tragically downhill?

Which is it?

I confess, my first instinct was to blame Lindt Chocolate. Now there’s a Swiss company who obviously hasn’t capitulated to the sneaky practice of upping the wax-content in candy. Toblerone likely suffers in comparison because those Lindor truffles are so damn good. And those saucy little wrappers! Who could stand up next to that shameless, silky chocalatiness? The texture: The texture alone of a Lindt truffle is melt-your-face good. It’s actually pretty suspect, in all honesty. Lindt must employ some unfair, voo-doo practices in order to enchant me the way that their truffles do.

I feel compelled to stick by the old triangles from a sense of loyalty. I will make myself enjoy the gosh darn Toblerone, if need be.

It’s a little freaky though-  the sliding scale of memory/impression, and that whole self-doubt, loyalty thing that kicks in when an old faithful suddenly doesn’t seem to measure up. Personal attachment can be so very fickle.

Maybe I have been a little miserly to my dear, sweet Toblerone.

Maybe if I just ride this out patiently, he will taste good again to me, tomorrow.


10 thoughts on “The Toblerone Factor

  1. Pingback: The Toblerone Factor

  2. I’ve felt this way about my beloved cheetos. It’s a sad day, really.

    My husband says those Lindt chocolates, the little ones in the red wrappers, are “chocolate heaven”. :)

  3. I think they are quite good but I don’t trust myself around a full bar. I have to get only the little bite sized ones.

    And I’m not a chocolate person so I can’t really get into the chocolate heaven descriptions or even imagine the taste of it. Sometimes I wish I could.

  4. Did you know that the pyramids are supposed to represent the Matterhorn? I love them. I’m not much of a chocolate person, but Toblerone is delish.

  5. Please, please, please … don’t remind about Lindt chocolate. I swear I am not going to follow that link. I had a serious addiction in my early twenties and travelled once a week to the only place I new that sold it. A cute little shop hidden away in Town Hall station. Eventually, my teeth rebelled and started throwing spears into my gums every time I came near the stuff.

  6. I had my first Toblerone a couple of years ago when it was left on a hotel bed the way some places leave mints. I thought it was okay, but I’m addicted to Lindt so everything is okay next to that. So yeah, blame it on Lindt’s.

    My favorite Lindt’s, btw, is the spicy dark chocolate, the one with chili in it. I found it once and it has eluded me ever since. Somewhere in my travels I hope to find it again. I know it still exists:

  7. I eat the occasional Toblerone. Most of the chocolate in China tastes like chalk. They are a special treat.

    I hope the same does not happen to me. It will be a sad, sad day.

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