A sweet gift
A chocolate donation made for sweet childhood memories.
American culture is made up of millions of stories, childhood experiences, urban and rural, rich and poor. Each life is part of the warp and weft of the fabric of the USA.
So today, I want to share a childhood story that may be different from most, but reflects an element of our culture that can be celebrated.
My dad was the bishop of our ward of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints. We lived in Aptos, California, a beachy little village on the coast near Santa Cruz.
One of the members of our ward worked for a wellknown chocolate company. One Friday afternoon, Dad got a call from the man asking if the church congregation would like a “load of chocolate.”
Apparently, a truck trailer loaded with mostly chocolate, had overheated. Sometimes, when chocolate has been melted, it can develop a white bloom and a grainy texture. The company’s quality control wouldn’t risk selling anything from a load that had the potential for being sub-standard.
The donor explained that the company was willing to donate the chocolate to our congregation under the condition that we never sold it and that anyone that received it understood why it was rejected. Capitalism wanted to hold hands with charitable giving!
There was no place to store the chocolate in our church building, so Dad agreed to have them bring it to our house. He pushed his woodworking tools to the sides of our two-car garage. We knew it was a special occasion when Dad actually swept up the sawdust.
We siblings disagree about the tonnage, but it was more than a ton of chocolate. It filled the garage from front to back, side to side and almost to the rafters. The smell that seeped through the wrappers and cardboard boxes wafted to my young teen nostrils like the breath of heaven.
Congregants did come, but took only a case of candy bars here or there. Nobody wanted to be greedy when we needed the greedy the most! Yet, when everyone avowed to having all they wanted, the garage was still at least half full.
We gave it to our neighbors and urged others to give to theirs. Our popularity soared.
We never drank milk without chocolate or strawberry powder mixed in. When we came home from school, we would spread peanut butter on a candy bar, cap it with another on top and sometimes add more peanut butter and a third candy bar.
There were almond bars, caramel bars and dark chocolate bars. Some had crisped rice, and some had nuts. On Sunday nights, we’d melt down a 1-pound chocolate almond bar, thin it with a little milk and serve it over ice cream.
Best of all were the almond fundraising bars. They came in a case about 12 inches cubed. The almonds were toasted whole and the chocolate was rich and dark. I would find a case of those delectable confections and hide it in the pile, as though I was worried that I wouldn’t get enough chocolate!
They also had a variety of other products included in the shipment. That was the first time I had heard of “chutney.” I remember that it was too sophisticated for my juvenile palate, but I have a feeling I’d love it now. There were soup bases and other savory offerings.
I have heard that if you get too much of anything, pretty soon you don’t like it anymore. But I believe I relished every bite. Rich dark chocolate with toasted almonds is still my favorite treat.
Just when we had given and gobbled almost the final pounds of chocolate, there was another overheated truckload. The garage was partially refilled, and feasting was renewed.
I don’t think any of us gained weight during those years, but we certainly didn’t lose any either. Most of us still have strong teeth. But thank you to the company who gave us a fabulous childhood memory, the stuff of culinary dreams.
Only in America. God bless it!