There are a few things that make me feel that deep sense of luxury. Among them – sipping a perfectly made champagne cocktail as a prelude to a wonderful meal with friends; a light blue box bound with white ribbon; a quaff of freshest coconut water on the beach in Leblon; and, finally, a cache of chocolates, from Teuscher in Beverly Hills. Janis Joplin asked for a Mercedes Benz. I’d settle for one of those discreet green boxes filled with cosmic deliciousness.
I’m not sure how I was introduced to this fetishistic indulgence. Perhaps at a swanky party. But when I first visited the actual store front, I took little notice of the vibrant red awning, the old-world whimsical interior decorations, and the bevy of bespoke suited power brokers, glamorous expats and wealthy Beverly Hills mavens colonizing Teuscher’s outdoor café. The dismay I experienced at the cash register, however, was a clue to let me know that my previous tasting had not been an intoxicated exaggeration.
I began with a Champagne Truffle. Teeth sink slowly down through the thinnest dusting of powdered sugar, breaking a layer of smoothest, richest milk chocolate shell, into the fluffy, almost mousse-like, layer of chocolate truffle, and finally to the small yolk of a champagne center – infused with Dom Perignon champagne. Pang! Explosion of delight. Voila! Birth of an addiction. And the delight extends beyond the champagne truffle to the buttercream crunches, the stamlis and anything else that catches your personal fancy.