The Mast Brothers. Bearded, curious, adorable, funny, brotherly. I bought one of their lovingly crafted bars at Joe Coffee in New York's Greenwich neighborhood back in the fall. My very keen and understanding friend, Taylor, had set me up with a flask refill of some fine bourbon, so as the plane hovered somewhere above the half-way point on my return route, I began to delicately unfold the pertly printed thick cotton rag paper, then the gold foil with its deep, intentional creases.
While there was a bit of that greyish clouding on the surface of the chocolate (to be expected with the temperature and humidity changes of a coffee shop and roastery, perhaps?), the bar lived up to its nine dollar price tag. I poured a handsome glug of my amber, buttery spirit over some ice, spread out the papers that coddled this hand-wrought chocolate bar, and slowly broke off triangular shards (completely disregarding the embossed "guides" that show you how much of a portion is really, er, sensible?). Rich, dark, smooth, slowly melting, mingling on my tongue occasionally with the caramelly, cool bourbon. Well, I wish I had known while I was in Brooklyn for the day that I might have actually stopped by their magical little factory. It looks to be a haven for pure alchemy and delightful exploration. I'd like to shake these boys' cocoa-stained hands.