The two words together remind me of one of my favorite jokes told by Jim Gaffigan. Fruit cake. There's a food that doesn't add up. Fruit - good. Cake - great. Fruit cake - nasty crap.
The same would seem to be true of chocolate wine. Chocolate - good. Wine- great. Chocolate wine??
At least that was what I thought when about four of the Sassy 7 introduced chocolate wine to me.
"Try it," they said.
"I don't think I'll like it," I wined. (Sorry. I know that was bad, but I had to. I just had to.)
"It's delicious," they contended.
"But I don't drink." I protested. "Oh, okay. Just a taste."
If you ask any of the Sassy 7 if this is really how my first experience with chocolate wine went down, I'm sure you'll hear something completely different. Like how I'm really a lush and will drink about anything. Lies. All lies.
Well, maybe not entirely untrue.
Okay. I'm a lush.
Chocolate wine is actually extremely tasty. Delicious. Imagine mixing thick chocolate milk with vodka. That's what chocolate wine tastes like to me. From everything I've read, it really is wine.
The wine we drink is ChocoVine. If you check out their website, you'll not only get some very good recipes on how to use ChocoVine, you can also see videos of a bartender walking through how to mix the recipes.They're fabulous.
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Going Down Excerpt:
Once the door closed, Steven reached over me to push the Ground Floor button on the control panel, pressing his huge, six-foot something body against mine. For a crazy moment I wanted to poke at his stomach. Nobody really had rock hard abs. Surely the wall of steel pushing into me was a result of wearing a bulletproof vest, not spending hours in a gym.
“I don’t think we’ve ever been introduced. I’m Steven Cayden.”
Little did he know, I not only knew his name, but thanks to the internet and the insignia on his military uniform, I had also figured out Steven Cayden was actually Lieutenant Commander Steven Cayden, a member of the United States Navy Seal team. A highly decorated Lieutenant Commander that.
Heart pounding enough blood into my brain to cause a seizure, I verbally stumbled over my own name. “I...I’m Michelle Bishop.”
He lowered his lips to my ear. “It’s nice to finally meet you, Michelle.”
Hearing him say my name with his captivating voice had my stomach doing more flip flops than an Olympic gymnast on the uneven bars. The crazy way my body reacted, he may as well have said, “I know you’re wearing nothing but a bra and panties under that coat of yours. I’m going to rip that sucker open and tear your thong off with my bare teeth.”
But before I had a chance to utter a word, the lights went out and the elevator came to a screeching, bone-shattering halt. Suddenly the world was quiet and pitch black.
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