Eclipse Chocolat and imbibed an excellent lavender-caramel hot chocolate. Their drinks come in very thin porcelain cups, and best of all, alongside two fluffy homemade marshmallows. Some diners chomp, some nibble, but most, including me, plop them into the frothy chocolate and slurp them as they turn to foam.
That afternoon, they were out of marshmallows. So I drank the chocolate on its own. Still phenomenal.
A preface you need to know to understand:
How I recuperated two missing marshmallows
This weekend I returned to Eclipse with a drunken band of ruffians. We were coming from a blind wine tasting and desperately craving something, anything, to dilute the alcohol before the drive home. Not to mention prolong the good times.
So we stumbled into Eclipse and ordered a bunch of hot chocolates, which came with marshmallows this time.
At one point, someone made this remark: "I think this place is all about the marshmallows. That is their thing. The chocolate is good, but what sets them apart is the marshmallows."
Everyone was loving the marshmallows.
And then they were gone.
I mentioned that we were lucky to get some so late; last time, they were sold out by the afternoon.
Someone else spoke up.
"Aren't you the Daily Asker?"
"So ask! Go get back your marshmallows!"
I approached the counter, caught the barista's eye as she was preparing another drink, and when she had a break I made my request.
"I was here a few weeks ago and got a hot chocolate, but you had run out of marshmallows. Can I get those now? I promise I'm not lying." (Not sure why I added that sentence, but I know they don't part with their marshmallows easily: extras cost 50 cents.)
Result: Two more marshmallows for the table.
Sometimes I wonder if I should start calling this blog "The Daily Food Asker" (catchy, I know), since half of what I request somehow relates to food.
To buck that trend, here are two links you should definitely check out:
1) New accountability in the blogosphere.
2) A project I'd love to try, if I were a stay-at-home mommy, or had had a stay at home hubby! Slate's Freaky Fortnight.