From Publishers Weekly
Did the Aztecs discover chocolate? Do the Swiss make the world's best chocolate? Is Godiva chocolate worth its price? No, no and no, according to Francophilic foodie Rosenblum (Olives). Although he'd always considered himself a "chocolate ignoramus," after attending a fancy Parisian chocolate tasting he immerses himself in the world of professional chocolatiers. He researches texts on the history of chocolate for amusing anecdotes, but his forte is his knack for going out in the field and talking with the masters. Rosenblum lets the artists teach him how great chocolate is made and how to appreciate its qualities. He travels from the cacao growing fields of Ivory Coast to the kitchens of some of Mexico's finest chefs, from the refined workshops of Paris to the factories of Hershey, Pa. As he discovers, chocolates—candy bars, chocolate mints—are basically an industrial product, containing little cacao and unworthy of serious culinary interest. Real chocolate, however, like fine wine, can be absolutely sublime. Artisans who carefully select their cacao beans and process those beans with painstaking attention can craft exquisite chocolate with extremely complex aromas and flavors. Rosenblum's chatty book, which lacks an index or endnotes, may disappoint food researchers. But for that vast world of chocolate-lovers who'd like a book between their bars, this bonbon is sure to please. Line drawings. Copyright © Reed Business Information, a division of Reed Elsevier Inc. All rights reserved.


From The Washington Post's Book World/washingtonpost.com
Chocolate, like wine, inspires verbiage. Through the years this unlikely-looking substance has attained connoisseurial status, attracting legions of gourmets who find its rich, dark and unfathomably complex flavors a source of lasting fascination. Today's serious chocolate lover will not be content with merely a box of branded high-end chocolates; she will want to know the exact percentage of cacao beans in the mix, where the beans were sourced (single-estate chocolate is the latest fashion) and -- if the chocolate is handmade -- the name of the artiste who created it. Godiva is out, Valrhona (a French company that until recently supplied only to French chefs) is in.And like wine, chocolate has inspired an armory of descriptive adjectives, with the earnest taster detecting "notes" of woodsmoke, mushrooms, wild berries, leather and coffee. For the record, there is something in this: In terms of flavor and scent, a piece of chocolate is considerably more complex than a glass of red wine. Yet it is notoriously difficult to identify the component parts of chocolate, let alone relate them to variables of production such as climate, topography and soil content -- the terroir, in wine-speak -- because in almost all cases that information is simply not known. As a result, writing on chocolate frequently descends into a kind of lustful enthusiasm dressed up as gastronomic objectivity. One of the strengths of this entertaining book is that the author, Mort Rosenblum -- an ex-editor of the International Herald Tribune -- follows journalistic instinct by taking the part of the general reader instead of lording over us as an expert. This is not a history of chocolate -- indeed, straight history is its weakest element -- but a series of vignettes in which we travel the globe meeting a wide variety of characters who are deeply immersed in chocolate (in a manner of speaking). The chapters read like a series of magazine articles or personality profiles, filled with quotes, and range from the riveting to the workaday.Although there are numerous paeans to the delights of fine (French) chocolate scattered throughout, the best passages of the book deal with pressing political or commercial concerns: One has the distinct impression that the author's natural habitat is the newsroom. The chapter on the issue of child slavery in the snake-infested cacao plantations in Ivory Coast (whence comes 40 percent of the world's cacao) is based on numerous interviews -- or non-interviews, as nervous politicians fled -- and two visits to West Africa itself. The author's conclusion -- that the problem is exaggerated -- may be controversial or even unpalatable, but it is at least based on sound research and first-hand experience.Of less serious import, but treated with equal rigor, is the unintentionally amusing pretension of chocolate-maker Valrhona, where quality of product is matched only by the pomposity (or hauteur) of its executives. Foreign chocolate-makers line up to protest the company's patronizing, dismissive attitudes toward them (Americans are, predictably, beneath contempt), with the company apparently deigning to supply their wares only if the recipient is deemed worthy of them. It is all the more frustrating that everyone agrees that Valrhona is still the best in its field, with an "almost mythical cachet." Nevertheless, Rosenblum tells with evident glee the tale of Alessio Tessieri, an Italian chocolate maker who visited the Valrhona factory in 1991 with his mother and sister. Incensed at Valrhona's dismissive attitude toward them -- "They told us they did not think Italians were ready for their products" -- Tessieri immediately went into business as a competitor and recently scored a triumph when he managed to secure stocks of cacao beans from the tiny Venezuelan plantation of Chuao, accessible only by boat. This fabled supply had hitherto been the preserve of Valrhona alone, and Tessieri's coup apparently hit them hard. The tale of a little man triumphing against Gallic haughtiness stands out because the main thrust of this book is very much in favor of all things French, with Parisian chocolate consistently hailed as the finest in the world. It is here that Rosenblum's journalistic objectivity falters. The author lives on a houseboat on the Seine, and one has the sense that he is happy to play the role of the enthusiastic, over-respectful American in Paris -- one can almost see him hovering obsequiously in the kitchens of uncompromising French chocolatiers, grateful for any morsel, chocolaty or verbal, they deign to throw in his direction. Early in the book there is a wonderful description of a visit to the "guerrilla factory" of chain-smoking rebel chocolatier Jacques Genin, hidden behind a battered white door in "the dingy back end of the 15th arrondissement." But this is followed at intervals through the book by less interesting descriptions of other French chocolatiers, and it gets repetitive. The chapters on Belgian, Swiss and British chocolate seem to be there simply to demonstrate the superiority of the French product, and while Rosenblum pays lip service to the fact that one's chocolate tastes are formed by upbringing -- that a liking for a Hershey Bar is as valid as a craving for handmade Parisian chocolate -- he cannot resist trashing other people's, and whole nations', preferences. (Britain comes in for a particularly intemperate mauling here.) Now it so happens that I agree with him about French chocolate being the best in the world, but his uncritical certainty makes Chocolate read at times like something produced for the French chocolate-marketing association. Finally, all of this connoisseurial appreciation leaves a crucial question unanswered: Is it possible to like cheap chocolate as well as the fine, handmade article? I think it is, but Parisian chocolatiers and their cheerleaders do not. Rosenblum claims to like Hershey's Kisses, but I am afraid I cannot quite believe him on this point; chocolate is repeatedly described as candle wax, and he spends a whole chapter attacking Godiva chocolate -- "Belgian" but U.S.-made -- which one of his French chocolate gurus described as redolent of "overfilled ashtray." This distaste for mass-produced chocolate makes the ostensibly patriotic chapter on Hershey read somewhat awkwardly. In fact, Rosenblum scrupulously avoids attacking American brands such as Ghirardelli even while he criticizes the quality of comparable European makes. Is this blind patriotism or fear of a critical backlash in the home country? Either way, it smacks of epicurean cowardice.As one snooty French chocolatier puts it, "Tout ça, c'est ne pas du chocolat. C'est de la confiserie." ("All that isn't chocolate. It's candy.") That may be the opinion in the rarefied circles of Paris, but for me -- and I suspect for many others -- while I can enjoy and appreciate the expensive article when the time is right, for an everyday chocolate fix, "candy" is just fine. Reviewed by Tim Richardson Copyright 2005, The Washington Post Co. All Rights Reserved.


From Bookmarks Magazine
Rosenblum trades the focus of his James Beard award-winning Olives for a newer, sweeter obsession. His experience as a newspaperman (Rosenblum is the former editor for the International Herald Tribune and a former Associated Press reporter) bears fruit in the strong source material he tracks down in far-flung locales. If his prose is weakened by newsroom clichés, it is at least “clean and consistent” enough to tell a satisfying story (Newsday). Like any devotee, Rosenblum has his favorites, and while the critics concede that French chocolate may be the best, many are put off by the author’s blind devotion to it. Like its subject matter, Chocolate is a book that aims to please, and should drive anyone with a sweet tooth into the candy shop.Copyright © 2004 Phillips & Nelson Media, Inc.


From Booklist
*Starred Review* No one particular food substance seems to evoke as much passion as chocolate, that ingredient discovered about the same time as America. Yet, as Rosenblum reveals, every country or continent has a claim to theobroma cacao. He unveils chocolate's history and its various incarnations, including in his fresh and insightful discussions the origins of mole; the differences between, say, Hershey's kisses and Valrhona's products; the invention of Nutella; and the small boutique chocolate artisans found nearly everywhere. Such intriguing characters as the CEO of Godiva, the entrepreneurs behind Scharffenberger, and Chloe, the one-and-only chocolate taster at Fortnum & Mason, are introduced. Some less-happy tales are also brought to light, including the reputed forced child slavery in Ivory Coast cacao plantations. Sprinkled throughout are amazing statistics: chocolate is a $60 billion industry; 12 percent of Nestle's annual sales are attributed to chocolate; a dozen beneficial biogenic amines are found in it. In the end, Rosenblum admits (though he voices distinct preferences) that it is up to each individual to answer the two chocolate questions: What do you like? What else have you tried? A compelling and tasty read. Barbara Jacobs
Copyright © American Library Association. All rights reserved


Review
Praise for Olives: The Life and Lore of a Noble Frui:t

"Edifying...Pit by pit, his savory details add up." --Christopher Lehmann-Haupt, The New York Times

"Delicious...A blend of first-rate travel writing and first-rate food writing." --Michael Pakenham, The Baltimore Sun

"Filled with history, lore, scandal, gossip, politics, recipes, health tips, and even Mafia intrigue, Olives is as perceptive as it is passionate." --Patricia Wells, author of Bistro Cooking and Trattoria

"Rosenblum writes with skill and passion. His enthusiasm is contagious when it comes to olive-related legend, lore, and anecdote." --Pauline Mayer, The Cleveland Plain Dealer

Praise for A Goose in Toulouse and Other Culinary Adventures in France:

"A rollicking roll through the heart, myth, soul---and belly---of the land of 'Bon Appetit,' a century after Escoffier. More, please."--Molly O'Neill, The New York Times Magazine

"Scholarly, spritely, and mouth-watering." --Diane Johnson, author of Le Divorce



Book Description
A delectable journey into the world of chocolate--from manufacturing to marketing, French boutiques to American multinationals--by the award-winning author of Olives.

Science, over recent years, has confirmed what chocolate lovers have always known: the stuff is actually good for you. It's the Valentine's Day drug of choice, has more antioxidants than red wine, and triggers the same brain responses as falling in love. Nothing, in the end, can stand up to chocolate as a basic fundament to human life.

In this scintillating narrative, acclaimed foodie Mort Rosenblum delves into the complex world of chocolate. From the mole poblano--chile-laced chicken with chocolate--of ancient Mexico to the contemporary French chocolatiers who produce the palets d'or--bite-sized, gold-flecked bricks of dark chocolate--to the vast empires of Hershey, Godiva, and Valrhona, Rosenblum follows the chocolate trail the world over. He visits cacao plantations, meets with growers, buyers, makers, and tasters, and investigates the dark side of the chocolate trade as well as the enduring appeal of its product.

Engaging, entertaining, and revealing, Chocolate: A Bittersweet Saga of Dark and Light is a fascinating foray into this "food of the gods."



About the Author
Mort Rosenblum is a special correspondent to the Associated Press, and a former editor of the International Herald Tribune. He is the author of, most recently, Olives (FSG, 1996). He lives in Paris.

FROM THE PUBLISHER

In this narrative, Mort Rosenblum delves into the mysteries of cacao: its history, its legends and lore, the processes that make chocolate. Rosenblum follows the chocolate trail, cooking up mole poblano - chili-laced chicken with chocolate - under a Mexican volcano; visiting plantations during an African rebellion; helping French master chocolatiers make palets d'or - bite-size, gold-flecked bricks of dark chocolate. He probes the empires of Hershey and Godiva, and the closed-door realm of Valrhona. He watches at each step as humble cacao pods on spindly trees in dank jungles end up as creamy mousse au chocolat. He meets with buyers and tasters in the United States and across Europe to discover the diverse trends, demands, and traditions of chocolate lovers. And, along the way, he investigates the bitter fights and rivalries - the dark side of the chocolate trade.

FROM THE CRITICS

Publishers Weekly

Did the Aztecs discover chocolate? Do the Swiss make the world's best chocolate? Is Godiva chocolate worth its price? No, no and no, according to Francophilic foodie Rosenblum (Olives). Although he'd always considered himself a "chocolate ignoramus," after attending a fancy Parisian chocolate tasting he immerses himself in the world of professional chocolatiers. He researches texts on the history of chocolate for amusing anecdotes, but his forte is his knack for going out in the field and talking with the masters. Rosenblum lets the artists teach him how great chocolate is made and how to appreciate its qualities. He travels from the cacao growing fields of Ivory Coast to the kitchens of some of Mexico's finest chefs, from the refined workshops of Paris to the factories of Hershey, Pa. As he discovers, chocolates-candy bars, chocolate mints-are basically an industrial product, containing little cacao and unworthy of serious culinary interest. Real chocolate, however, like fine wine, can be absolutely sublime. Artisans who carefully select their cacao beans and process those beans with painstaking attention can craft exquisite chocolate with extremely complex aromas and flavors. Rosenblum's chatty book, which lacks an index or endnotes, may disappoint food researchers. But for that vast world of chocolate-lovers who'd like a book between their bars, this bonbon is sure to please. Line drawings. Agent, Geri Thoma. (Feb.) Forecast: This treat of a book could be a nice Valentine's Day seller. Copyright 2004 Reed Business Information.

Library Journal

This is the literary equivalent of a perfect palet d'or, the Bentley of dark chocolates, with each chapter offering a subtle, complex treat worth savoring. Winner of the James Beard Award for Olives, Rosenblum applies his journalistic tenacity and eye for detail to uncover the multilayered world of chocolate. Placing in-depth profiles of chocolate growers, buyers, producers, and consumers against a complex backdrop of social, cultural, political, and economic forces, Rosenblum circles the globe to find homemade mole sauce in Mexico, hobnob with world-renowned purveyors of chocolate in France and Belgium, and visit the planned community of Hershey, PA. Recommended for all public libraries, as well as academic libraries supporting large undergraduate populations, programs in nutrition, and the culinary arts or with interests in the social and cultural history of food.-Courtney Greene, DePaul Univ., Chicago Copyright 2005 Reed Business Information.

Kirkus Reviews