Category Archives: Belgium

Gallivanting with Galler

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Last week the lovely people at Splendid Communications  invited me to go gallivanting with Galler at a chocolate tasting at Harrod’s. A group of keen foodie bloggers and Splendid representatives met at the concession for Galler, the luxury Belgian chocolatier founded in 1976 by Jean Galler (above) and the first chocolate company ever to be bestowed with the Belgian Royal Warrant.  

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Helen Heslop, Concession Manager, swiftly noted my interest in their Advent Calendar, explaining that the treats hidden behind each door were the Galler version of langues de chat, literally cat’s tongue, the classic French biscuit in a tongue shape. These langues de chat are not biscuits, however; they are confectionary shaped as cats poking out their tongues and they come in three types of chocolate – milk, dark or white. The advent calendar I was ogling, adorned in cute cat cartoons by bande dessinées illustrator, Philippe Geluck, contains milk chocolate langues de chat with a very special large praline-filled chocolate to be nibbled on the 24th.

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Mouths watering, Rafaella Baruzzo of Galler UK joined Helen to talk about the history of chocolate making before teaching us how to fully appreciate the different flavour notes of chocolate through a blind tasting of their wares. Dark tablets chopped into squares were handed around as we were instructed to savour the aroma and take note of how the chocolate snapped or crunched as we bit into it, pressing the chocolate against the upper palate with our tongues so that it melted, the flavour dispersing through the mouth. To fully taste chocolate, we should use all five senses.

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(Rafaella in action)

Each of the group had been given a list of what we should look out for when tasting each piece. How did the chocolate LOOK? Was it dark, matte, glossy? How did the chocolate SMELL? Did it crunch or snap when you bit into it? Was the texture smooth or crunchy? What were the flavours present?

The list of possible flavours reminded me of wine tastings where connoisseurs wax lyrical about apricot and honey notes. Our list was separated into groups featuring many different fruits and woodland tastes, from berries to pineapple and mushrooms to coffee. Then there was the group featuring cardboard and mud. I’m happy to say I didn’t have to refer to that one! It must be for the seriously gifted palates.

For each chocolate, we judged it from 1 to 10 according to different sense categories, plotting the results on a star chart, so that by the time we linked up the points, we’d created a web of our taste pattern. (These are currently being scanned for us so I may be able to post the image later, to help you understand what I’m trying to describe.) When we compared our webs at the end, it proved that every person’s taste is completely individual to them. One person’s sweet is another person’s sour. We were encouraged to always choose whichever chocolate variety is right for our palate.

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Having moved our way through a number of tablets of chocolate (not too calorific; only one small piece each!) and having guessed the cacao content of each, we started nibbling on ganaches from the Elementaires range. Each circle of chocolate is emblazoned with a tiny triple stripe and boasts a deliciously melting centre. The first we tried (from the Marines selection) was flavoured with sel de guerande, a type of revered French sea salt, but only lightly so. We weren’t told what the flavour was until after we’d consumed the chocolate, so our tastebuds were going mad trying to guess the secret ingredient. The next in the Elementaires selection was floral. Was it rose? or hibiscus? The flavour was familiar and Chris from Splendid already knew what it was, encouraging me to try harder. When we were told, I kicked myself. It was violet. Of course! It had tasted of grandmothers’ dressing tables, in a very good, nostalgic way.

galler-elementaires

The last part of the tasting involved long pencils of ganache with little bottles of additional flavour into which you could dip them. Inspired by Japanese calligraphy, this range is called Kaori, from a Japanese word meaning ‘perfume, scent and fragrance’. The pencils came in 6 flavours (saffron, cardamom, yuzu, ginger, vanilla & coconut, strawberry & balsamic) and the dips were threefold (kalamansi, matcha green tea and poppy seeds, orange and cocoa nibs), so that the possible combinations of taste adds up to a staggering 54. I enjoyed saffron with kalamansi and green tea and the ginger with orange and cocoa nibs, but that was just scratching the surface of possibility. Meanwhile, the Food Hall had emptied and we enjoyed the rare experience of being in Harrods when it isn’t heaving with shoppers.

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At the end of the evening, Galler gave each of us a little goodie bag with more Elementaires to try at home, and we trotted off in the rain to a nearby Knightsbridge pub to talk about chocolate, blogging, cooking and gaming, and many other seemingly unrelated subjects.

More importantly, if you like the sound of Galler, you can benefit from a 10% discount at their on-line store if you use this code: YQZ-JMW-N7Y. UK delivery takes 2-3 days with international to be confirmed on placement of order. If you want to benefit from this discount, then you have to order from this particular UK Galler site: http://www.gallerchocolates.co.uk/

For super-keen chocaholics I recommend you to visit the Galler UK Facebook page, where you can sign up for free samples, future events and competitions:

http://www.facebook.com/pages/Galler-Chocolate-UK/34079031442

For my Belgian readers, here’s the original site.

For the US contingent, here’s your version.

**Also worth noting are Galler’s lactose-free and diabetic-friendly chocolate options.

Epic eavesdropper in Brussels

 

 

It’s thanks to a stuffed horse that I overheard the following conversation. At the Roy d’Espagne pub in Brussels, there’s a horse by the bar (photo yet to be posted, but yes, it’s coming), an impressive example of large animal taxidermy (although how fine, I wouldn’t want to comment. When I saw the horse there were tufts of hair missing). I had to see the horse. It would be criminal to be in the same city as a bar with a famous stuffed horse and not pay my respects. So that’s how we found ourselves at the Roy d’Espagne sipping on Kriek and Hoegaarten in the afternoon sun.

At a  neighbouring table there was an American woman and her parents. From the great detail of her conversation with them, I was able to deduce that she lives in Paris, her parents live on the East Coast of the States, they were visiting for a few weeks and this was a weekend excursion. I couldn’t talk to Monsieur at all while she was there. The things that American Woman said fascinated and horrified me beyond being able to speak myself.

“You know how I’ve changed my psychiatrist. Didn’t I tell you? Yeah, well, I have. So, anyway, I have my appointment with the new psychiatrist on Tuesday at 4.15, then on Wednesday I have my swimming at 3.30. On Thursday there’s nothing. It’s a holiday.”

Did I mention she displayed no physical signs of needing oxygen to survive? Superhuman, this one.  

“On Friday I’m going to a new dermatologist and then to see my new doctor,”

Verging on the hypochondriac, apparently… 

“but then I’ve made reservations for Marie Antoinette at 11.30 so you just go straight there and I’ll meet you as soon as I can after my doctor’s appointment. Okay? And then we can have lunch. If the weather’s nice we can lunch at the museum. They have a really cute brasserie with a terrace, but if it’s not nice then I know a place just around the corner so that’ll be fine. It just all depends on the weather really.”

I was getting tired listening to her schedule and started to wonder what kind of work she did that allowed her so much flexibility for appointments.

“On the last Tuesday we’ll all have lunch at the Bastille. It’ll be really nice. But remember that guy I told you about, the one that just moved here from the New York office? Yeah, well I have a lunch with him next week, too, and I just think it’s better if you don’t come to that one cos you know what it’s like? One day he’s in Tokyo and then I’m in Thailand and we’ve been trying to have lunch for sooo long and he says he’d like to meet you but I’m just not sure it’d work. You know?”

Even the parents were starting to glaze over by now. They hardly spoke. There was no point. Their daughter was doing enough speaking for all three of them. Finally, the mother dared to ask a question.

“How about we go shopping on Thursday, then?”

“No, no, no, Mom. I told you. Thursday’s a holiday. Everything will be closed.”

“Well, what about a manicure?”

“Oh, I hadn’t thought of that. Yeah, okay. Most of the Chinese girls will probably be working that day.”

(I guess in Paris a lot of manicurists must be Chinese. Fascinating what you learn when you hear conversations like this.)

Mother  pipes up again.

“So tell me, what’s your dress like.”

“Well, it’s white. They had two colours, actually: grey or white. The grey’s more practical cos it won’t show up stains so much but I got the white cos it suits me better, even though I just know I’ll spill something on it like the second or third time I wear it and then it’ll be ruined, but at least it looks good.”

I couldn’t resist. I had to sneak a peek at this point. There she was: American Woman. She was wearing a short skirt, showing off her long, tan legs that would be better suited to life on a tennis court than sitting around outside a pub with a dead horse inside it. Her long, thick hair had weekly appointments at worst. She was a little bit freckly in a nice way and no, she didn’t wear anything on her ring finger. From what I was hearing, American Woman would need to settle down with a deaf millionaire with excellent health cover.

Mom speaks again.

“So how ’bout we go shopping on a Saturday.”

“No, Mom.” This was said with a very impatient drawl. “I’m allergic to shopping on a Saturday. I just can’t stand the crowds.”

I looked across at Mom, who’d just travelled half-way around the world to see her daughter, only to be told that everything she suggests is impossible or won’t fit in with existing plans. My heart sank. How on earth does such a pain-in-the-ass develop? Perhaps we can blame her old shrink? I’m so relieved she has a new one.

 

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