By Kyla Windley
I just want to preface this article by saying that I hate chocolate, but I absolutely love brownies. “You’re such an enigma,” some may say. I am aware of this! Chocolate is too rich for me, but brownies have a great texture, especially when they have that thin crusty film on the top. When you can see the small air pockets that formed in the batter as it rose in the oven, that’s how you know it’ll be good. That being said, I thought it would be interesting to try Death by Chocolate at Ricker Dining. People say it’s amazing, so even as a chocolate hater, I thought I should give it a try.
Shortly after leaving my dorm with two of my trustiest companions, a wave of panic rushed over me. Would I like Death by Chocolate? Would I become a chocolate lover? Would we get lost walking over to Ricker? We did get lost going to Ricker, actually (three times, to be exact). I’ve become an expert at U-turns. Tree Maps failed us.
We did finally found Ricker, and I couldn’t believe how beautiful the dining hall was. After walking around aimlessly for about a minute, marveling at the marginally better quality food, there it was, lo and behold: Death by Chocolate. Well, an empty pan with the remnants of Death by Chocolate. However, thanks to RD&E, someone noticed my distress and came with a new tray of Death by Chocolate.
When I saw it, I was immediately reminded of the cake that Ms. Trunchbull made Bruce eat in front of the entire school; big, chocolate-covered and moist to the point in which it would fall apart to the touch. To say I was intimidated is an understatement. In fact, it didn’t even look like a brownie or cake at first; rather, it looked like gallons of chocolate fondue poured over what one could only assume was cake or a brownie. Genuinely concerned by my body’s response to such a treat, I dug in with the serving spoon. The entire scoop’s worth of dessert fell into pieces as I carefully moved it from the spoon into my bowl.
Once I sat down, I thought to myself, “Wow, I wouldn’t even be mad if someone interpreted this as soil.” It was that moist. Scared as hell, I scooped up a small bite. When I ate it, an explosion of chocolatey richness invaded each and every one of my taste buds — if you like chocolate, this would be heaven. Since I do not like chocolate, I was sent into a panic. Need. Ice cream. Now. Luckily, even my friends who like chocolate had a similar reaction, so one of them got up to get ice cream for us to share as I nonverbally cried for their help.
Upon her return with a bowl of vanilla ice cream, I scooped some of it out and attempted to put it into my bowl. I was still in such a state of shock from my first bite of Death by Chocolate that I somehow managed to drop the ice cream on the six inches of space between the two bowls.
Mixed with the vanilla ice cream, Death by Chocolate tasted amazing. All of that chocolate is overwhelming, of course, and the heat led the ice cream to melt faster than I expected. I was only able to eat about three bites of the concoction before it was a lumpy brown soup. Moderately appalled at my Death by Chocolate’s current visual state, I threw it out (in the compost, of course!).
If you like chocolate, I’m sure that you’ll love Death by Chocolate. And if you’re worried about the calories, you’ll work it all off because Ricker is a million miles away.
Contact Kyla Windley at kwindley ‘at’ stanford.edu.