I was instantly smitten. When I came across this glorious confection in the online shop of Hudson Chocolates, I knew it had to be be mine. Or rather my husband's, as a tribute to the good work he is doing with our two beautful bee hives this year. Dark chocolate honeycomb dusted in lustrous edible gold dust. Inside, salted peanut honeycomb candy. So meta. The product of some inspired upstate Wonka whose fertile imagination led him where no chocolatier has gone before. Breaking off shards of this masterpiece has been a painful pleasure. It's hard to contribute to its demise but simply impossible to resist. Chunks of buttery peanuts are suspended in airy caramelized crunch. And all of it enrobed in smooth and complex dark chocolate whose hexagonal imprint and golden sheen perfectly evoke our own precious hives. When the occasion demands pampering, celebration and indulgence, call for this treat. Perhaps you should order one today and get the party started.*

Although there is often a bar of good quality chocolate on hand at our house (usually something from here, here or here), I don't often indulge. The cleanse I did earlier this spring really helped quell my sweet tooth; by the way, anyone interested in trying one of these cleanses with my health coach, now aptly retitled "restorations," can sign up for the upcoming summer session here. But something this extravagant can certainly capture my attention and my fancy, one sensuous bite at a time.

I try not to think of food as "good" or "bad." There are things I eat on a regular basis that feel nourishing and satisfying and things I eat less frequently in mofidied quantities that serve their own essential purpose. This is life in balance. And when I'm able to stop fretting and judging and second-guessing myself, how sweet it is.

*UPDATE: So close on the heels of this post, as of 6/17/14 Hudson Chocolates has shut its doors. The chocolatier, Francisco Migoya, is now in Washington working as head chef at the much-lauded Modernist Cuisine (read more about that here.) I consider myself doubly lucky to have sunk my teeth into one of the last iterations of his fabulous honeycomb.