Kakor Chokladflarn

This is not a wine post.
This is a warning.*

Kakor Chokladflarn. Dwarvish for a portal to the underworld? C.S. Lewis! how your tales would have doubled in colour and depth if only Ikea had been such a provider of monikers then as it is today.

Kakor Chokladflarn. No, not a portal, but a doorway nonetheless to a hollow part inside of me, between my right knee and my kidney, that can contain myriad delectable chocolate crisp after delectable chocolate crisp. For Kakor Chokladflarn is not a name coined in the dark years before fire, before warmth, where dwarvish men found comfort eating nits from each others' beards. It is a name devised to define a confection, a double chocolate crisp, produced in Swedish factories. So clean, so white they must be; so knowing.  So all-Sauron-seeing that it, the factory itself, as though propelled by a purpose more hidden, more born of demonic subterfuge, knows that out there there is a soul who, upon opening the innocent package, will simply EAT the chocolate crisps, unstopping, uncaring, unguided. Derailed from the straight lines of morality and conscientiousness, moved to abandon the most basic dessert laws, such a soul finds itself now, at this very moment, 5 crisps in and clawing at his eyes, the carton, his eyes again, defying himself in full knowledge of the futility of doing so to not eat another.

Oh Kakor Chokladflarn. I see now why the Dwarvish never dared to put a word to your particular evil. 

*Brought to you by Terra Andina Chardonnay, Central Valley, Chile, 2010