Guest Author - Deborah Markus

I was a little startled when my husband presented me, on returning home from a business trip to Chicago, with a selection of bars from a company called Vosges Haut-Chocolat. Not that his giving me a gift of chocolate after a brief parting was surprising. Nor was I shocked to learn that there was a chocolate company I hadn't known about, since I think it's good news that the world of chocolate is a wide one.

No, what startled me was that one of the bars he gave me -- the largest one, in fact -- was a flavor combination I'd never heard of, never dreamed of, and wouldn't have thought up if you'd made me sit down and ponder all the potential chocolate + special ingredient possibilities in the known universe. I could have thought up fifty, easily, and never have even considered pairing milk chocolate and bacon.

As chocolate becomes ever more popular, and as there seems to be more good news about its health benefits every day, manufacturers are in an increasingly ferocious competition for customers. If they can't give you the chocolate you grew up with, and obviously most of them can't, they have to work extra hard to lure you away from your old favorite.

There are ways and ways of doing this. They can try simply saying that their product is very very good, and then attempt to live up to their boasts. They can be "good" in the sense of virtuous -- fair trade, organic, vegetarian, vegan, sugar-free. Or they can offer up something so new and even outlandish that customers may take the bait out of sheer curiosity.

This last option is getting very common. I can't open my car door without whacking a bar of some bizarrity like cheddar-cheese chocolate (no, I haven't actually heard of or tried that one, but I'm sure it's only a matter of time). Sure, novelty chocolate is a gimmick, but gimmicks work. That's why people use them.

All of which must sound as if it's leading up to a most unfavorable review. But the only thing that surprised me more than getting a bar of bacon-chocolate was trying it (yes, I'll try almost anything chocolate) and liking it. Really liking it.

Putting bacon and chocolate together isn't as odd an idea as it seems. Years ago, I tried my first chocolate-covered potato chips and fairly swooned in delight. Chocolate and salty, crunchy savories go beautifully together, as anyone can attest who's tried chocolate-covered pretzels or nuts.

Mo's Bacon Bar, as this delicacy is named, is worth getting for the wrapper alone, which tells the whole origin story. And by wrapper, I mean attractive and sturdy matte cardboard box. You could prop it up at the table and read it as you eat, just like you used to do with your cold cereal in the morning.

The woman who grew up to design this bar used to have chocolate-chip pancakes with a side of bacon for breakfast when she was a child. The bacon was too salty by itself, and needed the sweetness of the accompanying cakes.

Just to bring that childhood contrast across, the manufacturers threw in a bit of extra salt with the bacon, and wrapped it all in sweet, firm milk chocolate. As you eat, your taste buds have a pleasant running argument as to which flavor you ought to be focusing on. "Ooh, salty. Need a little sweet to take the edge off, here -- aah, chocolate. Sweet. Little too sweet, all by itself. Where's the bacon? Mmm, salty -- wait, too salty. Chocolate! Quick! Good, good -- now just a bit more bacon."

And so on, until you're startled to find that half the bar is gone and you think blearily that you'd really better jog an extra couple of miles today, assuming you can ever stand up again. Which you're not at all sure you'll be able to manage, so maybe you'll just nibble one tiny corner more...