Some things are just meant to be together.
Bourbon and burgers. Simon and Garfunkel. Cougars and steakhouse bars.
But every once in a while, you come across an amalgamation so obvious, so necessary, that immediate action is required.
We’re talking, naturally, about Pop Rocks and chocolate.
Introducing Firecracker Chocolate, a chipotle, salt and Pop Rocks-infused chocolate bar, now available online.
If Willy Wonka and MacGruber got together and decided it was time to make some magic, the end result would most likely resemble this beast of a bar. While this may or may not be the most appropriate grand finale to a five-course soiree, it does happen to be the perfect accompaniment for a long hike (the first candy bar that might actually repel a bear), an unexpected crash at the office (mouth explosions trump coffee anytime) or anything involving silence, concentration and sports teams you don’t like.
The experience will go down like this. You bite in. At first, it tastes like a normal candy bar, nothing to see here. Then comes the popping—that familiar sizzle normally reserved for Little League fields and epic recess tetherball matches. Then, finally, as you swallow, a predominant salsa taste hits you from the chipotle, and you are now whole.
Or at least enlightened.
Bourbon and burgers. Simon and Garfunkel. Cougars and steakhouse bars.
But every once in a while, you come across an amalgamation so obvious, so necessary, that immediate action is required.
We’re talking, naturally, about Pop Rocks and chocolate.
Introducing Firecracker Chocolate, a chipotle, salt and Pop Rocks-infused chocolate bar, now available online.
If Willy Wonka and MacGruber got together and decided it was time to make some magic, the end result would most likely resemble this beast of a bar. While this may or may not be the most appropriate grand finale to a five-course soiree, it does happen to be the perfect accompaniment for a long hike (the first candy bar that might actually repel a bear), an unexpected crash at the office (mouth explosions trump coffee anytime) or anything involving silence, concentration and sports teams you don’t like.
The experience will go down like this. You bite in. At first, it tastes like a normal candy bar, nothing to see here. Then comes the popping—that familiar sizzle normally reserved for Little League fields and epic recess tetherball matches. Then, finally, as you swallow, a predominant salsa taste hits you from the chipotle, and you are now whole.
Or at least enlightened.