balls, the follow-up

Remember when I mused about what chocolate balls named after a famous breed of horses would taste like? Well, now I know. Last Saturday I bought a box of them to take to Paris with me as as joke for the friends we're visiting next weekend (Mozartkugeln alone for exiled Austrians are getting a bit boring, in Mozart Year particularly) and 10 loose ones to try and share with the Viennese chocoholics-HQ. A single one actually satisfied my curiosity once and for all. No morsel of dark chocolate in sight, only sickeningly sweet marzipan, covered in even sweeter white chocolate with a hint of - yep, you guessed it, nauseatingly sweet nougat. Hm, perhaps the name is apt, after all. No competition for our jubilee-boy, W. A. Mozart's balls anyway.

Lunch-break purchases: None as I escaped from the slush on the pavements and looming rooftop-avalanches to Café Central where I spent the greater part of my lunch-break with TD before I stocked up on rucola (the nice - and expensive - variety from MamG).