The Prudential Center says this about Truffles Fine Confections: "Truffles specializes in handmade chocolates and gourmet candies. They are dedicated to the ultimate in taste, quality, and freshness." Let's test that theory, shall we? Having entered the waters of confection last week with Burdick Chocolate, I plan to embark on a weeklong candy jag that I started today by snuffling around Copley Square for high volumes of sugar.
At first glance, the little candy shop inside the Prudential center looked to be packed with truffles, dipped fruit, fudge, and towers of candy. Showing unusual restraint, I picked out a single salt truffle, a chocolate covered slice of peach, and a square of peppermint fudge. The cranky man at the counter seemed to take some glee in informing me that I was about to be hosed for 10 bucks, as he handed over what could not be more than 3 ounces of candy. Still, I held out hope that I was paying ten dollars for what would be the most outrageous piece of fudge I'd ever eaten.
You see, fudge is a bit of a thing with me. I adore the smooth, luscious interior and the sugar crusted exterior. Having failed spectacularly at making even the simplest form of fudge (anything that involves a candy thermometer is a doomed effort in my kitchen), I admire those who can turn out glorious tablets of waxy chocolate goodness. And, on the side, I am a huge fan of peppermint bark. So it was with much anticipation that I sat down a while later and pulled out my goodies.
The peach was acceptable. Chewy and sweet with a chocolate cover that could be considered decent in some circles (read: better than Hersheys). The truffle was very, very salty, and the chocolate was unremarkable...it didn't offend, but neither did it impress, and that is a crime, as far as I am concerned, when I have just laid down a good deal of cash. The free truffle sample a door down at Godiva practically sported wings and a halo compared to the wad of mediocrity from Truffles.
But that aside, I decided to take out the piece de resistance, the fudge, with a fresh eye. All would be forgiven if the fudge delivered. Now, as mentioned, one hopes for a soft, smooth texture when it comes to fudge, but as I took the square out of the bag, my fingers detected no noticeable give in the chocolate. In fact, as I became more alarmed and poked at it, there seemed to be a distinct hardness to the exterior. Perhaps it was really, really gooey inside and the outside was supposed to be like that? I attempted to break off a piece and was met with...something the texture and hardness of the devil's hoof. That's right, I couldn't break a piece off. I gnawed at it with my teeth and was only modestly successful at detaching a shard of it. Growing more distressed, I held it by one corner and banged it against the table, only to hear the sound of a hammer hitting a nail. A metallic clang. It was fossilized. I might as well have spent my ten dollars on a cast iron pan and tried to gnaw at it. My eyes goggled, my brow furrowed, my nostrils flared. Burned like a fool on "fresh" fudge that had clearly been sitting in that case for the worse side of three months (since Christmas, I'd wager). Even if I was in gross error, and these were supposed to be squares of chocolate bars rather than fudge, I defy you to tell me that you should be able to bang a chocolate item against the table and have it reverberate like an ice pick. Had I been thinking, I would've taken it home and wedged it under the corner of my microwave that has been rattling lately. Sadly, I hummed "Another one bites the dust" and chucked it in the trash.
And that, dear readers, is all I will say on the many reasons you should light your cash on fire and warm your hands over it before you part with a single clam, buckaroo, or shilling at Truffles Confections.
But let's part on a positive note. Shortly to follow will be a review of the Godiva store, and in the meantime, here is a little eye candy from the Williams Sonoma at Copley, where the Easter candy is already out.