‘The stairs down to the back are proper house’, says Chris, as we feel our way through the leafy garden towards a vacant table. Sometimes an aimless wander really works out, we say to ourselves, for our being here is no less than chance in the purest form, chance in its manifest self-representation of ontological continuity, authentic chance of the best kind. After trekking down the mathematical perpendicular roads of Belgravia we came across the welcoming decor outside Rococo. And there I did say to Chris ‘Yay, let us stop here, for our journey is long and our legs are tired.’ And he did reply, ‘Indeed, for thouest travel far and here we can replenish with the fruits of caffeine and bitesize chocolates.’
For Rococo is a chocolatier, no less, and when you enter your eyes are greeted with a kaleidoscope of tiny chocolates on shelves, curated into the large homey room with its few scattered tables and two different counters (one of which boasts tasty-looking cigars).
It’s the Jubilee at the moment, and Union Jacks are knocking about, flapping about and otherwise making themselves known. In the distance, over the walls that look over us like towering protective guards, provocative chanting resounds. A subtle eavesdrop into the conversation on the other table reveals that it is a protest at the Syrian Embassy. Apart from that a hedge trimmer grates away somewhere nearby. I hope that it doesn’t belong to the police, as they inevitably bear down on the protesters with fire in their eyes.
But here in the garden such things are unthinkable, for we sit in an oasis shielded from the real world, amongst pots of thyme and rogue unhinged doors leaning against the garden walls. The young woman who serves us couldn’t be friendlier. This friendliness materialises in the form of free chocolates with our coffee. Now that’s a good way to make a Jammatologist happy. The coffee is good, black as night and not too demanding, but there’s no brown sugar. We head back into the chocolate jungle to listen to Soft Cell, Spandau Ballet and Dexy’s Midnight Runners.
Chris’ Final Thought
I stand before a plethora of delights, trying to decide what to have amongst this cabinet of curiosities. Some of these chocolates are delightfully curious indeed, their flavours ranging from basil and lime to green tea combinations. I’m excited about these components working together within the realm of chocolate, and even more so by the sheer beauty of some of them. I find decision making difficult at the best of times, let alone when faced with such an aesthetically pleasing variety such as this. My eyes run over the various names and I finally settle on a ‘geranium cream.’ With the chocolate on my palm my feelings betray me to that cliché of a kid in a candy store, I take a bite and its floral cream filling exudes something unknown yet so very lovely. It is a taste akin to the Turkish Delight, and I find myself consumed in the act of consuming this small artefact. This could get dangerous, I want to try another one, and I will no doubt want to try a different flavour after that. They’ve got white chocolates that look exactly like new potatoes over there, adorned with crystallised mint leaves no less. I must return soon.