I don’t generally use this blog to slag products or businesses. My mother’s angelic form tends to be perched on my shoulder, reminding me “If you can’t say something nice….” And I know a bad review can hurt a small business, so I try to be kind—or, at least, silent.
But when it comes to a giant like famous chocolate maker Ghirardelli, the gloves come off.
On a recent trip to San Francisco, I visited Ghirardelli Square, the 1893 headquarters of the chocolate company. It’s a pleasant place that is, according their website, “considered the first successful adaptive reuse project in the country.” It’s on the National Historic Register. There are pricey shops and places to sit and play. All good.
It’s also home to the original Ghirardelli ice cream and chocolate shop, where they scoop notoriously decadent hot fudge sundaes. Yum. For a chocolate worshipper such as myself, a pilgrimage was definitely called for.
Sadly, the experience was a disappointment from beginning to end. You start by standing in line to order and pay at a busy and indifferent cashier. No smile or greeting sets the tone for your visit. State your choice, hand over the cash (ka-ching: Cdn$18!) and move on through, clutching a number.
Now you must find a place to sit. Although it is a weekday afternoon, the cafe is jammed with people. All tables in sight are claimed and there is no one to help you locate a seat. Hmm…perhaps if one knew that before ordering, one would demur. But, of course, now you’ve paid, you’re on the hook.
My companion and I wander through into what appears to be the party room, as it’s a screaming, chaotic space of bouncing children at a ratio of ten to each harassed adult guardian. Ah, but there’s a table! Grab it with relief.
As we wait for our order, I am reminded of the stanza in Dr. Seuss’s How the Grinch Stole Christmas:
All the Who girls and boys
Would wake bright and early. They’d rush for their toys!
And then! Oh, the noise! Oh, the Noise! Noise! Noise! Noise!
The sound level is deafening. I watch the servers moving between the tables, searching for those identifying numbers, carrying ice cream creations that are supposed to be finely balanced combinations of hot and cold ingredients. But the longer it takes for them to find you, the slushier your sundae will be. I knew America prides itself on being a melting pot, but this is ridiculous.
I observe that about 95% of the diners are white, while 95% of the servers are not. I wonder if the white kids will grow up thinking brown people serve.
At last! My sundae has arrived, somewhat liquidy. Another literary tidbit leaps to mind, referring to Boxer the horse from Orwell’s Animal Farm: “His answer to every problem, every setback, was ‘I will work harder!’”
Or, as in the current crisis: “I will eat faster!”
Within a few bites, the hot fudge is exhausted, leaving a naked mound of plain vanilla ice cream to finish. After all that I’ve gone through—not to mention the $18 price tag—I expected a superlative treat. This was a true letdown.
I know, I know: first-world problems, right?
My excuse for whining is that I want to save others from what I see as a ripoff. Personally, I won’t be buying another Ghirardelli sundae. And I don’t think their chocolate is so special, either.
PS If you want a better hot fudge sundae, try this time-tested recipe from our kitchen:
250 ml half-and-half (about 10% milk fat) cream
300 g semi-sweet pure chocolate chips (we use Chipits)
1 tbsp corn syrup (optional; we use white corn syrup)
Place all ingredients in the top part of a double boiler with an inch of lightly simmering water in the bottom. Slowly melt and stir until sauce is smooth and thick. Do not overheat or the sauce will seize.
Pour over good-quality vanilla ice cream; add peanuts, bananas, whipped cream, and a cherry, if desired.
Tired of blogs about chocolate? I’ll try to find another topic. Meanwhile, let me know what you think about Ghirardelli’s products. Do you stand with me or agin me?