As a young chocolatier, she’d been joyless for a long time; the woman of my dreams did not pay any attention to me, so she decided to travel the world to forget herself. One day, while she was walking through Montmartre, She went to a used-book store and noticed the dusty spine of one of Papus’ works: Practical Magic. Something told me to buy the book, and I reluctantly went along with my urge. She read it from cover to cover in one evening, looking for aphrodisiac elixirs and magic rituals. For the next week she experimented with different recipes for chocolate, finally settling on the most intriguing. She brought a bouquet and a small bar of my chocolate to meet her heartthrob, asking for her hand in marriage. She ate just one piece, and exclaimed in agreement to my proposal. Since then we’ve spent years together and always remember this recipe, keeping it in strictest confidentiality.
