I love Godiva. I have since I was quite young, maybe 9 or 10. My mom worked for Vlasic Pickles in Farmington Hills, Michigan (shout out!), which was owned by Campbell’s Soup. Godiva and Pepperidge Farm cookies were also part of the brand at that time. She was always bringing home samples to try of new products from all four companies. In fact, she volunteered her time as a taste tester, just to get the free samples. She also stole those little creamers from every restaurant she every entered even though she took her coffee black, but that’s another story.

Once she brought home three enormous black garbage bags full of Godiva chocolates. FULL! Apparently, the company does not like it when a little squiggle of chocolate on the top goes astray. Instead of throwing them out, they offered them to whatever staff was on hand. My mom, of course, snatched them up. My sister and I munched on them like they were popcorn. The bags lasted a whole winter. Yes, there was THAT much. By the time the treats were gone, we were hooked. And, unfortunately for me (and my waistline), I was now ruined for other chocolate. Doomed to live a life of chocolate snobbery.

I can no longer eat a plain chocolate bar. No cheap candy bar will satisfy my sweet tooth. It has to be Godiva. Just the site of that gold box gets me excited. Truffles. Caramels. Milk chocolate or dark. Raspberry-filled bars. I have no preference; it’s all good, as long as it’s Godiva.