A few days ago, I miraculously got my hands on some original Dubai chocolate. A friend happens to live there, and his girlfriend kindly brought me a bar while she was in town. “Tell me what you think,” he texted me, “but I believe you and I will agree.”
Based on what you can see on social media, you’d think the chocolate was filled with liquid gold. The product gets hundreds of millions of views. Knockoffs abound around the globe. Even in Germany, I already saw Dubai crêpes, Dubai cake, and Dubai donuts. One person tried to smuggle 45 kilograms into the country.
So how does it taste? It’s good. Very good, even. But it’s still chocolate—with pistachio and some crunchy bits inside, sure. But “just” chocolate nonetheless. Maybe that’s the spoiled German in me, who’s used to Milka, Kinder products, and the likes of Lindt and Läderach from Switzerland. But like my friend suggested, we agreed: It’s cool, but not the-world-must-lose-its-head-cool.
There is, however, one reason why I enjoyed the chocolate more than any ordinary bar: It was a gift from my friend. I did not expect it, yet one Sunday, I sat there, holding it in my hand. It’s the kind of magic even 100 million views can’t work—but that, unlike those views, lingers long after the masses and the taste of the chocolate have gone.
Perhaps, instead of wondering, “Which chocolate should I eat next?” we should try a different question: “Whom do I want to gift the next bar to?