A Chocolate Splinter--martyr for trying to boil chocolate alive

People get splinters from metal shavings. People also get splinters from wood. Heck, people even get splinters from shrapnal while at war. Me? Jenna gets a chocolate splinter. How hardcore am I?

I forgot to mention to you in my last post that I got a chocolate splinter while assembling ingredients for my German Chocolate Cake.

I handle boiling water and spitting sugar syrup weekly and yet I don't get burned or scarred from those things. No...only this gal would get a splinter from a shard of bakers chocolate.

The pyrex measuring cup with but half a cup of boiling water emerged from the microwave. I am extra careful around hot water and hot things in general. Who wants to get burned? Scars tell cool stories but not while you're screaming in agony while curled up on the floor---dogs watching in amused bewilderment.

I set the boiling water on the counter. The german chocolate baking chocolate was in it's nice 4 ounce box, resting peacefully next to my jar of crackers. I picked up the box and started to open it. Out came the white paper covered chocolate bar and I threw the paper box in the recycling bin (I am a good person, I recycle! Take that, you green fanatics). The water was still bubbling furiously in the measuring cup--perfect temperature to melt the baking chocolate.

With the bar of chocolate in my hand, pre-scored and ready to break into bits, I broke the bar in half. Not a problem. This is kid's play!

It wasn't until I tried to break that half into a fourth that all evil emerged from that smooth velvety chocolate bar. It was as if it had been planning--nay--deliberately and collectively plotting my downfall. I took the half in my hand and firmly attempted to break that half of chocolate evil into a fourth. Failed attempt.

Discouraged but ambitious, I tried again, but this time I grasped the chocolate bar more firmly and used more force when I attempted to break it.

I heard a snap and a low pop at the exact moment I felt a sharp pain shoot up through my right forefinger. I yelped! Oh the PAIN! The AGONY! The wretched soul that is mine!

My finger went numb and I was at this point hopping around the kitchen on one foot with the bar of chocolate evil laying on the counter (no doubt devilishly cackling and sneering at it's success). My finger gained consciousness after a few seconds and I dared to look down at my finger.

Sure enough, a long shard of german baking chocolate was sticking out from under my nail, jammed up under it. I felt as if I were sitting in a dark damp room with but a spotlight above me being interrogated by foreign baking terrorists who were sticking spatulas under my fingernails as a means to make me spill the beans about my most prized secret recipe. Oh the TORTURE. I am a martyr for trying to boil chocolate alive.

After I collected my wits I walked to the sink and started running warm/hot water on my finger to relieve the pain. You, friend, should be very thankful that I am sacrificing the bedrest of my right forefinger to write this story to you! Feel proud---very proud.

Sadly, the pain has not gone away but BOY did I throw the rest of that baker's chocolate into that boiling (at this point-subboiling) water with a madman's fervor. It's like when a puny little underdog finally sticks up for himself to the class bully. Sure, it feels good for the puny runt to finally punch the bully and the bully is taken aback for just one moment before the rage rises in their eyes and the chase ensues--leaving the puny runt to cry on the ground in fetal position. Yes--I was the bully. The chocolate stood up to me but in the end, I won and will continue to win. HA!

So, there's my tale of a chocolate splinter. Do you think I'll use a knife to break apart the chocolate bar next time? Probably not---I'm too darn stubborn to use a knife at this point...