Word: cocoa
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...Lord. I've not seen such a fashion for improving the lot of those who live in less happy lands since I was a child in Britain memorizing what bits of the empire sent what goods to the mother country (Malaya, rubber; the Gold Coast, cocoa; Bengal, jute). And I confess I get queasy at the memories and deeply uneasy that the U.S. may be about to embark on a voyage to disappointment...
...Adoor has evolved from fiery-eyed New Wave revolutionary to wise old cineast. When I first meet him at his home outside Trivandrum, he's wearing a traditional white dhoti, blue plaid shirt and square glasses that make his black eyes look like marbles in a bowl. He has cocoa-colored skin and wavy white hair that seems to uncoil as the humid Kerala day wears on. The architecture that surrounds him is classically Keralite: the roof is low-slung and pyramidal, and the tiles are red terra-cotta. Egyptian hieroglyphics hang near a miniature print of the Mona Lisa...
...Clyde Barrow, 20, visited a girlfriend in Dallas and went into the kitchen for some cocoa. There he met Bonnie Parker, 19; he remained sweet on her for their brutal careers. Their supposedly populist capers and violent deaths inspired a film mythology about love, girls and guns...
...Ackler uses only natural ingredients to make his creamy but relatively low-fat desserts. Chillers in his factory on Bridges Street are piled high with pure fruit purees, Madagascar vanilla beans, Valrhona cocoa, Italian pistachios, spices, even flowers. And these exotic ingredients from faraway places are thrown into suggestive creations such as "raspberry nipple," "chocolate ecstasy" and "volcanic pistachio." His most unusual flavor? The zingy lemon-pepper, which has a delightful kick. So popular is Ackler's ice cream that it's on the menu at many top Hong Kong eateries, and several independent markets sell it by the kilo...
...filled with all the little things that allow soldiers to feel human again. Making cups of coffee mixed with cocoa on illicit propane stoves. Washing and changing socks for the first time since Kuwait. Swapping girlie magazines. Smoking, eating, sleeping. Down on the riverbank, among egrets and kingfishes, I take a swim and a bath, watching a tortoise the size of a dustbin lid push itself lazily down stream. And realize I'm washing by the Rivers of Babylon, a few score miles to the North...