It was a delight to represent Prestat at the Hampton Court Palace Food Festival. Despite occasional bad weather, spirits were kept high as festival-goers pored over our chocolates. The Sea Salt Bars were extremely popular, as were the Dark Chocolate Raspberry bars, and samples of these ran out too soon, despite our best efforts to ration as well as we could. The food lovers were also enamoured with our letter from the Queen. The knowledge they too could eat like Royalty was a treat. We hope to have as much success next year!

Anthony Lewis- Binns

Botho Strauss wrote his play Gross und Klein in 1978, three decades after one of the most momentous events in world history. Set primarily in Germany, the play deals with one woman’s inability to make human connections with others. Her almost autistic manner with the various characters she comes across could perhaps be seen as a metaphor for the German psyche after the war- an innocent woman, full of humanity that is unfortunately unseen and unheralded because people just don’t wish to know.

The play begins with a stunning monologue, Cate Blanchett’s Lotte instantly engaging the audience as she listens to, partially digests, and relates a conversation between two businessmen whilst on holiday in Morocco. She seems too easily impressed, exclaiming emphatic “Ah- MAY-zing!”s after every banality. It smells of desperation, and invites the audience into her mental state. We get a sense that she wants to please everybody she meets, which suggests a neediness borne out of rejection, or indifference.

Scenes that follow serve up more of the same, varying in intensity, but all with the same longing and desperation. Blanchett creates a pathetic but endearing character. We feel for her, and we cringe at her. Her humanity is offset by some rather sociopathic characters. She catches up with an old school friend who refuses to let her into her flat, meaning the conversation largely takes place through an intercom. She suggests inappropriate articles for her feature- writer husband, who is abusive and wants a divorce. Pathos is created when it becomes apparent that she cannot see or sense rejection, and blithely continues on whatever thread she has started. Her performance is nothing short of incredible, requiring a range of emotions of such depth so as to make the audience care explicitly about her. She is a very physical actor, and lunges around the stage in a perfect show of endurance. I remember thinking at the interval ‘she must be exhausted already’.

It must have been a bittersweet production for the other actors, who are relegated to the shade because of the star performance. All act their parts with gusto, but there is not enough meat in the individual characters. This is in part due to Blanchett’s barnstorming, but also because of the structure of the play, which is divided into ten scenes, each with different people, who appear, and then disappear never to return. It plays like a series of vignettes. The structure could be viewed as problematic because we don’t have enough time to soak in the story before it rushes on. The play is almost three hours long, but feels far shorter, which is probably a good thing. The narrative, whilst not strictly non-linear, feels so. Chapters seem unrelated, and I am quite sure that scenes could be mixed up and played in a different order, and the audience would be none the wiser.

The set design is minimalistic. I particularly liked the sense of distance created in a scene set at a bus stop, with white road strips decreasing in width as they stretch backwards. The sparsity of the set pieces allowed for total focus on the acting, which in the end, is the main reason to see this play.

Anthony Lewis- Binns

But not the Easter Bunny. For some inexplicable reason, he had been charged with the task of delivering and hiding chocolate eggs to all the children of the world, like a hopping Santa, only with no helpers. It wasn’t fair. ‘Why’, he thought, ‘didn’t they get a squirrel for this gig?’ And why indeed? Squirrels hibernate, and thus would be more used to being forced out of life’s contemplation for most of the year. Squirrels also hide nuts everywhere, and have a knack for finding them again much later. Yes, squirrels were more suited to this mammoth task than any rabbit. Perhaps only a rabbit could be trusted.

Of course, we humans made the bunny do it for symbolic reasons of fertility and new life. Had not the Easter Bunny been chosen for this task and forced into the pantheon of Great Figures like the Tooth Fairy and Santa who bring joy to children throughout the year, he would have understood the link between bunnies and fertility. He would have been at it like the rabbit that he was. Alas, his very existence relied upon being contemplated by people, and that only came around for a few weeks in spring, and from the moment he popped into human consciousness, he had to be busy busy busy with his chocolate delivery.

He bounced from garden to garden, day in, day out, trying to find the best spots to hide the eggs. Out of the sun, for they would otherwise melt. Away from the glinting eyes of the kleptomaniac magpies, who would put London rioters to shame with their flagrant taking of what doesn’t belong to them. Bushes were good, sheds better. DEFINITELY no kennels. Much as he relished the thought of revenge for the times his kinfolk had been chased and terrorised by those beasts, he had to keep in mind that his purpose was to bring joy to the children. Not to poison their dogs.

Now it sounds as if the Easter Bunny wasn’t so enamoured with his lifestyle, but it did have its perks. Seeing the joy he brought to all the children, listening to the squeals of delight as they found their precious egg, somehow made it worth it.

And the eggs themselves! He had gone from having to raid egg barns on farms to supply kids with eggs to paint, to taking large orders from some of the best chocolatiers in the land. Amongst those was his personal favourite, Prestat.
Being a rabbit, he had a soft spot for flowers. He would in another life have spent countless hours in the meadows, nibbling on roses, or daisies, or violets. In light of this, Prestat, knowing the burden the bunny had to put up with every year, decided to make things easier on him by introducing a Rose and Violet Creme Easter Egg. Whenever he had to deliver one of these, he was reminded that chocolate brought joy, and so by corollary, did he. In the end, spreading a little happiness around was nothing to be sniffed at. Maybe it wasn’t as bad a deal as he thought.

Happy Easter!

Anthony Lewis- Binns

So one can now rejoice in the knowledge that with the arrival of Easter, comes the disappearance of Lent, which in its wake brings the reappearance of all you denied yourself (for noble reasons of course.) For a sizeable number, that means chocolate.

The egg is a symbol of new life. In centuries past, it was traditional to decorate hens’ eggs, but this has been usurped in this glorious modern age with chocolate eggs, which taste far better. It was also said that Mary Magdalene brought cooked eggs to the tomb of Jesus, and the eggs turned bright red when he rose, which explains why people decorate them.

There may not be a religious or traditional reason behind the popularity of chocolate eggs, but culinary excuses are just as valid. Prestat celebrates Easter with some of the best chocolate eggs in the world, eggs befitting Prestat’s status as a purveyor of luxury chocolate. Eggs can be bought in white, milk and dark varieties. A firm favourite is the Rose and Violet Cream egg, the dark chocolate egg accompanied by the famous rose and violet creams. The slightly bitter nature of dark chocolate is perfectly balanced with the sweet rose and violet cream- filled chocolates. The original dark chocolate egg is filled with delicious truffles, to make a real gourmet chocolate gift. A personal favourite is the Sea Salt Caramel Egg, which comes complete with caramel truffles infused with sea salt to create the perfect piquancy.

A celebratory option is the Marc de Champagne mini egg set, which has 16 hand-foiled bespoke mini eggs, made to the famous Champagne truffle recipe. They are the perfect way to indulge in the delights of chocolate come Easter.

Prestat’s box designs lend themselves well to Easter, which is often celebrated with the decorating of eggs. Box designs by Kitty Arden perfectly exemplify the luxury inside the box. Gold-embossed with quirky egg- themed designs, they can be kept and used to store other treasures. They are certainly not meant for throwing away.

Prestat has a fair trade policy which ensures that the ingredients are always sourced fairly, giving farmers their fair share of the economy borne out of the chocolate trade. Buying with Prestat thus ensures the luxury whilst helping to support farmers around the globe. Go to the Prestat website’s fair trade tab to read about how the company takes the process beyond and above what is required by the basic fair trade policy.

Make Easter a special occasion with Prestat.

Happy Easter to all,

Anthony Lewis- Binns.

The reasons for this are multifarious. It is said there is no stronger bond than that between mother and child, and this is probably correct. If one is lucky, one has a handful of people in a lifetime who always have one’s own best interests at heart. There is inherent trust in a person who will act for you over themselves, give sound advice, and be there to listen and to comfort. This is borne out of love, which I’m graciously told is unconditional. The unconditional nature of such love doesn’t mean that it can be ignored, left un-nurtured, and be forgotten about (unless you are a teenager, seemingly.) Celebrating one day out of the year the gift of parenthood is the smallest price to pay for such levels of protection.

Though it need not be said, none of us would be here without the women who carried us for nine months, nursed us, read to us, clothed us. No child asks to be born, though I’m sure, endowed with the ability to speak and a higher level of consciousness, any foetus would squall a resounding ‘yes’ to the question ‘Fancy being born?’ Once in the world and defenceless, we all relied on the love and protection of parents to get us safely on the way to adulthood. Fathers obviously share in this burden- for it is a burden to be ultimately responsible for another sentient being- but we can get to Father’s Day another time!

The bond, looked at from nature’s perspective, can be ferocious. Stray too close to an animal such as a bear with cubs, and you would be lucky to escape with your life. Nature is red in tooth and claw, in part because of the Darwinist imperative to ensure the survival of offspring.

But how to reciprocate some of all that giving? Prestat chocolates are always a thrilling gift, because of the extra care and attention that is paid to the act of gifting. Buying chocolates is not just about the eating. Well, it can be. But investing thought and care into a gift is what makes said gift special. The Prestat Jewel Box contains an assortment of chocolates which lends itself to the variety of ways in which a mother cares for her children. The champagne truffles can be a microcosm for the celebration of motherhood on this particular day. The heart assortment, in the classic heart- shaped box, transforms itself from the romantic love of Valentine’s, to the familial love of Mother’s Day in a heartbeat. Prestat chocolates are made with the best ingredients, and the best we can give is what is required for our mothers. Health as well as indulgence can be accounted for with the Choxi+ range, with its abundance of flavanols.

Importantly, the boxes can be kept as keepsakes because of how well- designed they are. They are decorative enough to be ornamental and sturdy enough to be practical. Buying a Mother’s Day gift from the Prestat range is a way of showing, more so than with generic boxes of chocolates, that you understand the depth of feeling that exists between mother and child, and want to mark the occasion with style and panache. It will delight, and be treasured. It shows how much you care.
A happy Mother’s Day to all the mothers in the world,

Anthony Lewis- Binns

Lavinia, the shop manager, has worked in the Prestat shop for almost five years. She is a cheerful and amiable woman, qualities which lend themselves particularly well to the Prestat store, which nestles in the luxurious surroundings of the Princes Arcade in Piccadilly. I enter the shop in an informal and almost incognito style, and am treated initially like a curious customer. Warm smiles and ‘good afternoon’ greetings follow, and I introduce myself as the interviewer. Before we delve into the questions, it is imperative I say something about the store itself.

It is a surprisingly small and intimate place, befitting the artisan nature of the goods. The air is thick with the smell of chocolate, which is happily intoxicating. No-one entering could realistically leave without sampling or buying the chocolates, which are arranged around the store in ornate and colourful boxes. Visually, Prestat is reminiscent of how one would imagine Roald Dahl’s famous Willy Wonka’s factory to be, which is a considerable achievement given the fictional nature of said factory. I imagine the conjuring of such a famous literary setting is deliberate, and it is quite magical. Stepping inside is to step out of the hustle and bustle and into the calm and charm of a traditional confectioner , where both sight and smell are engaged most positively.

With the walls of the store stocked with a dizzying array of different chocolates, one could be forgiven for being spoilt for choice, and thus flummoxed when deciding upon what to buy. The counter rectifies this, as both Lavinia and her assistant, Naoe, are on hand to give out samples to try (of which more shall be said later!)

I ask Lavinia what a typical day at work involves. “I usually get to the store at around nine. We do a little bit of tidying, make sure the shelves are stocked and things look neat, and I check orders.” Asking Lavinia a little about her previous working life, she informs me that she has been in the business of retail for a long time. She certainly knows how to keep a shop running like clockwork.

The main aspect of working in the store involves interaction with the customers. I ask if there are any difficulties here. “All of the customers are polite and friendly. We get a lot of regulars who have loved the chocolates for years.” Asking about the clientele, I am unsurprised to hear that Prestat gets “MP’s, sometimes Sirs and Ladies, and we have a lot of celebrities in here too.” Stephen Fry had been in recently. Recognising the luxury of the chocolates, Lavinia informs me that many of the customers come to look around, and sample the chocolates. Many tourists come in. “We get a lot of Japanese tourists in particular, who all love the chocolate.” Shop assistant Naoe is Japanese herself, which is handy for dealing with the Japanese tourists who regularly enter the shop. Rapport with customers is important, especially in a small but well-established company, and the international nature of the shop, its staff, and indeed the chocolates, which encompass flavours from around the world, is testament to the vision for the store as a leader in purveying the best chocolates. No-one would feel unwelcome in the shop, whether a regular, or a tourist with little English.

I ask Lavinia what attracted her to Prestat, and what she enjoys about her work. “Well, I love chocolate of course. But the shop is special; the surroundings make it a very attractive place to work. The customers are always very friendly, and I love it. Bill and Nick (owners of the shop) are great too, and I think it is important that we all get on very well. It makes working here very easy when you like and respect your co-workers. We all have a great relationship.”

In testament to her love of working at Prestat, Lavinia enthuses about how she will be returning to work after taking some maternity leave; the baby is due in mid-April. She is expecting a baby girl, and the excitement is plain to see. I ask about any cravings she has experienced, and she delves into a funny anecdote.

“I don’t drink very much, but I do have a glass of wine now and again. Obviously now I’m pregnant I don’t drink at all, but I still get to eat the champagne truffles, so this is ok! It makes up for it!” I ask Lavinia which chocolates she would recommend buying for a new mother. “Oh, definitely the champagne truffles, because having a baby is something to celebrate. Also, we have the Babes (fruity jellies enrobed in chocolates) which are good because they have that child theme, so that would be thoughtful too.”

We talk about what qualities Lavinia looks for when considering hiring. Retail experience of course, but also “body language and presentation are important, because customer interaction is important. Our customers are friendly and talkative, so somebody who is very friendly and talkative too. And a passion for chocolate of course!”

I ask about the difficult aspects of the job, imagining myself that the pressure of keeping up standards in a shop where high standards are expected must be taxing. Lavinia is surprising in her answer. “I don’t feel there are many hard aspects to my job actually. There is something just….pleasant about working here. I love the job, and coming in to work with chocolate and nice customers is really good fun. The customers are always happy to be in here, and that makes me happy too.”

Wrapping up the interview (pun perhaps intended), the talk turns to the chocolate itself. I ask Lavinia for her favourite, stipulating she must only pick one. A long pause follows. “Oh my God, it’s so hard to pick one….but I have to say the original Napoleon III truffles. They are our own original chocolates, they can’t be bought anywhere else, and they are so historic. And they taste wonderful.”

I am offered a selection of chocolates to try for myself, and all I can say is ‘Well done Lavinia!’ for having the strength of mind to choose a single chocolate. Listing things is rather dull, but in this particular case, it lends itself well to hinting at the sheer variety of exotic flavours on offer at Prestat. I try: A Napoleon III truffle, a cinnamon one, and a pistachio one. The insides are soft and creamy, the cinnamon one in particular feels like an actual cinnamon bun inside a chocolate. Willy Wonka’s three- course meal chewing gum no longer seems so fantastical, because the juxtaposition of crisp outer chocolate with the molten insides really does feel like you are getting more than just one chocolate with each that you eat.
I try the sea salt and caramel chocolate, a seemingly strange combination that works perfectly, the hint of salt offsetting the sweetness in harmony. A saffron and ginger chocolate gives flavours that are hard to describe, other than to say they taste delicious, and are now my favourites.

I can only fully recommend a trip to the Prestat store. Its whimsy, its delectable array of different chocolates and its friendly staff combine to create a wonderful experience that can be continued until the last chocolate has gone….once there, it is hard to leave, and the consolation of course, is knowing that it isn’t going anywhere.

Anthony Lewis- Binns

“Okay everyone” said Mother Cocoa Bean, “you all know the plan. You know what happens next, are we ready?”

If Mother Cocoa Bean had had time, she might have gone through the plan once more. Get cut down. Broken open, separated, perhaps forever. Lie on the ground to bask in the glorious rays of the Sun, and wait for the Conversion.

Time was of the essence for The Man with the Big Knife however, and in one fell swoop, the cut was made. The Cocoa beans had the exhilarating sensation of falling, before they hit the ground, ready to be scooped up.
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Two days hence, and Kirby the Cocoa Bean was waiting, and wondering. He had been schooled wisely whilst in the pod with his family. Cocoa beans do not have many options in life. With such a limited capacity for career options, the most that can be hoped for is to end up in a box of the most wonderful chocolates they can. Mother Cocoa Bean had filled their little shells with tales of Chocolate factories, where they are turned into the smoothest liquid, before being added that other human favourite, sugar. If they were very lucky, they could be fudged, or truffled, or marbled. If they were quite lucky, Old Man Cadbury could use them and they would feature in adverts with a suggestive bunny rabbit. If their luck was cut as swiftly as their pod with a machete swipe, they might find themselves in the unfortunate position of becoming a candy bar. And whilst that may sound exotic, the problem with candy bars, Mother Bean always said, was that there was less of you left than anything else. “Anything less than 30% and count yourself disowned” went what became a refrain.
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Later that week, and into the furnace for roasting. Mother Cocoa Bean had been reticent here; to tell one’s children that they were about to be burned to within an inch of their lives was not an easy job, and was probably best shirked altogether. ‘Besides’, thought Mother Cocoa Bean, ‘we have no nervous system to speak of, and cannot feel pain.’ It was best not to upset the children.

Kirby Cocoa Bean did not enjoy the process, despite the lack of pain receptors. He felt himself being scooped up into a great mound, with many cocoa beans he did not know. The sudden realisation that the individual had no control over where he or she ended up could not be shaken. He glanced around, absolutely sure that he could see the riff- raff from the tree next to theirs in his batch. ‘They’ll never end up a luxury chocolate’ he thought. But where did that leave Kirby? Destined for a powder to be sprinkled over overpriced coffee (which had happened to an uncle, so the legend had it)?
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As it happened, all was well. Mother Cocoa Bean had explained about being conched, where they were ground and liquefied before having those hallowed additives, sugar and vanilla, added to their person. “The longer you are conched”, she would say, “the better”.

Well Kirby was conched for what seemed like forever. Things were looking up. The sweet smell of vanilla wafted through what passed for a liquefied cocoa bean’s nostrils, and relaxation followed. Sugar, that holy element, had attached itself nicely to Kirby’s newly-malleable form. He did what he had been taught and focussed with all his might, all of his attention on how much of him was left. ‘Not all there’ being a jibe to a human, is merely pedestrian to a cocoa bean who wants to be a chocolate. ‘Mostly there’ is what to aim for.

Kirby was in fact 70% present. Yes, things were looking up indeed. The fear of ending up as an ‘essence of’ in a body lotion could be banished. The dream of being bought in a beautifully embossed and colourful box by a rarefied and distinguished individual was seemingly coming to fruition.
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Though taught to dream big, no cocoa bean dares to believe that they could find themselves nesting inside a box with a Royal stamp of approval. It would be beyond the wildest dreams of the average bean. The Holy Grail to a cocoa bean from humble beginnings in South America was to be purveyed by the elegant Prestat, King amongst a sea of chocolate-related goods.

Kirby the Cocoa Bean had hit the jackpot. Whatever had happened to the various members of his family (and he had a sneaking suspicion that his twin was lying somewhere in Nestle headquarters, poor thing), HE had managed to run the entire gauntlet, coming out top trumps. The Usain Bolt of chocolate. Kirby felt a sense of relief. A Prestat chocolate, who would believe him? He hoped to get the message to Mother Cocoa Bean soon.
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Having talked about the reticent nature of Mother Cocoa Bean before, it should come as no surprise that she had left out another important nugget of information, so an not to trouble her children. The purpose of chocolate……..
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A lady in a fine cotton dressing gown disrobed, and sank into a well- deserved bath. The candles were lit; Schubert could be heard from the speakers. She had just hosted a wonderful dinner party. Her blinis had gone down a treat, and she was relieved; she’d spent hours perfecting the menu. A thank- you gift for a wonderful time lay at the table beside her. A box of the brightest pink, and the bluest blue, with gold lettering, was just within reach. She pulled off the lid, unfolded the paper, and brought the box to her face, inhaling deeply as she sank deeper into the hot water. Very appreciative of the intoxicating smell of Prestat chocolate, her fingers hesitated over one or two choices, before clasping themselves around a small square of deep brown. She brought the chocolate to her lips, opened her mouth, and would have been most thankful that cocoa beans do not have nervous systems, because Kirby the Cocoa Bean had been such a nice guy.

Anthony Lewis- Binns

Laid to rest along here on the 14th of February centuries ago, St Valentine was being given another chance. Perhaps it was felt somewhere in the chaos of the universe, that there was not enough love present any more. An injection of the symbol of love, oozing through the veins of history, until it leapt, like Aphrodite from the sea, into the thicket of humanity to change our ways.

It had been concluded previously that music was the food of love, but perhaps it was time to re-analyse that dictum. This was the precise thought St Valentine had as his newly- formed figure advanced into town. Music was assaulting his ears from every angle, but there wasn’t a violin in sight. Despite his expiration prior to the invention of violins, all dead and all alive know the sound of love when they hear it. Instead, from his right he could hear the horns of traffic, and from his left, the roar of huge flying contraptions that could only be aeroplanes. He shuddered at the thought of being forced into one of those.

St Valentine was of the opinion that for love to flourish, peace was needed. He decided to hasten forth to find the object of his hitherto unmentioned fascination: chocolate. He doubted chocolate could be found languishing on ring roads. He had been told he could sniff it out, that it had a sweet and intoxicating smell. Cupid himself would have dipped the tips of his arrows in velvet chocolate before firing.

As he followed his nose, St Valentine ruminated. Sent back to report on the state of 21st Century love, he was flummoxed. Everywhere around him, people were smiling. People were talking. Using his innate ability to detect love, he could sense its presence, yet not see it. With his ‘love gauge’ so high, he was used to seeing couples canoodling, kisses on the lips, fingers grasped together. He was so sensitive to love he could detect butterfly kisses sent across a square mile, like a shark scenting blood in the ocean. What was amiss? Love transference from one to another had to be uninterrupted, St Valentine believed, and an air of tranquillity was desirable. Perhaps there were simply too many people nowadays. Perhaps this infuriating traffic blocked signals, the way a submarine interferes with a dolphin’s echo- location. Or was it these phones that were the problem? Yes, he could see people talking, and feel love in the air. But why was everybody staring into a blank screen in the palm of their hands? Had human beings fallen in love with small portable…machinery (he could not bring himself to use the word ‘technology’, not yet)?

Still convinced he could find the most potent answer to the riddle of where love was on modern- day Earth by studying chocolate, he lured himself towards the Chocolatiers. From his saintly position after the terrible business at the Flaminian Gate (he rubbed his neck absent-mindedly as he walked) he had noted that on his given day, the people decided to express their love in earnest. Cards were made, flowers were sent, the air was thick with seduction, wine was drunk, romance rose, the cold of the last vestiges of winter was unfelt, banished by the depth of human feeling…..and chocolate was given in abundance. Was love for chocolate considered fair trade? Were luxury chocolate gifts sweet and edible expressions of desire? He felt he must know.

He finally stepped out of the cold, and into a large supermarket. The ‘love gauge’ dropped immediately, for reasons known to anyone who enters a supermarket at lunch time. Slabs of meat piled high here, grains there…..and ah! Neatly lined on a shelf, row after row after row of the hallowed stuff he had been waiting, maybe for centuries, to try. He picked up a small variety, and had his first experience at a till in a supermarket.

Suffice it to say he did not want a repeat of that experience in a hurry, but at least he had his chocolate. He braced himself, unwrapped, opened his mouth, put the chocolate inside, and waited for rapture…….and it did not come. Chewing on what felt like rubber coated with vegetable oil and sugar, he swallowed and sat down, miserable. Disappointed. He had believed that chocolate really did show the strength of feeling one had for another, and that that strength really could break through the barriers modern life had erected which seemed to slow love down. He would now have to start again. Love was not what he felt in his mouth right then.

He got up, turned down a side street, and was about to consider buying an iphone to see whether that held the answers to love in the modern world, when his senses were assaulted again, but by an intoxicating smell, together with a shock of colour. He could smell vanilla, he could smell sweetness, perhaps a hint of champagne. The brightest blue hues, shocking pink, the colours of celebration. He followed his senses into the small shop to his left. What could Prestat be?

He knew immediately what Prestat was. The sight and smell of chocolate whelmed him nicely. “This”, thought St Valentine “is what I have been waiting for!” He realised his mistake had been to try generic chocolate, mass- produced with no feeling. How could love be found in that? To test the true bond chocolate has to love, artisan, tenderly crafted, and delicious tasting jewels had to be sought. And he had found them! He popped a Prestat truffle into his mouth……

And immediately discovered why on his glorious Day, St Valentine’s Day, love flourished, and was felt in abundance, and was most intensely experienced, with a box of the finest chocolates to hand. True love was possible to distil through the gift of chocolate.

With that, St Valentine felt he had completed his mission, and began to prepare for leaving modernity behind. He just had to finish those chocolates first…..

Anthony Lewis- Binns

The advent of globalisation has helped ensure that food tastes have developed and become more sophisticated over the years. Prestat, with its focus on luxury, artisan and hand-made goods, has been at the forefront of chocolate innovation for over a century. The combined weight of the knowledge that chocolate is both universally adored, and able to fulfill a ‘foodie’ desire for sophistication in eating, means that Prestat is the best place to peruse when considering the consumate Valentine’s gift.

When one thinks of Valentine’s Day, images of indulgence, love, and desire come to mind. It is no coincidence that giving chocolates as gifts around these times is par for the course, as second- nature as thinking to buy a card. The juxtaposition of chocolate with emotion is primal. Chocolate cheers the soul. It signals loving thoughts.

Chocolate is a gateway to celebration, to relaxation, to happiness. Scientific study proves the eating of it releases seratonin into the body, elevating the mood. It contains naturally- occuring flavanols, which help fight off free-radicals in the body which cause cell damage. Imagine a chocolate which contains more antioxidants than a bowl of blueberries, such as one from the Prestat Choxi+ range. Buying a box of chocolates for your Valentine can thus be thoughtful and guilt- free.

It can also be ethical. Prestat is committed to ensuring the growers of their ingredients receive fair prices. Take a look at the fair trade policy on the website for more information on why a gift of Prestat chocolate to a loved one has a beneficial corollary effect in places where the ingredients originate from. Show a little love for the world on Valentine’s Day too.

To make a gift of chocolate truly special, the small details matter. Aside from the taste, which is of course paramount, presentation can make the difference between a good gift and a great one. Prestat chocolates come in ornate, bright boxes, with art design that reflects the quality of the chocolates within. Not merely binned the moment the jewels are finished (and this moment comes frighteningly quickly), these boxes, designed by Kitty Arden, can be kept to store treasures, or for simple decorative purposes.

Show someone you love how much they mean to you with Prestat.

Anthony Lewis- Binns