Et tu, Brute?

Julius Caesar was an autocratic, villainous, dictatorial overlord of Rome. I am an honest devotee of hot chocolate. Still, though separated by circumstance, style, and the ceaseless passage of time, we die by the same fate: pierced through flesh by the hand of a friend.

I shared in the excitement that Romans undoubtedly experienced upon the invention of public sanitation systems when I heard of Mink Chocolates first 2025 Vancouver Hot Chocolate Festival entry: Mari's Reverie - Berry and Bleu. It was advertised as a white hot chocolate mixed with berry compote and blue cheese whipped cream. As a fan of cheesecake, this crossover intrigued me, and I waited thirty minutes for the ingredients to be restocked just so I could try it.

The barista placed before me the elegant concoction. Untouched, it was beautiful, a vibrant tapestry embodying the spirit of patisserie.

Unfortunately, I took a sip.

The top was covered in some sort of crumble that misunderstood extreme sodium levels as good flavour. It was jointly a failure of texture. I am not yet the masochist who enjoys drinking glass shards that grow soggy over time. It was as though the crumble was an artistic interpretation of amorphous silica. The shards were layered so thick that a third of my drinking time was spent swallowing dry crumble. The chocolate itself had, to its credit, a strong and rich white chocolate flavour. I cannot critique that. The critique lies in the white chocolate being the only acceptable part of the drink. It was one flavour intermixed with horrid texture. The berry compote was not combined with the drink and sat miserably at the bottom. It tasted fine; only a true villain could malign the natural divinity of the berry. Still Mink found a way to make it unpleasant. Imagine adding squishy lumps to the shard mix.

In between sips, I set my drink down and questioned how such a wonderful and beloved chocolatier could serve me this drink. They had lowered themselves to the rank of the hellish cafe. Et tu, Brute? I stared at my drink in misery only to notice that it looked like a terrible and rightfully abandoned yogurt parfait. It grew ugly so quickly.

Naturally the drink belongs in Heaven. That is what I would say if lying was my philosophy. However, great Houses demand honesty. This drink belongs in Hell a thousand times over. I condemn it in every lifetime.

And this was a Mink drink! I love Mink! It makes the most wonderful hot chocolate normally and serves as my standard for Vancouver, yet here we are! There is no greater heartbreak. It feels as though the gods granted unto me a gleaming star only to burn me in its inferno. 

Alas, all great rulers must die. All great hopes must die. Every empire leaves a graveyard of aspirations in its rot and dust. But I have never been so morose.