What’s that aroma? It’s somewhat sweet, yet rich — why, it must be the glorious power of chocolate. Feeling sad? Eat chocolate. Are you happy? Eat chocolate. It is the solution to everything. Chocoholics know the truth: it’s the key to world peace.
To say that chocolate impacted my life would be an understatement — it is the reason for my salvation. Ever since I was a young cacao bean, I’ve always striven to be the best chocolatier the world has ever seen. I still remember the moment when Dr. Reese announced the launch of REESE’S University. Finally, there was a place for me to spread my mocha wings. It was now the time to find my cacao pod, a group of little beans dedicated to the art of chocolatiering.
It wasn’t long before I received a gold envelope in the mail with Dr. Reese’s encouraging words printed across it: “There is no limit to what you can do with chocolate.” Ripping it open, I gasped, finding Dr. Reese’s invitation to tour the world-renowned REESE’S U. It was time to become the greatest chocolatier the world has ever seen.
The journey was long, mostly because the chocolate car sent by Dr. Reese was completely melted. But my excitement outweighed my worries because it was my destiny to attend REESE’S U. What better place was there to learn the proper method of kibbling cacao beans, or gently tempering the mocha mixtures? I joyously dreamt the entire bus ride until we arrived at the campus.
The campus wasn’t entirely what I expected it to be. The smiling faces of those orange-clad REESE’S U students, and the joyous aromas of the chocolate factories, were missing. But mostly a bigger mystery arose — where was Dr. Reese’s statue? The more I looked around campus, the more it felt … unfamiliar. Unsettling. Not at all like the sweet sugary emporium I’d been promised by that life-changing advertisement, years ago. There were no happy students in orange sweatshirts, nor were there marching bands with Reese’s cup drums.
I met up with our tour guide just to see him wearing a sweater with the initials “UBC.” What could that even mean? University of Brilliant Chefs? Was I in the wrong place? I asked the guide where REESE’S University was; surely it must have been over yonder. He gave me a weird look before telling me that this was UBC. I had no idea what he was talking about. This had to be REESE’S U, if not, then all my dreams had been for nothing.
But the more I looked around, the more I realized that maybe this wasn’t REESE’S U. The climate was completely wrong for the cacao trees — everyone knows cacao can only grow with strict temperatures between 18–32 ℃. It was nowhere near the tropical oasis I was promised. There was no sun, just a dark and dreary nightmare.
I leaned over to someone on the tour. “Does it get any hotter?”
She glared at me as she twirled her umbrella around. “You picked the wrong university.”
My worries began to bubble, like chocolate on a stove. I assumed the other students had been here for Reese’s as well — they were not. As soon as people found out I thought this was a chocolate-making school, I was ridiculed. They called me “Willy Wonka-looking ass” — I didn’t even know what that meant.
“Go find your oompa loompas,” they told me. I was melting under their fiery, disapproving glares, and not in the fondue way or in the ooey-gooey s’mores way. These students weren’t semi-sweet; they were unsweetened.
It was all too much. I ran away, tossing my chef’s hat to the ground. What was I thinking? No one makes it as a chocolatier. I had almost given up hope until I saw it on the ground — a Reese’s peanut butter cup wrapper. It was then that I remembered my purpose.
I held the crinkly wrapper in my hand as tears filled my eyes. Like the wrapper, I was feeling a little wrinkled, and yet, like the wrapper, I myself was a symbol of hope; REESE’S U had been inside me the whole time. It was then that I remembered my purpose — why the incomparable, most-esteemed Dr. Reese had brought me here: to bring chocolate back to the world.
I swiftly rushed to the nearest stove (some joyless place called Orchard Commons?) and whipped up the titular dessert. I added a little bit of cocoa, a little bit of peanut butter and a whole lot of love.
The angry-looking people in hairnets tried to stop me, but visionaries do not succumb to threats like “I’m calling security” or “I’m gonna sic the kitchen rats on you.” As I mixed, folded and melted my chocolatey goodness on the stove, the decadent aroma hypnotized them.
“I’ve never smelled good food before,” said one cook.
“It’s a miracle!” said another.
I handed the Reese’s out to people with a smile on my face — it was time to bring back cheer, thus, it was time to bring back chocolate. From the corner of my eye, I swear I could see Dr. Reese smiling at me. But when I looked back, he vanished.
The students, happily fed, demanded to learn the tricks of my trade. I watched, eyes glossy, as they threw down their textbooks and divisive faculty-specific merchandise. This would be REESE’S University, and we would build it together.
The important thing about people is that we are all different, just like chocolate — white chocolate, milk chocolate, dark chocolate, ruby, spicy, sweet, semi-sweet, bitter you name it. No matter the form, cocoa is what unites us.
I watched as the students rallied around me. With the taste of peanuts on my tongue and chocolate on my lips, I shouted, “Raise your cup … to cocoa.”
And they did.
