Candy Cane Carnage: the Common Calamity
The ceaseless and inevitable passage of time is bound to witness every disguising veil flutter to the floor in betrayal of its wearer. My time of unveiling, dear reader, has come. The pinnacle of my creation - this House itself - in its pursuit of comprehensive study must chip away at my anonymity. I therefore reveal to the world that I am a foot soldier of the UBC academic army. Like any UBC student, it is my scholarly obligation to pay at least slight attention to the famed UBC cafe, Blue Chip. Well, fame and notoriety do nothing for defense against my sharpened sword of critique. I show no mercy to the cafe that fuels my caffeinated calculus exams.
A Blue Chip display sign proudly - and perhaps daringly, when this House is a customer - advertised the holiday hot chocolate special: Candy Cane Hot Chocolate. I was not in the mood to be disappointed; I know how hot chocolates can be at busy cafes. However, a dear friend of mine reminded me that God sent me to this world for a purpose, and it was to rid the world of charlatan hot chocolate makers. Yes, I had to set my fear aside. I slapped my credit card on the counter and demanded the candy cane cocoa.
It was a pretty little thing. The holiday cup was adorned with swirls of fluffy whipped cream and seemingly iridescent green and red shards of sugar. Cream and sugar are agreeable to any palate, making the first sips pleasant, although I do not think any rational UBC student would give Blue Chip credit for purchasing candy canes and whipped cream. What is more interesting is what lies beneath the surface. What face rests beneath the finely embroidered veil?
A plain one.
Blue Chip hot chocolate is like every cafe creation: thin, syrupy, and lacking the presence of the main character. If this hot chocolate’s flavour was participating in a chocolate taste-alike competition, its odds of winning would be abysmal. Such is the way with standard cafe hot chocolate. Worse still, the overpowering nature of the peppermint flavour masked any hope of the chocolate being discovered. Indeed, if the chocolate flavour in Blue Chip hot chocolate sought a veil to hide its face, it damn near selected an opaque curtain.
However, I cannot call it worse than other hot chocolates I have tried, and not many hot chocolates are presented as prettily as the one set before me. I, therefore, being far too merciful of a master at times, decree that this hot chocolate must spend eternity in purgatory, being neither excellent nor terrible, merely another unremarkable chocolate to reap profits from desperate students seeking a shred of Christmas cheer in the bleak winter of final exams.
My very best wishes to my fellow students as they embark on the final exam journey, which is in its peak at time of writing. If you wish to be truly satisfied by a good hot chocolate and your dismay is not so great that you retain at least some self respect, I encourage you to seek your chocolate off-campus. When I find a worthwhile UBC hot chocolate, the pigs may learn to fly.