Question: Why the letter to ‘Gianduia’? Answer: Randomness and because I can.
Dearest Gianduia,
I must admit that I am sadly not very skilled at writing letters. You know which ones I mean. The romantic ones. I wish I could compose a letter filled with the most eloquent expressions woven from a feather tipped quill like Casanova would have done. Or was Casanova not a writer and just a philanderer? Regardless, you must now endure a slightly twisted form of banter in the form of a letter La Donna del Vino-style. It should be relatively painless.
To be truly frank, Gianduia, when I first basked in your presence I did not know that much about you, instead generalising your looks amongst the other more common forms of chocolate. To me, you looked the same with just a more unnerving price tag attached. I’d heard rumours that you were smoother than a praline. That did catch my attention, but I still thought of you merely as a simple blend of chocolate from very finely ground hazelnuts and sugar. I did not think anything of the sensation you may be able to offer.
After becoming a little more acquainted with you these past six months, I’d say that they were right. You are so much more.
Gianduia, how do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
One) You are a mélange of milk chocolate and hazelnuts of extremely indulgent proportions.
Two) You were born as the specialty of the region around Turin where some of the world’s finest hazelnuts are grown. I can testify to that fact after being offered a bagfull of delectable handpicked hazelnuts from an Italian admirer so many years ago. Considering my sister is about to marry a Piemontese from Turin, I think this can only mean positive associations between one another in the future.
Three) Tracing back through your origins in history, I discovered that you were named after a carnival and marionette character of the same name and were titled the official ‘King’ of the festivities because of your inclination for wine (particularly Brachetto d’Acqui), gastronomy and other sensual delights. You see, Gianduia, we have so much in common already!
Four) I understand that you probably prefer to see yourself presented as an untouched intact block. But I don’t feel that I need to refrain from divulging my preference to this random-letter-reading-world that in your shaven form, you provide me with the only way of devouring you in the least haste.
My only concern with our inevitable future rendezvous, is that just like those little packet of mints that say in tiny back label writing, “Excessive consumption may have a laxative effect”, yours should say, “Excessive consumption may have a widening effect”.
I guess we will just have to watch out for one another and ‘hang out’ in moderation.
Con infinito amore,
La Donna del Vino
(sealed with a gianduia-smeared kiss)
La Donna del Vino 
La Donna del Vino,
Are you the jealous kind? Your love letter has made me yearn to have Gianduia for myself! Will you share where I may procure some?
Also what are your thoughts on wine and chocolate together?
I anticipate that any good chocolate shop would have some. Otherwise I get my share from Enoteca Sileno in North Carlton who have both the proper Torino Gianduia, or the more affordable Belgian Gianduia cut into more manageable bites from a 4kg block!
The Gianduia I think is best enjoyed on its own, or if anything, with a glass of Brachetto d’Acqui (sweet, spritzy light-bodied wine for dessert). Darker and more bitter chocolate can pair well with some heavier bodied reds, but really, I just tend to treat myself to chocolate on its own to savour the flavour.
Excuse me a moment while I go off to procure some now…