I was so bored by this book that I even made laudable sighs and yawns while reading. The characters are so stereotypical and Harris is trying so hard to create some sort of mysticism around chocolate and food, but to my mind she fails miserably. Not one single bit of saliva managed to press its way out from its glands in the passages of festivities and chocolate making. That is quite some feat. The book is a masterpiece in political correctness and I am not surprised that it was written in the 90s. The faiblesse for some sort of New Age spirituality, the dogmatic and hypocritical priest of the established religion all adds up to a terribly outdated and charmless book, when read 15 years after its publication.