Keeping it connected

At right is the Disney version of Tarzan. From the movie so nice, Tarzan's dad dies twice. He's an open-faced sandwich with turkey for the face, provolone eyes and roast beef dreadlocks. And no, you may not use "Roast Beef Dreadlocks" as the name for your indie band. Or "Provolone Eyes," for that matter. The floral embellishments are spinach leaves, kiwi fruit and sliced red and orange sweet peppers. Primo also got a banana AND - in an act of strict self-indulgence, as it was fully expected to go unappreciated by Primo and be possibly off-puttingly supercilious to anyone else - a square of Ghanaian chocolate.
I love the idea of single-origin chocolate. I don't know that I have the palate for it. I got a sampler on clearance at Target that promised hints of mangoes or flowers. As I opened the box I could practically taste the lava from the slopes of the volcanoes on which the Venezuelan plants grew. Mmm ... ashy.
In practice, it all tasted like chocolate.
I'm not sure why the lesson I've learned from wine didn't serve here. If red wine has "notes" of black cherry, "hints" of pomegranate or "had a plum pulled saucily across it's surface before bottling," it's going to taste to me, rather disappointingly thanks to the promises, like red wine. I pretty much need it to have a picture of the fruit it's supposed to taste like on the bottle. With wine, I'm like an African shopping for baby food. Say what you will about Arbor Mist, it's no "stone-fruit" tease ... Kendall Jackson.
Anyway, the vegetation all came back uneaten. Not the chocolate, though. I refrained from asking him whether it was enhanced by the whiffs of banana blossom and instead told him that the chocolate was grown not too far from where the gorillas in Tarzan lived. "That's kinda cool, huh?" "Yeah," he said.
But it was that kind of "yeah" that means "not really."

***UPDATE***
As of posting time, googling "Roast Beef Dreadlocks" only returns this blog entry.