max brenner

I should really quit my job and apply to Max Brenner's advertising department.

Now on principle I'm quite opposed to saying, "oh my gosh, you've never lived until you've had/seen/done (fill-in-the-blank)," what with the majority of the world generally not having experienced (fill-in-the-blank) and still managing to somehow survive. Also, I generally haven't had/seen/done whatever the supposedly essential thing is, and I don't particularly enjoy being told I've only imagined the last 24 years.

That being said, you've never lived until you've had Max Brenner.

And before I proceed, perhaps I should just point out that Max Brenner is not a person.

Max Brenner is a chocolate shop. It's amazing. I could stop the blog right here, but I don't think you've got the full picture quite yet. How could you? I haven't told you about the crepes.


We'll save the best for last, though. First off -- the hot chocolate. There's lots of different hot chocolates, of which I highly recommend all but the American one. As you may recall, the marshmallows are not quite up to snuff here, and trying to use them in a s'morey type way just doesn't cut it.

What does work, though, are the thick Italian milk hot chocolates. They're like drinking a melted candy bar. They're also the only "regular" size anything that actually fills me up in Sydney.

And, this is a public service announcement, I have just recently learned that they will happily put coconut flavoring in your thick Italian milk hot chocolate if you are very torn between a plain coconut hot chocolate and a thick Italian milk hot chocolate. They're particularly likely to do so if you stand wavering at their counter for upwards of two minutes while a line begins to form behind you.

Besides the many variations of hot chocolate (which are plentiful for Sydney, though sadly behind the Calvin Fishhouse standard sixteen), there are also chocolate entrees, among them, Belgian chocolate waffles abundantly drizzled in chocolate. Until I once tried them simultaneously, I had been under the impression that the waffles were drizzled in the same substance as the thick Italian milk hot chocolates (I told you it was thick). I found, however, that they are slightly different, though both utterly amazing. My only complaint is the quantity of this blessed substance they see fit to drape across the plate: if you're going to make something so good, why waste it on dishware when it could spend several happy seconds in my mouth? Aesthetics should never infringe on the territory of chocolate.

For the chocolate die-hards (and who can legitimately claim to like chocolate in any other capacity?), there is a chocolate pizza. It comes with various appropriate toppings (i.e., other varieties of chocolate), and its only real failing is the bread beneath, which is a wee bit bland.

Perhaps you're in the mood for something a bit more summery, though. I was the day I stepped into the Manly Wharf Max Brenner's and decided to try the thing in the pictures with ice cream. At first I thought I had to pick between the three toppings of chocolate, chocolate balls or rainbow sprinkles, but the friendly-though-not-quite-fluent cashier eventually steered me right: it comes with all three. Then, though, I thought I had to pick what flavor ice cream I wanted. I didn't. She told me I'd get a chocolate. She also said I'd get a popsickle.

That was where I got really confused. In my experience, popsickles are lovely endeavors, pleasant enough of a sunny summer afternoon with small children, but not precisely what I'd like to mix with chocolate balls and rainbow sprinkles (though, granted, there are relatively few foods to which those goodnesses cannot be applied).

I kept asking if she really meant a popsickle and she kept saying yes and she also kept saying chocolate and the picture didn't look too bad, so I decided to go for it and see what I got.

A few minutes later my meal (yes, that is what I'd call it) arrived: three small containers accordingly filled with chocolate, chocolate balls and rainbow sprinkles, and a Magnum chocolate dessert still in its wrapper.

I was surprised. I'd have thought they'd at least have tried to make it look like the ice cream was actually their product (like they did with the Meijer cheesecakes at Perkins), but they didn't. It was also then I realized that here something doesn't have to be fruit-flavored and come with a joke to be considered a popsickle.

I have to say, I like the Australian popsickles better. They are fantastic, especially dipped in the chocolate, which freezes on them almost instantly like Magic Shell, only much, much better.

I promised the best for last, though: the chocolate crepes. It is one of my Rules of Life to never turn down a nutella crepe. A Max Brenner crepe, though, I go so far as to never let my friends turn down.

There's not actually a lot to say -- if a taste is worth a thousand words, you won't have broken close to even by reading this -- but if I might mention, it comes a la mode. With strawberries (if you ask for them instead of bananas, which I, being a banana-hater, am prone to do). And crepe. And chocolate. The end.

The chocolate isn't the only, though by far the main, thing to love about Max Brenner. It's also one of the few places in Sydney that has justifiable prices. It's comparable to Starbucks, possibly a tad bit more, but it's the sort of place I'd consider a special occasion place. Like a Cheesecake Factory or Melting Pot, not a dash-in-for-your-daily-dose of Dunkin' Donuts. Not that that stops me going a couple times a week.

Furthermore, Max Brenner is open relatively late. In a city that hardly supplies a coffee after 6 pm, you can count on Max Brenner until 11 pm. It's much easier being single in Sydney with him around.

Well, what else would a girl fall in love with but a chocolate shop?

I tell my students the one thing they need to learn in my class is where the closest Max Brenner is (the David Jones on George Street, in their cases). Being a Northern Beaches girl, though, I'm quite a Wynyard regular. The other day I was in and they were having a staff meeting. No one raised an eyebrow to see me sitting at the next table, amid the discussions of wrappings and trimmings for Christmas products. Maybe they thought I'd already come on board. Maybe I really will.