Here’s a little joke for you: what do lesbian pulp fiction novels of the 1960’s and raw chocolate have in common?The obvious answer would be “cowgirls” and gratuitous usage of the phrase “fine and raw,” but we need to go deeper. Deeper, that is, into the problems with raw foods. I’ve never been an advocate of the paleolithic diet or any form of dietary deprivation that limits my intake of meat, cheese, potatoes, bread, cookie dough, alcohol, processed food in a spray can, or cheeseburger sliders. First Tracks picked up this bar at his local specialty food store, knowing my affinity for leggy women and mesquite flavoring, and gave it to me to review. Needless to say, I was expecting titillation on par with most objects that come in plain brown wrappers.According to the no longer unreliable source of Wikipedia, raw food is a “demonly impractical and lame excuse for ordering tepid dishes normally served to infants.” And that’s a fact. But here we had a snack that did not require heating or preparation and it was from Brooklyn. Remember the riddle I asked at the beginning of this post? Here’s the answer. The candy bar, like our classic example, “Depraved Lust Boys,” promised a similar vow with its enticing covered and delivered the same disappointment with its grainy, lackluster innards as DLB did on a long train ride home. The candy bar was strangely gritty, like hard, raisiny brownie batter, with a predominantly chalky texture. The complete lack of sugar created an obvious bitterness with no other ingredients to make up for that dearth. To add insult to injury, there was no mesquite to speak of, none whatsoever, and don’t get me started on the lack of cowgirls.I can’t believe this was so unsuccessful and so far removed from what I know to be chocolate. I could liken it to cracking open a copy of “21 Gay Street” or “All the Gay Girls” or “Art Colony Perverts” expecting Dostoevsky level depth, but you get the point. This was disappointing and has definitely dissuaded me from eating like my monkey ancestors did.