I cannot say that I’m a “chocoholic.”
I eat chocolate in some way, shape, or form everyday. I’m known to top off my lunches with a small chocolate treat. At night, a square of 85% dark soothes my stomach after a day’s eating. I find the taste of straight dark chocolate to be divine — toe-curling, even — in its rich, fruity complexity. I love that perfectly tempered, snappy milk chocolate melts into creamy submission once it touches your lips. It’s difficult to savor; it’s gone in an instant. And sure, some white “chocolate” can be cloying on its own, but its high cocoa butter content makes it a luxurious pairing with more piquant ingredients.
But, no, I’m not a “chocoholic.”