Did I ever tell you about the

chocolate museum in Köln, Germany?

It's a must-see for any self-respecting

chocoholic, believe me.

I found it on one of my long

rambles around that city while visiting our daughter Mary last year. Her

rehearsal schedule at the opera house meant I had to amuse myself many

hours each day, and I got to know the old city very well.

I was particularly entranced

this particular chilly day, I walked from near Mary's apartment to the

downtown area ­ several miles ­ along the river walk. Tired,

and ready to turn in toward the shops and restaurants, I saw what appeared

to be the prow of a huge glass and metal ship close to the bank. This

demanded closer inspection.

As I drew near, it became obvious

I was looking at a building, one that apparently had been built over a

span of centuries. Part of it looked like a Renaissance-era fortress;

the far end looked like an unused warehouse, and then there was that ultra-modern

prominence. The whole thing was set off from the bank far enough that

a visitor crossed a narrow canal on a gangplank.

It was the Chocolate Museum.

I knew there was a Chocolate Museum in Köln [Cologne], but assumed

it was some hole-in-the-wall. Wrong. It was spectacular.

You enter through glass doors

nearly surrounding a lavish lobby, with a dining area to the right and

the most sumptuous gift shop to the left. Naturally the fragrance of chocolate

drifts through the building, and detailed exhibits show the growing, harvesting,

and preparation of cacao.

There's even an old-fashioned

glass conservatory in which cacao trees grow. Then you enter an actual

production area, with displays of equipment from the primitive to the

modern, and lo and behold, real people operating a real chocolate factory.

An attendant standing in the

very prow of the "ship" offers a stick she has just dipped into

a swirl of lukewarm chocolate. I thought I was in heaven, looking past

her to the surging waters of the Rhine, as though I was piloting a boat

under the massive railroad bridge built by Kaiser Wilhelm, while chewing

chocolate off a stick.

Such sensory overload is inhumane.

During the year Mary lived

in Köln she never got around to visiting the museum. She loves chocolate

as much as I do, but when I described the place, she looked skeptical

that a museum for candy could possibly be so interesting.

She moved