nd my life has become marvelously unmanageable. It's 6 a.m. and I've already had my first hit. This morning it was a thin, dark, velvety napolitain of Venezuelan criollo with a coffee chaser. At one time I'd been satisfied with a few semisweet chocolate chips stolen out of a yellow and brown cellophane bag before I left for school in the morning. A bright and popular child like me was never suspected of stealing chocolate chips at seven in the morning. But that's how it started, my descent into cacao madness. A stolen chocolate chip here, a handful of M&M's there. My parents never knew.

Once I left for college, I found it easier to score the stuff I needed to fuel my addiction. Lucky for me I went to school in Berkeley. Alice Medrich had just opened up Cocolat. She was making chocolate truffles the size of Ping-Pong balls. I left the kid stuff behind and started to mainline her dark-chocolate creations: cocoa-dusted truffles, Queen of Sheba cakes, éclairs. Then a boyfriend introduced me to the pleasures of hot fudge sauce, no ice cream necessary. Post-college days found me wandering along the Seine, high on hot chocolate from Angelina, with an empty brown box from La Maison du Chocolat clutched to my chest, cocoa powder crusted on my lips and Berthillon chocolate ice cream dribbled on my chin. Other tourists sought out La Tour d'Argent. I only had time for Christian Constant.

But that was the '80s. Who didn't have an addiction? Fast forward 20 years and I'm still a hard-core user. How can I help myself? This is the best of times to be strung out on chocolate. Our supply has never been more abundant or so refined. The stuff is flowing in from Columbia, Madagascar, the Ivory Coast. Pure, uncut. Single varieties, single plantation grown. Criollos, trinitarios, and forasteros. And not a federal agent in sight. So how are we junkies reacting to this embarrassment of riches? By upping the ante and seeking even more freaky ways to derive pleasure from this amazing food — a pleasure best shared. A high without a hangover. Isn't it time to start sharing your stash?

Here's how.

Call up three good friends that can be trusted. Any more than four at a sitting starts to smack of an orgy, and the neighbors (or your kids) might grow suspicious. Among your responsibilities as the trip master for this choco-fest is to make sure each person has a comfortable place to sit, a glass of still water, and a few plain crackers or slices of green apple to cleanse the palate. A moist napkin to wipe chocolate-dipped fingers is a nice touch. However, your main task is to procure all the stuff — but no more than 100 grams (about four ounces) per person. You don't want to risk an overdose.

What to buy? I like to start off a session with something very dark and earthy from my supplier in Berkeley: Scharffen Berger 82% Cacao Extra Dark. This will separate the habitual users from the first-timers. Not one of your friends will have mainlined this most intense chocolate unless they're dedicated chocoholics.

The second hit should also be in the dark-chocolate range but with slightly less cacao and more sugar, say, Bernard Castelain 77% cacao. From here, move on to something semisweet with a great mouthfeel, like Guittard's 61% cacao, for number three. Number four will be a milk chocolate. But choose one with a high cacao content like El Rey 41% cacao milk chocolate from Venezuela. And because every tasting needs a ringer, conclude with a white chocolate. This is a chance to understand what a true white chocolate can taste like and will spark a conversation about why it is not legally considered chocolate. Green & Black's organic white chocolate, flavored with bourbon vanilla, is a fine choice.

Remove the chocolates from their wrappers, and then break each bar into bite-sized pieces and place on separate plates that have been numbered from one through five. Seat yourselves around the table, breathe deeply, and feast your eyes upon this chocolate bounty. What are the similarities in color? Some pieces may have a reddish tinge, others will be as dark as coal. What are the differences in sheen?

Pass around the first plate of chocolate so that each friend takes one small piece. Break the piece in half. Does it speak to you? Can you understand its quick snap or dull thud? A quick snap indicates a well-tempered chocolate, which is the result of a fine chocolatier's attention to detail. Let one half melt slowly between two fingers. Does it melt quickly like butter? Is it smooth or gritty? Take a big hit of the chocolate aroma that is being released. Hold it. Hold it. Hold it. Now exhale slowly. Where did it take you? Been there before? Can you describe it? Just picked raspberries? Freshly mown hay?

Now that you know what the chocolate smells like, take a small bite and let this piece melt oh-so-slowly on your tongue. More inhaling and holding. Give it a couple of chews, and then open your mouth slightly and suck in some air. This will help to carry the aromas up the back of the throat to your nasal cavity. Now the magical mystery tour begins. Is this piece of chocolate going to reveal itself quickly or will it play coy? Will it start off with a heavy acid hit before the fruitiness enters the picture or will the luscious fruitiness reveal itself right from the beginning?

What do you taste? Stick with easy descriptors like sweet, salty, bitter. Then move on to your library of taste memories. Does it taste like fruit or dirt? Did it start off tasting like fruit, move into tasting like dirt, but then finish off tasting like tobacco? Now your entire mouth is getting into the groove. The fat is carrying the flavor around and around and around. The sugar is kicking in and pushing the fruitiness even higher. How high does it go before it mellows down into a smooth, long finish? Or does the trip end in a crash, with no lingering flavors? Bummer. But did you like it? Does it satisfy you deeply? Would you crave it? Are you ready to take it lighter and sweeter? Or darker and richer? But most important: Will you still respect yourself in the morning?