The initial facade Melissa presents is very appealing: of a convincing brown not in fact too far distanced from some of Pralus' dark chocolates like the Madagascar. A good clean finish on the front hides a bit of noticeable swirling and bubbling on the back but on the whole the chocolate appears quite inviting.

Tragically, in this case beauty proves only skin deep. Aroma is faint and evanescent, mostly a sort of mild, mocha tone. The coffee component here evidences the same dark-roast bean treatment, and so perhaps that will come through in the flavour, but the aroma is just not there. Some suggestions of cocoa do their best to relieve the rather creamy tedium but this isn't a chocolate that appears to be going very far.

Indeed, the flavour as feared never materialises. There is an initial hint of hazelnut, that all-too typical harbinger in many milk chocolates of flavour gone AWOL, and then the chocolate dissolves into a sweet, sugary pool. Indeed, the bar reminds one much more of fudge than chocolate - and white fudge at that. As if to echo that sentiment, the texture, furthermore, is equally fudgy and coarse, with a dryish mouthfeel that does nothing for a chocolate that already had little to show.

Pralus, in common with a lot of other elite manufacturers who apparently have their focus fixed squarely on dark chocolate, can't deliver anything special in his milk chocolate. One cannot quibble overmuch with these chocolatiers' priorities that dark chocolate must come first, but when the milk chocolate feels entirely like an afterthought, perhaps it would have been better for these chocolatiers, Pralus included, not to have bothered at all. Cluizel shows us how it's done: there is never the slightest suspicion he's devoted any less than the same sort of obsessive attention he would for a dark chocolate to his milk chocolates, and the result is milk chocolates that are truly special. If Pralus doesn't have the time or resources to go that far, he might more realistically think of dropping the milk chocolate altogether.

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Even for a milk bar, Pralus aces appearance, delivering yet another beautiful bar to behold, and again through a plastic wrapper which isn't ideal, but...oh well. The shade is tan, similar to a pecan, adequately dark for the percentage as a whole, but the aroma is not. It’s mild and slow to develop, but eventually smoke and strawberries appear with a subtle milkiness as well.

Just like the aroma, the flavor takes forever to unfold. Caramel tones eventually appear but then transition into smoke, then strawberries, and finally a subtle stretch of acidity throughout the rest of the length. It’s a lovely flavor, actually, providing a distinct contrast yet the execution is too subdued to be enjoyable. More power would be ideal, especially more chocolaty impact.

Despite the great flavor, the chocolate still disappoints, especially in the texture department, which is notably fudge-like and not as smooth as a 45% milk could be. Although the flavor, on its own, is common for Pralus, its intensity is anything but and can be best equated to a heavy metal concert heard from miles away. Loud music and Pralus’ chocolate should be enjoyed unadulterated, in their unbridled density, not at stifled volumes. Indeed, considering the boldness of Pralus’ dark chocolate, I was expecting a strong and forceful milk candidate, one that could potentially rank among the best in the world.

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