You know those chocolate ice cubes from decades ago. They came in silver foil and they had a delicious milk-chocolate-hazelnut flavor. They were made by the German company, Alberts (Moritz). With the heavenly flavor of Nutella spread. But in a melt-in-your-mouth chocolate. Yes, those are the ones. Well, when I was a kid I fell in love with them. Today they are still available, packaged in gold foil this time, though they are admittedly hard to find. But to me they represent not merely a vintage candy from a retro era, but a piece of nostalgia.

As with music from my childhood, when I feel nostalgic, it's not because I love the taste--though I do. Nostalgia attached to sensuous objects like chocolate ice cubes happens because of the memories I associate with them.

There's other nostalgic candy I yearn for...the flaky, layered Whatchamacallit candy bar...the long, taffy-like Charleston Chew...those little Brachs mix candy...they all have good associations from childhood. But it's the chocolate ice cubes that really hit me each time I experience them again, because of my dad.

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My dad used to take me with him to art fairs. You know art fairs--those craft displays in malls on the weekends, where you can find handcrafted jewelry and country wall hangings and stuff. Dad displayed his wares, and I wandered all over the mall. (Yes, in those days, it wasn't so weird for young kids to wander on their own around shopping malls.) At certain malls, my first stop was usually Woolworths.

The chocolate ice cubes would be in a bowl by the checkout counter--a nickel a piece. You know that scene in the 70s version of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, when the boy looks at the gold-foil-wrapped chocolate bar like it was the answer to all his prayers? That's what those little foil-wrapped hazelnut cubes looked like to me.

I liked how neat they looked and their square shape--kind of the way the first scoops of ice cream from a square carton looks--neat and blocky.  Somehow, that made them more creamy.

Like the greedy kid I was, I'd buy as many as I could. I'd take them back to dad and my brother and I would eat them.

I spent many summers with Dad this way. My parents had split up when I was young--today, even the word "divorce" has a kind of nostalgic feel for me--isn't that strange?

I was a "child of divorced parents." That was considered tragic then, though in my experience, the big tragedy wasn't the split itself, but how precious my time with dad become afterwards.

Since dad lived in another city, days with him were like those hazelnut chocolates. Pure fun, and I snatched the opportunity whenever I could get it.

Now, I associate Charleston Chews with him, too. That was the candy I got when he exhibited at street fairs. They weren't easy to find even then.

But chocolate ice cubes are, well, plainly delicious. I like hazelnuts okay, but they can be kind of bitter. Yet when mixed with chocolate, the hazelnut flavor is nirvana.

I've tried to make my own chocolate ice cube candy with ground hazelnuts, using recipes I got off of the Internet, and they just weren't the same. So I ordered some chocolate ice cubes over the Internet (unless you live near the Vermont Country Store or someother big retro retailer, buying nostalgic candy is limited to tourism and online). And I tasted them again.

I was a bit disappointed. They were still delicious and so very creamy. Maybe not quite so hazelnut-tasting as I remembered. And I looked at the ingredients on the label and saw "partially hydrogenated coconut oil." Trans-fats are anathema to me now. They were not something I'd let my own child eat today.

But then it hit me. My dad had died recently. And that, you see, is what was missing. Being with him at the mall. The dashing over to Woolworths and seeing if they had any chocolate ice cubes in stock.

The excitement of his presence underlay everything I did back then when with him during those visits. And for that reason, Nutella, though it tastes as delicious as those chocolate ice cubes did, doesn't do it for me emotionally. And chocolate ice cubes do.

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