Turkey Jerky

Surprise! I found another item from Anastasia's box of British (etc.) snacks. I thought I'd eaten them all, but I was wrong. A Fry's (now owned by Cadbury) Turkish Delight just popped up out of the ether.




"Full of Eastern Promise?" If only that promise were fulfilled. It's funny how the trash can is lurking in the background of the picture above. That, ultimately, is where half of this candy bar was headed. I mean, the wrapper said I could mail it back if not satisfied, but international postage can be a bear.

This "Turkish Delight" is going to RUIN the Narnia books for me. How in the world did the White Witch entrap Edmond with something so jellied and floral tasting?* The flowery flavor snuck up on me, but it was undeniable and purposeful.

But it's chocolate-coated. Shouldn't that redeem it a bit? I suspect that no amount of chocolate on the outside could allow me to enjoy this, and in this case the chocolate doesn't tastes like it's of a particularly high quality.

I'm having bad luck with items described as Turkish, come to think of it. I'm no fool; I won't write off a whole country on the small sample of evidence I've gathered so far (especially as I don't think any of these have actually been manufactured in Turkey). I like the music. I like the hats. Someone tell me about something edible, yummy and Turkish. Quick!


* p.s. for further reading, I discovered this article.

Everlasting, schmeverlasting.

Another item from Tia's snack sampler was a box of Wonka Everlasting Gobstoppers, My opinion is that no one who has read Charlie and the Chocolate Factory or The Great Glass Elevator can ever be satisfied by the real-life Wonka brand candies. Actually, I'm usually disappointed by hard candies, but am not unhappy to give 'em a whirl (though I am suspicious of the eyelids at half mast on the anthropomorphized candy on the box pictured above).

So, these are "Jawbreakers that change colors and flavors."

Oh, do they?

GREEN tastes like lime, then maybe cherry, then turns a sickly green color that changes to yellowish and then is white and then pink. The flavor fades away from lime and cherry but never makes anything else of itself.

RED has that cherry candy flavor (have I ever mentioned that I like cherry Luden's cough drops?) and fades to light orange with maybe an orange flavor pretty quickly. Then the orange becomes brighter and more Tang-y. Orange fades and goes to whitish orange, then pink and sweetly sour. Then I get impatient and bite it in half. It is powdery white the rest of the way in to the center of its core.

PURPLE is grossly, cloyingly grape and fake tasting right off the bat, then becomes a dark pinkish red. Soon speckled with white, it gets generically sweet tasting and a darker pink-red. Maybe there's some cherry flavor in there, but it could be my imagination. Two white stripes develop on either side of the Gobstopper's equator at this point. It looks like a dark salmon pool ball. Then the stripes consume the candy until it is all white with a faint pink tinge and has a familiar sour candy tanginess (while still being sweet) and powderiness.

YELLOW has a strong "tastes like the way lemonheads smell" start as the color deepens and becomes more orange and then less orange. I notice those white stripes around the middle again before it gets pinky and starts breaking up. I'm tired of eating these now.

ORANGE is a solid ball of McDonald's orange drink in the big cooler at a playground picnic, but sweeter. The flavor changes a bit (but to what? It's kind of grassy) and the color goes yellow. White stripes come in around the center again (this probably happened on all of them) and then it's white and faintly pink and melting away. Crunch crunch.


p.s. I kept tipping the box over and then gobstoppers would roll all over the floor. This is not very stable packaging for something shaped like a marble. I didn't want to eat the whole box myself, but neither do other people want to share something I've dropped on the floor 6 times.

Raising a stylish eater

"I have a thermos bottle with cream of tomato soup," she said.
"And a lobster salad sandwich on thin slices of white bread.
I have celery, carrot sticks, and black olives, and a little cardboard shaker of salt for the celery.
And two plums and a tiny basket of cherries.
And vanilla pudding with chocolate sprinkles and a spoon to eat it with."
"That's a good lunch," said Albert.
"I think it's nice that there are all different kinds of lunches and breakfasts and dinners and snacks.
I think eating is nice."
"So do I," said Frances,
and she made the lobster-salad sandwich, the celery, the carrot sticks, and the olives come out even.

-- from Bread and Jam for Frances by Russell Hoban (pictures by Lillian Hoban).


I found a copy of this classic picture book for way less than a buck at a church basement sale in Cold Spring, NY. I remember reading this (and other Frances books) numerous times when I was a child. Perhaps those multiple readings of the book - terminating with the page quoted above, which I have made my profile quote for the time being (even though it meant displacing Werner Herzog, one of my honorary uncles) - led to my variety-is-the-spice-of-diet eating habits today.

A cautionary tale for picky eaters, Bread and Jam for Frances is also about aspiring to new heights when it comes to menu planning and school lunch eating. I'm sure my love of the book had something to do with my occasionally taking chopsticks or salt and pepper shakers with me to school in my lunch sack. If only I could have found a doily and a tiny vase of violets (two items Frances has on her desk at the end of the book) to complete the staging and styling of my "sack lunches," I'd have been in book-nerd-slash-food-nerd heaven.

Come to think of it, "desktop lunch stylist" doesn't sound like a half bad job title to me.