The Well-Traveled Tongue.

Oog, these photos are blurry. I blame Blogpress. I am in formatting hell.

One of my coworkers vacationed in London last week. Like a total doll, he brought us back a bag of Cadbury sweets from Duty Free in Heathrow Airport.

Have you had this experience? When a coworker shares assorted treats with the office, I have to reign in my gotta-catch-em-all mentality. I'm a collector of tastes, and I like to try EVERYTHING. I can't count the number of parties where that has been my goal at the buffet (forget small talk). I also like to flip through every channel on the television before choosing a show (which is why we don't have cable) and at least glance at every single shoe at DSW before I exit. But these candies were for the group, and there are a number of us, so I held back and just tried a few varieties. I didn't take a Twirl or an Eclair or a . . .


Maybe I should go back to see if there are still some that need to be eaten.


But enough about me.

 

Cadbury Dairy Milk Caramel: The chocolate didn't taste like anything particularly special, and the caramel was absolutely liquid and drippy, but there was a depth of flavor to the caramel that one doesn't always find in modern, mass-marketed chocolates.

Cadbury Fudge: The fudge filling neither looked nor tasted much like fudge. The filling was light brown and almost granular. When chewed, the consistency was that of a moist candy corn. It seemed too sweet to me (not that fudge isn't sweet), too, and nowhere near rich or chocolate-y enough. I thought this was kind of a dud.

Cadbury Creme Egg Twisted: Many have said it before me, but the fact that we (in the USA) cannot get Cadbury Creme Eggs year round should embarrass every citizen of this country. Show me the government agency hiding our eggs until Easter. I'll fight 'em! That stated, this small bite didn't really work for me. It was too flimsy for the goopy filling inside, gone too quickly, and though it coated the inside of my mouth it didn't really satisfy.

Calling this a "Travel Mix" is kind of funny. I can't imagine how ill even I would feel after sitting on an airplane for several hours eating my way through the entire package. It's no trail mix, that's for sure. But these three bites were a pretty good way to start my work day.


N.B. Hey! this was my 999th blog post on Snackreligious. Stay tuned for a super-epic 1,000th post in which I do something ill-advised and possibly gross!

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London Swall'wing: Part IV -- The Flap About Flapjacks

This is an RJ Foods White Chocolate Flapjack.

At first glance, I'm stumped. This is not a flapjack. A flapjack is a pancake. Oh, sorry. I'm thinking with my US-American-raised food brain. The internet tells me a British flapjack is a traditional, dense, oat-based bar cookie.

Secondly, raisins?! I'm sorry -- sultanas?! In my white chocolate pancake bar? Oookay... but I'm really not that into raisins...

Tasting it reminds me of something (I'm typing as I eat it), but I don't know what. It's sort of a raisin-y power bar. Takes a fair amount of chewing. It has a very "Fig Newtony" flavor, if the outside and inside of the Fig Newton were blended together.

Yeah! A thick, raisin-y Fig Newton thing.  I liked the bites without raisins best.

And that was a snack review typed in real time. Pow!

• London Swall'wing: Part III
• London Swall'wing: Part II
• London Swall'wing: Part I

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London Swall'wing: Part III (Poetry Tuesday Edition)

Walkers

Too many cars too close
along the road to Trotsky's house
in Coyoacán.
It's hot. I wanted to go to London.
Sweaty-wet baby on me, we stop
at a gas station for water
and antiperspirant. No omnibus in sight.
I'm hungry, too,
and afraid to eat street meat. I
speak too much English; I feel rude.
No biscuits, no shortbread.
AeroMexico doesn't serve cookies.
And now, at the coyote fountain
We've walked too far
to see the bullet holes that were Trotsky's.
The baby won't even try our
helado de arroz con leche.
Blisters pulse. My bandaid slips.
I long for rain or fog.

• London Swall'wing: Part II
• London Swall'wing: Part I

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London Swall'wing: Part II

 

I heartily approve of the Toffee Crisp. I don't really taste toffee, but whatever. There's plenty of chocolate, caramel, and crisp rice cereal. The baby happens to be toddling over to bang on the keyboard, or I'd say more. It would all be positive, but would I compose an epic poem in its honor? Nah. It's no Jaffa Cake.

 

 Mr. Tom is peanut brittle, but easy on the glaze. The peanut flavor is allowed to come through without being drowned in sugar. Nor does it feel like it wants to break your teeth. I appreciate that in a brittle. Thank you, Germany  (Mr. Tom happened to come to London via Germany).

Hurry! Eat the candy!

(London Swall'wing: Part I)

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London Swall'wing: Part I

How bad is the title of this post? It's pretty bad. Bad enough that I think I like it after all. And I thought about it for all of 2 seconds, which is, I'm sure, clear. Sorry. You deserve more.

It's also clear that eating foreign chocolate doesn't make me better at puns. Because if it did, this entry would feature some actually clever verbiage. You see, I've dug into the bag of snacks Dan brought back from his recent trip to London. And I started with the chocolate.



So, are Cadbury Eggs not an Easter thing abroad? Because I would like to eat them all year. These Minis, too.



A Galaxy Bubbles egg is like a Cadbury egg, but filled with aerated Galaxy chocolate. Galaxy is an international name for Dove chocolates.  "Bubbles" is a funny name for a candy bar, if you ask me, but the texture was quite nice, and its rich flavor almost suggests hazelnut.

So many of their snacks are lovely. Why is "The Only Way is Essex" so boring?
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What is it with the violet flavoring, England?

Should things taste like they smell if what they smell like is flowers?

Does this chocolate taste like a little old lady might, if she were made of chocolate and perfume?

I'll never regret trying this Rococo violet chocolate (thanks, A!), and if you're in the mood for a floral novelty snack, or need to get a flowery friend a gift, you should definitely go for a bar, but I like Parma Violets just a bit better as an odd and edibly violet option.

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.

Poetry Tuesday: Drifting, Drinking

Anastasia sent this Chocolate Chai from England.

First snow, lofty flakes straining finer in time
Cats snore, bird rings bell, everyone hums
See the suet set outside, feeding feathers flick
Orange leaves waver beyond the stream of flakes
The path to the park is empty, there is someone on the path
Trees shrug open to white, bark stacked with papery edges

This tea in this thick mug steeped long minutes
I steep, cats and birds and suet and leaves in seedpods
Steeping, bits and bobs of spice swell and wilt
The kettle shifts as it cools, snow is milk and sugar
Pages of weather turn, things float down, whirling
Everything is pulled to earth and all a blanket
Cocoa in the tea and my toes tucked under me.


photo by Dan.

Cadbury and Cadbury

I found a few chocolate items from Anastasia's UK Snack Sampler rattling around in the back of the refrigerator (placed there on a very hot day because I was afraid they were melting at room temperature), so Dan and I tried them on our way home from Cold Spring on the train this weekend. Any blur in these photos is actually moving-train atmosphere, not blur. Got that?



Cadbury Flake bills itself as "The Crumbliest, Flakiest Milk Chocolate." That's accurate; it's not the least messy snack on a train. Inside the wrapper is a twig-like stick of chocolate. It looks like it is layers of chocolate folded back on itself, whorled almost like wood. This is milk chocolate throughout. There's nothing in the middle but more chocolate. No "center," no "crunchies," no nuts. It tastes a bit like Easter chocolate melted down and re-cast.



Flake wasn't bad at all, but I enjoyed the Cadbury Fudge more. When I broke the bar in half it bent before breaking, rather than snapping. "Feels fudgey," I decided. Inside is a sweet, dense, lighter colored fudge filling. Dan identified the flavor as similar to Rolos. There's a caramel "thing" going on there, though the texture is more like fudge than chewy or sticky caramel. I just ate 4-5 pieces of homemade peanut butter chocolate double-decker fudge a few nights ago, so I know fudge. This bar isn't quite being straight with me - it's more like an imitation of fudge, but it's pretty tasty for a candy bar.

Burning through the Pastilles

Only three other people got to try these Fruit Pastilles from Anastasia's UK Snack Sampler because all four of us enjoyed them (especially me) enough that they were soon gone.



Containing real fruit juice, these are chewy, sugar crusted gumdrop+haribo gummi fruit+lifesaver hybrids. Never bad, they only get better as they're chewed, finishing in a sweetly fruity way.

Smartie(s) Pants.

Not these Smarties, which will always be "Real Smarties" in my mind [Do not confuse our Smarties® with Nestlé chocolate Smarties.Copyright© Smarties® 2008. All Rights Reserved.
Smarties® are licensed to be sold in the United States and its possessions only.], but the chocolate candy kind that resemble M&Ms and are sold in countries outside the U.S.

I found a hidden cache of snacks from Anastasia's UK snack sampler, including a cardboard tube of "Other Smarties" (okay, they were in the refrigerator so they wouldn't melt).

There are eight colors of Other Smarties represented in differing amounts in my tube: orangey red (2), grass green (6), yellow (5), reddish purple (5), warm brown (2), sky blue (5), dull tangerine orange (5), and a bright pink (4).

I had heard that the individual colors tastes different from one another. The orange Smarties had a strong chocolate orange flavor. The red Smarties tasted faintly "red," and perhaps like cherry. Browns had a kind of sharp, bitter coating and yellows did have a citrus taste. The others were indistinctly flavored like chocolate and sugar (not unlike M&Ms).

Pause for disclaimer: I apologize to you all that I didn't have any M&Ms in the house to compare directly. I don't generally plan my snacks out thoughtfully enough in advance to do comparisons like this. Perhaps I've learned a lesson about responsible snack reportage I can use in the future.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch: Other Smarties have a good density and taste truly chocolatey. The orange was my favorite Smartie (Smarty?) by far. I'm not a M&M fangirl, though I like them in a "okay, sure, I'll have some" sort of way, and I don't prefer one chocolate candy orb over the other, but I would choose a whole tube or bag of the orange Smarties over any other color or assortment of Smarties or M&Ms.

No, I wouldn't eat the red ones last. So there.

p.s. Just because there are "No artificial colours or flavours" in there doesn't mean that insects aren't used to make some of the colors.

Black Jack

Before:
Licorice
gives me
the icks
even when British it sticks
in my craw.
Anise is always a flaw.*
(Though I never saw this kind before,
it's out the door).

After:
Licorice,
give me
a kiss.
I see now you're Irish
and that I've been childish
to call you a foe.
Here's less woe and more sweet:
Black Jack's a rare treat.


*exception: I can appreciate a shot of Sambuca after a heavy Italian meal, for some reason.
p.s. We're almost through the UK Snack Sampler! Oh, and have a happy Poetry Tuesday!

My five senses

(another import from the luffly Anastasia, as found in her overseas Snack Sampler)

Smiths (by Walkers) Chipsticks Ready Salted Maize & Potato Snack smell kind of bland and sour, like white bread plus shoestring potatos with an unfortunate twist.

Chipsticks look like french fries (or "chips," for you Brits) if they were made by a honeycomb-creating alien life form of some sort. They look like they should be studied under a microscope by biologists.

Chipsticks feel kind of oily and rough, chew like cardboard and styrafoam were fused together, and leave a slick residue on the tongue and roof of the mouth.

Chipsticks taste very (very) salty with an undercurrent of corn and a soupçon of potato. One might say the salt wallops one's taste buds like a Brixton skinhead with a tire iron. The flavor, like the smell, is fairly bland outside of the salt. Frankly, they taste a bit old.

Chipsticks sound like nothing until one bites into them. Then, they sound crispy at first, all the air in them making quite a crunch. Eventually the sound is more muted as they are compressed into a smishy stick-to-the-tops-of-your-teeth paste.

p.s. I like the packaging. It's demurely festive. It's a clown at the beach. It's litter outside an abandoned state fair booth in a Ray Bradbury story.

I say kär'məl, you say potato.

(from Anastasia, who sent the UK Invasion Snack Sampler)

So do you prefer kăr'ə-məl, kăr'ə-mĕl', or kär'məl?

I prefer Tunnock's Real Milk Chocolate Caramel Wafer Biscuits, thankfully "Still Original Size." Great width. It's an old-timey carnival of thick, caramel flavor. The wafers are nicely integrated with the caramel, leading to an expensively chewy-crunchy-melty-smooshy texture. A Tunnock's Caramel Wafter Biscuit tastes down-to-earth and popular;* neither high-falutin' nor exclusive; not sweetly condescending at all; and friendly. I found it mood enhancing, and I've got another.

Eating this was better than wearing borrowed expensive jewelry (sumptuous, edible, and anxiety-free).

Have you ever made caramel? It's like magic. Tunnock's...Chocolate Caramel Wafer Biscuits are like somebody else did the magic and didn't get your pots dirty. They're like the close-up magician at a fundraiser who cheerfully sets his wallet on fire for your own private finale and walks away with a wink as you're still applauding quietly and smiling a real smile at him. You have fond memories of that magician. Magic is cool.

High marks.



Beverage: All Natural Sapat Fantasy Masala-Chai Flavoured Tea. This is my favorite Indian chai mix. I first tasted it in Pittsburgh, PA which is where I bought my supply. I drink most teas and infusions without milk or sugar, but this variety I like with both.

"The boy is based on no one."


*popular in the sense of "Suited to or within the means of ordinary people" (The American Heritage® Dictionary of the English Language, Fourth Edition Copyright © 2007, 2000 by Houghton Mifflin Company. Updated in 2007.)

And I will eat them in the rain...

It's "Poetry Tuesday" on Snackreligious! For this week's installment, we're butchering us some Elizabeth Barrett Browning (even to the point of employing slant rhyme not in the original) because this delicious British snack made us a little crazy with delight.


How do I love thee, Jaffa Cakes?

How do I love thee? Let me count the ways.
I love thee to the depth and breadth and height
Of your orange, your Chocklate out of sight.
With all your cookies I'd stuff my Face.
I love thee to the level of everyday's
Most tasty snack, your sponge squishy and light.
I love thy flavor, but shared, as is Right.
I love to bite thee, and my mouth Obeys.
I love thee with a passion put to use
For most rare snacks, and love your box's faith
In "sports nutritionists," who love you, too,
So says the text*, --- I love thee with the breath,
Smiles, tears, of all my life! --- and, if God's cool,
I may just eat thee even after death.






* Perhaps my favorite packaging claims yet:
1. "Now even more orangey!"
2. "Each McVitie's Jaffa Cake contains lots of energy, and only 1.0g of fat per cake. That is why they are recommended by sports nutritionists." (emphasis mine)





Seriously. Yow! These are great! Thanks, Anastasia!

Hey, Walkers! Yeah, you in the pink bag!

(Another item from that box of goodies from Anastasia)

It has been a while since I've had a prawn. But there is certainly a seafood flavor to these crisps. They have a smoky sweetness, and I wonder if that's the MSG. I'm not scared of MSG, though. I go to no great lengths to avoid it and I've never noticed it giving me a headache.

Like the smoky bacon flavor I tried the other day, these are thinly sliced and do not stand up to much chewing, but I don't seem to mind anymore because this flavor is much better. Now, unlike with the smoky bacon crisps, the salt level balances rather than overwhelms. The flavor is a bit uneven; some of the chips individually were better than others. When eating them singly, I really liked the ones that swung away from the sweetness and toward the prawniness. Luckily, I don't have to eat them one at a time. I can chew them in great wads of crisp, sweet and sour prawnicity. And that's how I like them.

I'm guessing these small bags are inexpensive in the UK, which makes them a very good value for the money. If they are the British equivalent of my favorite 25cent bags of cheese balls, they'd be perfect, but I assume they're a little pricier than that. Still, I'd eat these again - fer sure - and am now wondering about the feasibility of planning a vacation with the goal of trying more flavors.

I kin taste the...alky-hol?

From the UK Snack Sampler: Maynards Wine Gums

On observing the package: "To be enjoyed as part of a healthy lifestyle." Nothing in the ingredients list resembles alcohol. "Contains sulphites."

The candy has emerged: They smell...sweet and yet wrong. Kind of sweaty sour. I see four colors so far: black, orange, red, green. Something is written on them. "SHERRYW?" "HERRYWS?"



Black: Sweet. Prickly. Chewing adds a weird meaty-fruity thing. I think I just grimaced.

Green: Lime. Less sweet than black. I appreciate the citrus aspect. Sour is our friend. Nothing like wine.

Red: Powdery at first. A little plastic under the flavoring. Flavor is thicker somehow. Kool-aid without a name.

Orange: Almost no scent. Orange flavor with an edge. Not unpleasant. Not without precedent; I think other orange candies have tasted like this. Sweet and sticky.

Eating all four flavors in a row made my tongue feel thick and wide, not to mention coated with sugar and gelatin. Then, I thought I saw a yellow one, but it turned out to be another orange one. Then I had to lie down for a while. Nah, they're not that bad. But the texture is a little more Jujube (the chewier update, not the hard original) than Gummi.

p.s. Wikipedia says these have no wine. "The name comes from the lingering, subtle fruit flavours that make it "similar to the experience of savouring a fine wine". In reference to this, the sweets have the names of alcoholic drinks on them, for example port, sherry, champagne, claret and Burgundy." Hmph.

p.p.s The black is anise. No wonder I don't love it.

Inside Out

Cadbury's Eclairs are penny-sized caramels with a bit of chocolate filling inside. They're a little harder and stickier than I like (I have to scrape that last hard and sticky bit off my teeth every time!) and the chocolate in the middle is only really evident if you suck on these instead of chewing, but I enjoyed the combination.

The caramel is sweet and rich, buttery without coming on too strong. Inside, the chocolate is smooth, milky tasting and just a bit thick. Though the two flavors complement each other, the caramel dominates.

I appreciate portability, so while having the caramels individually wrapped inside the outer tube of paper could be seen as wasteful packaging, it's handy when I'm carrying them around in my bag all day and it keeps them from melting together into a caramel lump.

Ultimately, I prefer the old chocolate-on-the-outside-caramel-in-the-middle candy standby, but I won't say no to these, especially if what I'm looking for is a snack that travels well.

Hey, Walkers! Yeah, you in the burgundy bag!

Lays is calling. They want their logo back. Oh, wait. You're doing that on purpose?

Anyway, Bacon is holding on the other line with a complaint. You're besmirching its good name.

And Salt sent a gift basket with a note: "Pleasure doing so much business with you. We planned to back off a tad, but if you're sure you want us to keep coming on overstrong, we're happy to oblige."

p.s. Perhaps I've gotten used to kettle chips, but why are your crisps so thin? It's like an initially crispy, paper thin potato slice that just rolls over and smooshes itself up in the mouth. Good smokiness, though.

Adventures in advertising

When I see "Now with xx% less fat!" on a package, I always wish I'd gotten to try the original full-fat variety. Because what if the situation is like that of 3 Musketeers bars, which are nowhere near as good as when they had more fat? These Nik Naks (sent from the UK) claim that although they contain "50% less saturated fat than in 2005" they still have the "same great taste." I wonder.

Another claim on the packaging is: "Nice 'N' Spicy Flavour Knobbly, Freaky Sticks of Corn." I assume that this means that Nik Naks come in other flavors.

Me? I'd say this one is better described as "Not Bad Sweet 'N' Sour Flavour Knobbly, Freaky Sticks of Corn-Flavored Foam." There's a slight onion flavor under the vinegar sour-sweet coating, and the texture is that of a lighter-weight Cheeto. But they're maybe more "loosely inspired by corn" (like Capitaine Achab, the odd little French film I saw last night at Lincoln Center, was "loosely inspired" - or some such wording in the credits - by Moby Dick).

I might eat these again, but overall I prefer NicNacs.


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p.s. In other snacking news, we've been eating a whole wheel of cheese at work. Seems to be cheddar. Yum. And today Wendy brought two kinds of brownies (which reminds me, the name "No Pudge" embarrasses me as much as the idea of a no-fat brownie offends me, but I have made them myself in desperation - once, it was the only mix in the store - and the brownies are actually pretty good), while Caitlin returned from a trip with assorted See's chocolates.