Comstock kiddie clearly forced to forfeit king size Kit Kat thanks to a puny Halloween pail
A breaking news bit for this year's crop of trick-or-treaters and 16-year-old scamps who solicit candy intended for those actually dressed in costume (we're on to you's kids!): Word on the virtual street is that the percentage of households handing out full, king and other mattress-size candy bars is expected to grow exponentially this year. Nuts to all that so-called "systematic" childhood obesity research - this is good news, peeps! Just be sure the circumference of your candy container (2 x pi x radius, yo) is conducive to this year's selection of supersized confections. Screw the once stalwart pumpkin pail. Call in the Smurfs pillowcase!
Eager to take their own pound of flesh from a once innocent Halloween holiday, Act II has introduced candy corn flavored popcorn. A candy corn enthusiast myself, I was hesitant when offered the new treat. But admittedly, the taste verdict was surprisingly positive. Although the appeal of the flavored popcorn is more in its rich candy corn scent than its candy corn taste, the experience is satisfying overall.
One could almost pat Act II on the back, except they had to take things a step too far. The box of pop corn suggests that Act II is a perfect Halloween handout; they even provide a "Fun Pops for Trick-or-Treaters" recipe. However, the candy corn popcorn is only available in huge boxes of tiny bags.
Take a moment to imagine, if you will, Halloween ten years down the road if Act II gets its way on All Hallows Eve. A child, all dressed up as his favorite spook or celeb, rings a doorbell. A woman comes to the door, asks "Trick of Treat?" The kid is no fool. "Treat," he says. She hands him some cake batter. Next house, same scene. Now the kid has a plastic pumpkin with some cake batter and a stick of raw sugarcane inside. Third house hands out a plastic-sealed bag of Act II Candy Corn flavored popcorn...
Point too abstract for you? That's just what Act II wants. Halloween is a no-assembly-required holiday. Leave the cooking, installing, plugging in, trying on, and gift exchanging for Christmas, Act II! Halloween is meant to be unwrapped and enjoyed... immediately.
There are certain things in life that theoretically make complete sense: extended warranties, Communism, drive-thru liquor stores, culottes, and carob. Free of refined sugar, preservatives, cocoa, caffeine and any other serotonin-releasing stimulants, carob confections are a well-intentioned alternative for the cocoa-intolerant and those who simply aren’t fond of chocolate (aka lying SOBs).
But when it came time to sample Goldie's Premium Carob Bars, the sweet choco-substitute had such an overbearing chalky texture and potent after taste that even I couldn't choke it down. And that's pretty bad considering this comes from a girl who used to consume her own makeshift peanut butter cups (3 parts frozen Yoo Hoo, 2 parts crushed peanuts). And while it hurts my heart to report that Goldie has created a vague approximation of the real chocolate deal, I know she'll appreciate the constructive criticism in the long run. Tough love!
Carol K pretty much set the stage for future candy consumption the day she sent us toddling off to school with a lunch consisting of Nutella slapped between two slices of crustless Wonder Bread. Mom sure did work some long hours; she must have been strapped for time that week. But thanks to her lackluster lunch packing (sorry, Mom), the Krozek kids developed a refined taste for creamy hazelnut / cocoa spreads and Rocher chocolates, the truffle-like candies that take a whole roasted hazelnut encased in a thin wafer shell (diagram above) and fill it with the same innards as the delicious, non-nutritious Nutella sammiches mother dearest used to make.
So needless to say, we were stoked to have stumbled upon a dark chocolate version of the Rocher: the Rondnoir. But as our pearly whites cracked through the crispy outer coating, we found the Rondnoir to be absolutely nothing like Rocher. The whole hazelnut nucleus characteristic of the Rocher has been replaced with a dark chocolate cream surrounding a black pearl of buttered-up dark chocolate.
We don't recall anyone complaining about the Nutella or hazelnut, Ferrero. You can't fool us. Did you really think you'd successfully execute the ol' one-two switcheroo? Now make with a hazelnut-infused Rondnoir... or else!
After sampling Green & Black’s Maya Gold bar last week, we had this idea to dip into the Bittersweetjesus piggy bank and book a trip to Belize so we could tour the factory where the fairtrade and organic chocolate bars are manufactured. But after cracking open ol' Piggy Sue, we found but a handful of pennies, an IOU dated 1998, and a folded-up cocktail napkin with the scribbled digits of some character named Raul. Curse you, NYC and your ridiculous cost of living! I even took one for the team and tried calling Raul (just sayin' hi!) to see if he or any of his investment banker cronies would be interested in funding the trip. Fella never even gave a courtesy call back. Stanks. But luckily the kind folk at Green & Black have the fiscally irresponsible covered [Ed. not talking about me here]. They have an all-expenses paid trip for two to the Cadillac of the Caribbean up for grabs. When you and your +1 aren't scarfing / wolfing / devouring their entire line of exotic fruit and spice-infused chocolate, the crew has arranged for mountain tours, kayaking, cave exploration and Belize Barrier Reef diving. Get thee to entering!
I ask you this: what other blog would dedicate not one, but TWO posts to defecating-animal candy dispensers? No one, that’s who.* And since our gal Kelly Downey and her pops got such a kick out of the Poo-lar Bear , they got to Googling and discovered there's an entire line of candy-crapping critters out there.
A downtown Seattle CVS (corner of Columbia and 3rd Ave) currently carries several holiday-themed characters: Penguin Pooper, Oh Deer, and Super Dooper Reindeer Pooper. But if you’re one of those destitute types who can’t afford the $5.99 price tag (read: me) and isn’t willing to wait for post-holiday price slashing (read: me again), at least you can poop, er, peep a few exclusive pics here.
Bittersweetjesus ((dot) blogspot (dot) hoohah) is on location this week... Seattle, kids! I would have liked to broadcast from northern neighbor, British Columbia, but I forgot a passport. Curses. Regardless, I'm having a fabulous time in the city ranked third highest in candy consumption (trailing only behind Boise and Portland). No wonder I fit in – sweet teeth are ingrained in the DNA of these Pacific Northwesterners; it’s the way of their people. Seattle even boasts several famous homegrown chocolatiers who I paid a visit and will be posting plenty of words about.
But until then, I wanted to share a kitschy Christmas confection already on the shelves of Seattle. The Poo-lar Bear - a revolting plastic polar bear that defecates cola and butterscotch-flavored jelly beans. Simply press down on the bear’s hindquarters for the tasty treat. The bear comes with .6 ounces of candy feces and transparent packaging lined with a cartoon Antarctic backdrop. Absolutely precious.
Be sure to check back throughout the week for a slew of Seattle coverage. Until then, I'll try to figure out who is deserving of the pooping critter candy dispenser.
These days, nearly 23% of conversation in the Bittersweetjesus office (aka Barcade on Saturday nights) revolves around our general disdain for nostalgic candies. From the toothsomely tame candy necklace to the mildly subversive bubble gum cigar, retro confections have maintained a presence on store shelves despite their tawdry taste and total lack of demand.
Think about it – when was the last time you saw someone walk into Economy or Dylan’s actually looking for wax bottles, Red Hots, or those strips of candy buttons that stick to the paper?
That’s what we thought.
So after two or three (or ten) Hefeweizens, we came up with a rather lengthy / illegible list of nostalgic novelties that should be banished for confectionary crimes. And each week, we’ll be highlighting one of these stoneage sweets, in hopes that their creators will halt production.
The series will run until we exhaust our expansive list, or this topic becomes stale like the dust-covered Nestle Crunch in Grandma Krozek’s pantry.
Since the first shipment of Autumn Mix was delivered to the 14th Street / Union Square location of Walgreen's (August 16th, fyi), I've made a point to consume no less than 2 bags of Brach's Candy Corn each week. And that's no easy feat, friends. Such copious consumption leaves little room in the ol' stomach for the onslaught of other Halloween candies out there - peanut butter pumpkins, vampire-shaped kit kats, and any one of a variety of snack-size sweets popping up in office lobbies as the holiday approaches. Straight up sucks.
But since Brach's is the ONLY brand to master the tri-colored treat - perfect parts sugar, corn syrup and honey - I will continue to pay homage. After all, the Brach's brand is proof that there are very few things in life more infrangible than the bond between a young gal and her candy corn.
So I've just become aware of a commercial spot epic spanning no less than 9 episodes that features Snickers (the KFC Famous Bowl of candy bars) in the hands of various “feasters” from the past. The premise: Snickers is such a feast that Norse Warriors will flee Valhalla; Pilgrims will abandon the Thanksgiving table; Caesar will leave a Greco-Roman wrestling match; and Native Americans will drop ritual tribal dances just to get their hands on one.
Each of the episodes (which are available on the tragedy that is YouTube) star the anachronistic comic quartet having wacky interactions as they travel through modern America in a beat-up sedan.
To be honest, I can't tell whether the characters have purportedly traveled through time, or they were simply kidnapped (frat-boy style) from strange historical refuges to take part in the feast.
In the most recent episode, a BP gas station has run out of regular Snickers. Needless to say, the viking is initially furious (after all, he did leave an eternal land of feasting for this shit). But upon learning that the new dark chocolate variety of Snickers is available, he is thrilled. He expresses both his rage and jubilee by tossing adjacent trashcans at a nearby vehicle.
I theorize that the episodes are all building to a Halloween climax, wherein we learn the truth of the characters' mysterious origins. Perhaps they'll take off their costumes to be revealed for the stoners that they really are. Or maybe, one by one, they’ll be zapped out of the car back to their own time (which is how I hope it turns out).
But what if, despite the promise sworn one night at a Motel 8, the viking sneaks a Snickers back through time to his homeland? I can see it now…
The viking brings the Snickers to a druid who divines the recipe and recreates Snickers in a cauldron. The cauldron, deemed dangerous to Iceland, is entrusted to the viking ships sent under Leif Erikson to explore America. The American settlers overindulge; lacking proper dental hygiene, they quickly lose their teeth. They can no longer tear into the juicy roasts and pig legs that have saturated their diet. They can't eat the buffalo and corncobs so popular among the natives. And that's why the viking settlement in America vanishes circa 1000 AD.
To cope with the wait, I guess I'll have to go out and try me a dark chocolate Snickers. Somehow I just can't imagine the dark chocolate mattering much, what with all that nougat and caramel and peanuts. But then, I'm no historian.
if there's one thing i've learned to avoid (aside from the obvious gym rat with outlandish pecs and underdeveloped calves), it's anything advertised as being low in sugar. sound science and research show that the sweetener of good ol' mother nature is not only a fundamental fuel for the brain, it's also what makes otherwise healthy food tasty enough to consume. think about it - where would count chocula be today without sugar? straight corn cereal bits; no marshmallows, kids. and just try choking down a chunk of unsweetened baker's chocolate. go ahead, i dares ya.
but despite evidence to support the positive effects of sugar, there are haters out there who keep throwing around funny little words like diabetes, obesity, hyperactivity, and cavities. our official stance: speculation. show us some numbers, scienticions!
but the hershey's team is sensitive to all the sugar-scared squares out there and has introduced it's Whole Bean milk chocolate bar with 40% less sugar than the leading milk chocolate bar. (i know, those words hurt my ears, too.) but after giving this toothsome treat a spin, i was pleasantly surprised. while not as melt-in-your-mouthy as it's sucro-laced counterpart, the Whole Bean bar brings a mildly sweet and smooth chocolate taste. it also contains a whopping 7 grams of fiber per serving (step aside, All Bran!)
the cons: hershey's use of "high-intensity sweetener" (read: an artificial sugar even i can't pronounce with 2 years of organic chemistry under my belt), which they claim necessary to give the chocolate a "well-rounded flavor." the bar also comes with a break-the-bank $2.50 price tag per 1.3-ounces. highway robbery!
consensus: a valiant effort. but when it comes to sugar, i say go big or go home!
this halloween season, the conscientious folk at hershey’s put together an online safety course chock full of tips intended to make trick-or-treat experiences safer ones. and with good reason – predators decked out in popular street wear (see hooligan pictured above) are out trolling the streets, offering up to trick or treaters half-eaten suckers laced with poison, drugs, and the occasional hypodermic needle.
but lucky for us, contributing writer steev sachs studied his little tookus off, passed the trick-or-treat training course with flying colors (see diploma), and shared all of the valuable information he accrued.
recently the hit-or-miss masterminds at the wonka candy company put the flavors of their fabulous runts candies up for review. one pictures charlie bucket, mid-fifties, dressed in wonka’s stale purple suit, seated at the head of a long table in a conference room beneath a massive smirking portrait of the godfather himself. he’s just wrapped up a reiteration of his dedication to getting every wonka candy into “rope” form. he sees the bottle caps exec open his mouth to speak. dreading the inevitable debate on whether cherry is really a soda flavor, he frantically shouts out the first thing that comes to mind: “so what’s new with runts?”
(suddenly you wonder whether the fan shouldn’t have had him after all.)
alas, what ensued is far more drastic than the inclusion of blue-raspberry or the sad replacement of lime with watermelon in the nineties. some disenfranchised tropical runts lobbyist seems to have bed the right oompa loompa and forced upon us the supposed-extinct pineapple flavor and its new bastard cousin, mango. what’s worse, these flavors have come at the cost of watermelon, blue-raspberry, and the stalwart classic cherry.
a brief but well-intentioned internet search turned up no press releases explaining the specifics of this stunning change. in fact, the wonka product website still taunts us with a picture of the old box – cherry, blue-raspberry, and even the bitter watermelon grinning like summertime—lackadaisical and already part of a vague and romantic past.
for the present, at least chewy runts have been spared the tropical fate of their rigid kin. if one can overlook the pruney grape pieces, there is some small consolation to be found inside the red plastic bag. beyond that, however, runts enthusiasts will likely have to wait ‘til april and pray that runts eggs will continue to feature classic flavors.
for my part, I'm reserving my quarters for laundry and the homeless - but still scouring bus stations and diners for a dusty quarter-machine full of all my old friends.
ladies and gents, it is with great pleasure that bittersweetjesus introduces it's newest (read: only) contributing writer, steev sachs. aka, steeveatsandwich
when steev isn't catching pokemon or watching sabrina the teenage witch, he'll be periodically crafting clever commentary about the candies he loves and the confections he loathes.
the above conversation is actually what landed steev this here position.
