Freeze Frame

­­When I was a kid, my grandmother lived just up the street from my family’s house and my aunt’s house. Our veritable family compound laid claim to a rather isolated, wooded parcel of rural land and often made it feel as if we were the only ones in the world. On most days, when me and my cousins got home from school, while the parents were still off at work, we would get together at our grandparents’ house for carousing.  On the days when we weren’t taking turns at Air Zonk or Keith Courage on the Turbo Grafx 16, we were usually outside, sweating through the sticky afternoons. We played basketball, one-on-one kickball (a modified form of soccer played with an under-inflated, smaller-than-soccer ball) and ragball (it’s a baseball that is made of rags stuffed inside of a sewed rag shell, perfect for not hurting each other or the house).  The formula of life then was so elegantly simple: play ourselves into a sweaty lather, retire inside to sit in front of fan, find some drink and sugar to refuel our engines, repeat.

This thing would thump against the house's siding with great regularity.

A lot of the time, we drank huge plastic glasses full of RC Cola on ice, the lifeblood of my grandmother, who was never then without her 32-ounce Rubbermaid mug, replete with bendy straw.  To this day, I have had no other cola that has quite the fizz and bite of RC poured directly over ice.  The effervescent, almost painful first gulp of an RC crackling over ice is a vivid, cherished memory of my youth.

Fizzy elegance.

On some days, though, RC was not enough to rally us.  On such days, another go-to solution was to invade the stand-alone freezer off in the back room.  Sometimes, there were fudge sickles or ice pops, and of course, on hot summer days, those were hard to resist.  More often, though, we had only the default option to sate our need for sweet: milk chocolate holiday idols. At any time of year, no matter the date – no matter the date – there were giant milk chocolate Easter bunnies or Santas to eat.  Our family came from modest roots, and whenever there was a deal to be had, my grandmother eagerly stockpiled provisions for us in the freezer.  Seemingly endless roasts, packages of hamburger meat and chickens sat alongside bags and bags of half pound chocolates, emblazoned with bright orange “$0.25” clearance stickers.  The chocolate was so ubiquitous that we were often tired of it.  If you thawed one bunny or Santa, you had days of eating ahead, and if you put it back into the freezer to keep it from melting, it would often get freezer bite and turn into that chalky, white thing that chocolate does.

I would have sworn that sometimes these things were reproducing in the freezer.

I remember this time of life not only because I have been missing my grandmother recently, but also because today, I think she would be proud.  On this day after Valentine’s Day, I went out and hit 4 different locations, stocking up on over 10 pounds of discounted candy.  For months hence, when people visit my home, they can raid my larder, like we kids did the freezer, and find for themselves the fuel they need to go out for another round of whatever game they are playing. They will just have to deal with the fact that, for the time being, it is all heart-shaped.

Stately Pleasure Dome

There are varying opinions of globalization and its impact on cultures, governments, economies and personal identities.  Many argue that international corporate conglomerates, for instance, are the twenty-first century's Mongols, invading and pillaging other cultures, impressing their values upon those they conquer.

Pictured: Microsoft, circa 1258

While such critiques may point to disturbing trends of late Modernity, it is undeniable that the forces of globalization have also effected positive outcomes, among the greatest of which must be the proliferation of border-crossing candies, a product of global exchange of a kind that Arjun Appadurai might term the "Sugarscape."

I encountered an artifact of such exchange at a shop that I frequent often.  There, alongside the Haribo Gold-Bears I have come to know and love, were "Juicy Haribo Gold-Bears," in packaging I had not seen in American stores.  Upon closer inspection, I found that these Bears were 20% fruit juice and included these flavors: blackcurrant, pear, apple, raspberry, peach and lime.  The flavors immediately reminded me of a package of Haribos my friend had brought back from West Africa-- Bears that bespoke her dedication to our friendship and that reflected the global flows that define Euro-African life.  Indeed, a closer inspection of my find revealed that these Bears were from Turkey, likely of the same type I had eaten years earlier.  My inevitable conclusion was this: Euro-Bears, chock-full of real fruit juice and exotic (for American markets) flavors, had made their way to my little hamlet.  I was shaking with glee as I walked the package to the counter.

Fruit juice, real sugar, lime gummis?  Salivary glands overload.

My excitement was magnified when the shopkeep asked for only 1.06 for the nouveaux Bears.  After I quickly shoveled my monies across the counter, lest she reconsider the price, I hurried back to the candy aisle to confirm that these new candies were priced at a mere $0.99 (their American contemporaries cost the typically over-priced $1.99).  Needless to say, I cleared out the aisle of the Juicy Bears, and for weeks, I came back assiduously to grab at least a bag or two per trip.

You know the rest of the story: like a blackcurrant berry plucked from its shrub and inadvertently dropped into the grass, this era of unprecedented flavor and thrift soon soured, and I found the Juicy Bears priced at an outrageous $2.69.  I still occasionally buy a bag, because, well, they are Haribos; but the thrill, as they say, is gone.  Ironically, the increased demand for the Bears, fueled by my voraciousness, likely led to the shop realizing their pricing was too low.

Nevertheless, for a period of about 2 months, I was king of the world, a true beneficiary of global forces, an example of the fact that not all Mongols should be turned back at the gates to the city.

Skittles' Dark Side? Scary That They Think So.

I know I am on a Skittles rant of late, and I will move on in the next post (I promise).  However, after being disappointed by the Riddles, I was looking for some sort of reason to fall back in love with Skittles.  Therefore, when I saw the newest U.S. offering, Skittles Darkside - tagline: "the other side of the rainbow" - I immediately snatched them up and snuck (I refuse the proper conjugation "sneaked" on principle) them into my theater viewing of Argo. 

My opinion of them is colored (get it-- colored... rainbow... HUH?!) by many of the same concerns as I expressed in my Riddles post.  First, there are repetitive flavors: "midnight lime" is just "lime," and "blood orange" is not markedly different from "orange."  In addition, "dark berry" is simply a rehashing of one of the Mixed Berry Skittles line, and the "forbidden fruit" seems like a melon/punch type deal, again already addressed by Skittles.  The only really innovation here is the Pomegranate flavor, the "it" flavor of the decade for candies, juices and other edible items (see the surprisingly good pomegranate Tootsie Pop). 

The dark blue bag is nicely judged.  I wanted to pick up this bag.

All this said, I am live eat-blogging these Skittles even now, and I am not having the same kind of negative reaction I had with Riddles.  True, there is nothing "Dark" about these flavors, and so, there is no theme that binds these offerings; however, I find I like the candies.  I am not wild about the forbidden fruit or the berry flavors, but the pomegranate is good, and I have always liked lime and orange.  So, while there is nothing great about these Skittles, there is nothing that offensive about them, either.  Therefore, I give them a moderate endorsement.  A tip that real candy eaters probably already know: if you choose to "taste the rainbow" at once (eat a handful instead of anally separating the Skittles into colors), you will get a better Darkside experience.  A melange of flavors, where Red 40s and Yellow 5s seep together in harmony, is the way to go for sure.

Skittles Cannot Solve Riddle of Brand Extension

Once again, M&M Mars has missed the mark with one of its seemingly endless stream of brand extensions-- this time, the Skittles Riddles.  I got a package of these Skittles in my Xmas stocking (that's right: it's still happening!), and it was about the third time I had encountered the Riddles.  If you are unfamiliar with this candy, the basic premise is that the color of the Skittle does not tell you the flavor contained inside.  The flavor, therefore, is a "riddle" to be solved by the consumer.  The Sphinx's riddles these ain't, however.  Rather, these Skittles are an ineffectual assortment of odd flavors that, once identified, still do not imbue the consumer with the sense of glee that should accompany the eating of great candy.  First, the "punch" flavor is so generic as to be forgettable.  Second, the strawberry is an original flavor, which is disappointing to the Skittles purist: so few new ideas, eh Skittles?  Third, the apple flavor represents a kind of over-turning of American fans' wills, as people like me voted to keep the apple flavor from replacing the original lime Skittle in 2001 (check this old thread). Finally, the raspberry and watermelon flavors are OK, but boring, hardly enough to support a new line of Skittles. The fact that colors do not match flavors matters little when the flavors are so uninteresting.

The colors of these Skittles do not exactly make one salivate, either.  They look like the colors that toddlers get when they over-mix their finger paints.

This failure supports my general opinion that candy extensions are often sub-par.  Readers may remember, for example, my invective take on tropical candy brand extensions.  People might also simultaneously remember, though, that in the same post, I praise the Sour Skittle as one of the turn-of-the-century's greatest achievements.  So ultimately, the fact that the Riddles are on close-out at the local Kroger's and out of stock in most online candy stores (suggesting their imminent discontinuation) is only marginally pleasing to me.  I would never want to stifle the potentiality of brand extension candy.  For every travesty, like the chewy Spree, there are triumphs, like the Sour Skittle or Gummi Sweetart.  Yes, the Skittles Riddles are a big flop, but they are perhaps a stepping stone to future innovation, and we can all get behind that.

Honorable Mention: Marshawn Lynch

Today marks the beginning of a new feature here on the Candied Life: a serial tribute to those who have helped the candy cause.  These men and women are sometimes pioneers, but also sometimes just people who like candy and represent that affinity in their everyday lives.

Today's honoree just scored what should be the decisive score in an NFL playoff game for the Seattle Seahawks.  He is one of the NFL's greatest talents, a man ripped with muscle and impossible to tackle with just one defender.  One would think that this man would only pour protein shakes and probiotics into his body; however, this athlete, running back Marshawn Lynch, is a Skittles fiend.

Last year he was famously seen being fed the Rainbow of Fruit Flavors on the sideline during a game, and since, he has become a kind of icon for the candy.  After fans began to throw Skittles onto the field following Lynch TDs, the league, being the grouchy old men that they are, told Marshawn to chill out on his fruity fervor.  Undaunted, Lynch wore Skittles-themed cleats during a game and swiftly received a $10,000 fine for his enthusiasm. 

This is the kind of dedication in the face of persecution that in a perfect world we would all demonstrate, and because of his use of his high-profile career for the advancement of candy, Marshawn Lynch is here honored.

I'm Back, Baby! And With Halloween Just Around the Corner!

If you will excuse the pun (it's been about a year since I had the chance, man), it is a sweet time of year.  Fall has brought with it cool breezes, mutli-colored foliage, and blazing backyard fire pits.  The cruel oppression of the sun is at an end, and harvested crops have left field after field of empty rows: a beautiful symbol of bounties past and deferred.  It has also ushered in October, the month that concludes most gloriously with the candy Bacchanalia we call Halloween.

Oh, would that I could go back in time and kiss the pagans that began to worship the lesser deities.  If only there were a way to impart to them the positive and lasting impact they have had on my life.

Alas, barring a surprise visit from Bill n Ted, there is no way to do so, so once again this year, I look forward to honoring the pagans the best way I know how: by hastening my inevitable descent into to Type 2 diabetes.  Therefore, I will pull the old "What's that?!" routine with young kids so that I can steal their pumpkin pails; I will hunch over beneath a sheet and squeak out my most juvenile "Twick orw tweet" to increase my confectionary tally; and I shall sit in my car on November 1 waiting for Target to open.  Faithful readers know why.

Candy Teeth

I got the candy teeth today, readers. You know, the "tenderness" in the teeth after a night of particularly involved candy consumption?

Yeah, I went Haribos, Sour Patch and SweeTarts. Those who truly eat candy know that Haribos' tough waxy exterior alone can give you the teeth-hurt; add SweeTart crunching and the sour of the Patch Kids (also a classic hurtener, in excess), and I got me the candy teeth.


Soft dishes for dinner tonight.

Dum Dums and Mystery

The Dum Dum Pop is a classic. That is not to say that it is the greatest candy of all-time, but is it a true classic. Today, in fact, while visiting family at home, I went into the bank of my childhood and got my free Dum Dum. The same has been happening for at least the last 25 years or so (since I can remember). And that's what's great about the Dum Dum-- they are small and super cheap, so places like banks and museums have no problem giving out these suckers every day they are open. Today I opted for the perplexing Mystery flavor of Dum Dum, eschewing my usual pick of root beer or lemon. By the way, before I continue, the massive variety of flavors is the other great thing about the Dum Dum. Why would I go for strawberry or any other pedestrian flavor when cotton candy or mango are in the mix? (I say that knowing full well that lemon, a standard for me, is quite common; and I say that knowing that historical flavors like buttered popcorn were nasty.)



ANYWAY, I got the mystery one today. It was colored blue, but that doesn't mean a thing. Your coloration schemes cannot fool me, Spangler Candy! You will have to do better than that. Actually, the blue coloring does seem to mean that the flavor cannot be blue raspberry or the like, as that would be too obvious; but, the first lick of the pop told me that, as well--or did it? The first taste gave me vanilla or cream. I at first kept looking at the blueness, and that held me up for a moment, but I fought through it. The problem is that there may be no one flavor one is looking for, at least according to a number of reports. Those reports say that the mystery pop is actually a mix of two flavors that results from production admixture. They argue that the mystery pop is a way to cover a potential loss due to non-pure sucker production. **I feel like that last statement implies some racial undertones, but they are not intended. Let's not bring our racial politics to the Dum Dum table, people.


While I am inclined to believe this mixed-dum-dum story-- as the marketing potential for "revealing" or holding contests to see who could identify the mystery flavor each year could be boons to the Dum Dum brand image, something the company could not do if the mystery flavor is some happy mistake--I will for the sake of this story and my sanity say that I was looking for a single unique flavor today. That said, I think what I ate was a butterscotch pop. However, having eaten a ton of butterscotch candy, and given my first impression that the pop was vanilla-y, I can see how this pop may have been a dirty hybrid pop. Maybe some cream soda in there? However, in that case, whence came the blue dye? It was a murky blue, clearly mixed with the white/cream dye, but why blue if it were a hybrid of butterscotch and cream soda? Are my taste buds so easily fooled?

All these questions vexed me for about 15 seconds, because I am a biter. I cannot sit there with so small a pop in my mouth and not crunch it very quickly. So, the mystery lasted but for a few seconds, but man what a few seconds. It took me right back to being 8 and waiting in the drive-through for the tube to bring me and Sis a sucker. Good times.

New Tootsie Pop Flavor: Banasty

I have railed in the past about the horrors of artificial banana flavoring, right? If I haven't, I should have by now, cause that stuff is nasty. I know I spoke of the stupidity of meshing banana with various leper fruit flavors (kiwi-banana or banana-passion fruit) in "tropical" candy lines. But for the record, all banana-flavored candy is the worst. The worst, Jerry! The worst.

That's why I'm surprised that the Tootsie corporation has released upon the unsuspecting public a banana Tootsie Pop. Yeah, that's right: among the chocolate, cherry, grape and orange pops, there are now bright yellow-wrapped banana pops. Yuck.

Here you go: the end of the Tootsie Pop.

There are so many reasons why this is a bad idea, but chief among them is the fact that banana candy sucks. It never tastes like banana, and even if it did, why would I want that flavor in my candy? The citrus fruits are the gold standard, and all pretenders to the throne need to take a seat and let the big boys handle the business in flavor country. Sit your ass down, banana. No one wants you here.

And Tootsie, what the hell, man?

Free Gummis!

A friend just gave me a bag of haribos! BOOYAH!

Valentine's Day!!

I just did a quick search of this blog, and I was shocked to find no official celebration of Valentine's Day and its candies. I work to rectify that oversight here:

Valentine's Day is likely (still a little reluctant to bad-mouth other holidays) the best holiday out there with respect to candy. Perhaps this is because the holiday is so very commercial, almost certainly evolving in a boardroom somewhere, as ad execs sought to siphon off more late winter money from consumers. With an eye already to the markets and a cultural tradition of men giving chocolates to women as a sign of affection, Valentine's Day's close association with candy was a foregone conclusion from the get.

Still, faithful readers might wonder, why do I hold aloft a holiday that is so closely tied to chocolate? Haven't I argued that chocolate is best though of as 'food,' and don't I consistently trumpet the powdery, the fruity, the chewy, the gummi? Well, yes, I do, but the crucial point is this: these preferences are not mutually exclusive to this holiday.

First, as I have said at an earlier date on this blog, the SweeTart heart is the world's most perfect candy. You will remember that my love affair with SweeTarts began early in my life. The addition of the SweeTart heart was a powerful moment in my formative years, and indeed, the form continues to improve. This year, the heart has become flatter, more rounded and includes more varied and whimsical love-related expressions. The rounded, flatter shape allows for lengthier chomping sessions (as jaws and teeth are not as fatigued).

These classic, less-teeth-friendly morsels will always have a place in my heart (huh? HUH?).

In addition, the last few years have seen the SweeTart heart fold in the orange flavor one finds in the traditional SweeTart package-- a welcome reunion. Finally, the value one gets in a SweeTart hearts package is ridiculous. Until the last year or so, one could get a 7-oz bag for .99, and even now, the 1.25 cost is very reasonable. (Think of paying .79-.89 for a regular 1.8 oz roll of SweeTarts). Indeed, this candy alone makes a compelling case for Valentine's' supremacy in the holiday candy racket.

But the brilliance does not stop there! A second boon to the season comes in the form of jelly/juju hearts. Again, I have covered the greatness of jellies on this site. And, similar to SweeTart hearts, jellies are among the best candy values to be had. The jelly hearts are no exception. One often gets 10 ounces or more for .99! I say "often" because the jelly heart is difficult to nail down as a singular object. First and most notably, there are both cherry-flavored and cinnamon-flavored varieties widely available. This is a great benefit, as the cherry heart is great, and the cinnamon heart puts one in mind of the cinnamon bear, one of candy's real pleasures. Also, main-stream corporations like Brach's and Necco produce these hearts, but they are also produced in generic form by places like CVS-- this healthy competition allows for subtle variations in the form, while maintaining a relatively consistent flavor. Finally, one can find both unadorned jelly hearts and ones covered in sugar. For those (like me) who enjoy the classic chew of a plain jelly, we have plenty of choices; and for those who like a textural contrast, sugar-covered hearts exist.

These originals have that nice imperfect veneer that is so very enticing. Like Edward James Almos.

But the Valentine's candy experience is not defined alone by good values and heart-shaped goodies. There are, of course, the afore-mentioned chocolate options aplenty. The more recently produced Reese's heart is just one of the more awesome developments.

Not the item, but that this pic is on google images is kinda telling.

And let me say again for the record that I fucking love chocolate. The eating experience is different, but a good chocolate is hard to beat. Most would agree that Valentine's is most associated with the box of chocolates, a special kind of eating experience. If variety is the spice of life, then the Whitman's Sampler is the spice rack of candy. Just glad there aren't any coriander-flavored dark chocolates up in there.

Look at that. It's so classic and sleek. It makes me nostalgic for something I never experienced. Simulacra, ya'll.

I could go on and on, and I am sure I will on this blog. But it is enough to say that Valentine's is a special time of the year and should have its own Peanuts special or some shit.

Stocking Achieved!

This is the actual take this year.

The tradition carries on another year! Let's keep this going till I am like 80, parents!!

Hey, Netherlands: Dit smaakt slecht

My brother just got back from the Netherlands, and he brought me one of (apparently) their most popular candies. Not surprisingly, the candy is licorice-based. In my limited experience with "Old World" candies, natural flavorings are much more common that here in America. The company that produces the candy is "Oldtimers," and there are several varieties of their licorice. My brother brought me the "mildzoute" variety, which means, roughly, "mildly salted."

NOT TRUE, OLDTIMERS!!!! NOT TRUE!!!

I ate one of these candies. One. When is the last time I can say that of any candy? Possibly never. I think they must soak these things in the Dead Sea for a year or so. A herd of deer could lick on one of these for their entire lifetimes. And these are the "mildzoute."


There are, according to my brother and his Dutch friend, an extra salty variety-- for those who have just run marathons, I think. And, there are also just plain sweet ones, I think, but my brother would have gotten none of the pleasure from giving me something that just tastes good.

So, anyway, I am not trying to slam the Dutch, because I am sure that they have a rich and wonderful culture. But with the salt, Nederlanders-- back off a bit, man. You're wasting licorice here!

Thanks to Candy!

On this day of giving thanks, I give a shout out to all candies. Even the nasty ones like Good & Plenty. Hey, G&P, we know that you are trying. It's not your fault that you taste like chalk and butt.



Happy Thanksgiving, faithful reader(s)!

Food or Candy? Chocolate as Hybrid Treat

In my last story, I hinted at a real dilemma for me: is chocolate best categorized as candy or food? Of course, I understand that this question is rather ridiculous, because if you consider food anything that provides nourishment or (minimal)nutrients, then all candy is food. So, perhaps I should ask whether chocolate is dessert or candy... but perhaps that question does not really un-muddy the water, either. Regardless, I think that the subtext of these questions is valid: is chocolate candy? Perhaps a more direct question would help:

Is a Snickers bar more closely related to Jujy Fruit or a brownie?

For me, the answer is clear: the Snickers lives in Brownie County.

If you read my examination of whether gum is candy, "A Rose by Any Other Name," you already know that I understand that marketing is a key determinate in the cultural understanding of what constitutes candy-ness. So, let's leave that piece of the argument by the wayside for the moment. Of course, chocolate is marketed as candy.

My argument on this issue is more linked to the eating experience, the most important aspect of any discussion of candy. When I eat a handful of Reese's Cups or pound down a Mars bar in like 5 seconds flat, I equate that experience to eating a brownie or noshing a Little Debbie cake. That experience is dessert. It is a sweet treat, but it is not a part of the Candied Life.

Does this dessert look like a "candy" bar to anyone else?

I think that perhaps for me, the key is that the flavors of chocolate "candies" can very closely be replicated at home. Sure, one cannot quite get the nougat or milk chocolate exactly the same as Mars does in the Snickers bar, but really, isn't milk chocolate with peanuts and caramel pretty easily reproducible? Again, I reference the brownie, and add to the list fudge, german chocolate cake and any number of other carriers for these flavors.

Now, I also know that one can, for instance, make his own gummis. Friend to the blog Seamus McGee once sent me a recipe for said. However, it is very hard to perfect the proper ratios of artificial flavors to red 40, and it is those ratios that relay the true gummi experience. Also, I don't know how one would ever reproduce the chalky brilliance of a SweeTart or the puckering sourness of a Sour Patch Kid.

In addition, eating chocolate is simply a more filling experience. There is more foody substance to these things, and when I eat them , there is a limit to the bulk I can put down. Eventually, there is a limit to how many gummis I can eat, but usually, we are talking jaw fatigue or teeth pain as the determining factor to my cessation. 7 or 8 ounces of chocolate and I am done for the day.

All this is not to bash chocolate or to give it a complex. Granted, it will never ascend to the rarefied air of the fruity candies, but it should not feel bad about that. In the world, there are people that write ridiculously entertaining candy blogs, and then there are the rest. It's the way of the world.

To be fair, Haribo ain't never had no ad as sweet as this...

Halloween's Gift: November 1st

Tonight is the de facto last chance for most people's Halloween, as the holiday falls on a Sunday, and people would rather not have to get up for work after whatever debauchery they get into. Still, I would bet that the most important event surrounding All Hallows Eve-- the reduced price Halloween candy sale-- will not happen until Monday morning.

Oh, it will be a blessed day. Spooky Snickers, Booterfingers, and Whatchamakillits, all at reduced prices! At mega-stores like Walmart, they will probably start at -25% (the bastards) but at other places, one can find giant bags of 'fun size' candies at a full 50% or greater discount! This is the season when it is prudent to stock up on chocolate. Readers know that I am more of a fruity candy celebrateur, but that is not because I do not enjoy chocolate; rather, I consider chocolate more of a food product than a candy. I mean, is a brownie candy? What about fudge? Where is the line between baked good and candy? Will the world ever know?

Come here, my pretties...

Whatever the case, I am putting aside that debate for this weekend so that I can focus on the task at hand: filling the freezer with chocolaty morsels of all kinds. As I type this story, I am planning a strict regimen of squat thrusts and 'bow throws in preparation for the early Monday AM candy grab at the local department stores. It's not exactly Black Friday or anything, but if there is one bag of peanut M&Ms on the shelf, best to believe that it could get ugly. You don't want to be caught slippin when the prize can be had.

For those still handing out candy tonight and tomorrow, yours is the kingdom of heaven, my friends. Do the good work, and it will be repaid upon you threefold.

Mambas' Claim Leaves Sour Taste in Mouth?

I love Mambas. They are nice counter-points to Starburst, a welcome candy competitor in the chewy fruit market. In addition, Mambas have two unique qualities: First, their flavors include raspberry, which is quite rare in the US market (of course, this owes largely to Storck's primarily European market). Second, their packaging is entirely unique. For one, it is made for portability. Within each long package, there are three separate packages, each containing 6 chews of the same flavor. Also, there is an element of mystery each time you purchase Mambas, because out of the four flavors-- Lemon, Orange, Raspberry, and Strawberry-- there are only three in each large package. Sometimes you might not even get the raspberry flavor that I just mentioned. That can be frustrating, but on the whole, I kind of like the fact that you get some Forrest Gumpery each time you get Mambas.



All this said, I have an issue with Mambas and the Storck corporation. They have recently added a "sour" line to their product, and generally, I would be celebrating this addition with glee. However, on the package, Mambas announce that their new sour candies have "long-lasting sour" flavor.This could not be farther from the truth. Personally, I can barely detect any sour flavor. When I ate the first sour Mamba, I actually looked back at the package to ensure that I had not inadvertently picked up the regular Mambas.



There is so little sour flavoring there, that one is astounded that Storck would openly advertise some notion of "long-lasting"-ness in their product. Granted, the Mambas are still solid; I enjoyed eating each one of them. However, I have come to expect way more from my sour candies, and a corporation throwing its hat into the ring should do a little more work to make sure that they do not go making outlandish claims on their packaging. Here is a list, from sourest to least sour, displaying where these sour Mambas fall on the pucker scale:

--Warheads
--Cry Babys
--Sour Skittles
--Sour Starburst
--Sour Patch Kids
--Sour Dots
--Trolli Sour Brite Crawlers
--Any sour gummi product
--My facial expression after hearing pop radio
--Sugar
--Sour Mambas

Perhaps Storck is not as familiar with the US market as it could be(?), but that is still no excuse. Get your house in order, Storck. I'll be watching.

I'm going to give you some time to fix this because you provide over two and a half ounces of candy per package, a 50% increase over most US brands. But god help you if you ever reduce your weight!

Look closely at the bottom right corner -- 2.65 oz. That is some good value, ya'll.

Tis Still Good to Receive

I have to post an addendum to my last post, "Tis Better to Buy than to Receive." I am now not sure now whether that is always the case.

I say this because over the weekend, I received a package in the mail from a friend of mine. In it were 2 1/2 lbs. of candy. Yes, that much. And she has been reading the blog, so she got the candies right, too: a 2 lb bag of sour gummi zoo animals and a sack of blackberry and orange flavored Halloween gummis. I mean, damn-- what a boon!

I WASN'T saying boo-urns.

So, yes, I like to pick out my own goodies at the store, but you don't look a coupla pounds of gift hippos, lions, monkeys, and pumpkins in the mouth.

Tis better to buy than to receive

I have noticed that my recent store of candy has mostly come from others: plunder from inter-state candy exchange, gifts from my step-mother and father, pilfered bits from communal candy stashes here and there.

While it is always good to get free candy, I find that I am experiencing a bit of existential angst here. I think I am missing the jouissance one gets from visiting the candy aisle and marveling at the variety-- or the ecstasy that comes with the finding of an especially good deal on this or that goodie.

Usually when I am feeling a little empty, I eat some candy. In this instance, however, I think rather than eating candy, I need to make a trip to the local drug store or gas station and fill my batteries with some good old consumerism. God bless America.

North is North and South is South, and never the twain shall meet

I recently visited some friends of mine who know the value of a good candy-- and a good blog. After having read my posts on TCL about Sour Dots, they emailed me across the miles and miles between us to say that they could not find the Sour Dots in any stores. Dots, yes, but Sour, no. Similarly, I found that once my step-mother and I had exhausted our supply of Sour Skittles, I could not find replacements in the stores where I live. Therefore, as I imagine has happened in the annals of history, a mutually beneficial accord was struck: I would bring them Sour Dots, and they would get me Sour Skittles.

Over 500 miles later, I find myself short three boxes of Sour Dots, but flush with Sour Skittles.



I tell this story in part to express the frustration that candy aficionados the world over experience with seemingly inconsistent distribution and marketing. Why are Sour Skittles better suited to one region than another? Why is the Sour Dot available in no short supply in some places and entirely unknown-of in others? If we could discover the answers to mysteries such as these, perhaps there would be no need for cross-state candy bartering.

But, maybe it's not so bad; for the exchange of candy between friends is as much an affirmation of kinship and camaraderie as an exercise in necessity. So long as I have friends who are happy to see me and happy to see what candy treats I have brought to our little marketplace, I have no real complaints.