So, in the past few weeks, I've made a big fuss about how I was moving on to a new store with as-yet-unexplored delights, and I could choose ANY CHOCOLATE BAR I wanted. In fact, I walked into the new store with one particular candy bar in mind, thinking how wonderful this new freedom to choose was.
But then I got to the (impossibly long) shelf of chocolate and the bar in question was all the way at the bottom of a dizzying array of new bars. So I reverted to my conformist, list-making self, and decided that I would start on the top left and proceed in order, just like I did at the previous store. I know! It's slightly annoying to me, too, but in an odd way, also comforting. Guess spontaneity isn't exactly my strong suit. :P
So in the brave new world of the News and Food, I picked up a candy bar I've never seen before - a Caramac. It had a pleasingly retro wrapper, but was a little disappointingly thin - I got to wondering if there would be anything worth eating inside. Too late! I'd already committed to the left to right rules, so I picked up the bar and bravely marched out.
I should have known something wasn't quite right when I told a colleague which bar I picked up this week, and her reaction was '...oh.' Hm. But then another one tells me that it's just like a Daim bar and I'll love it. So I begin to feel a little better. I mean, how awful can 'caramel-flavored chocolate' be?
Let me tell you, it can be AWFUL. For the record, a Caramac does not taste like a Daim bar AT ALL. When I opened the wrapper, I was a little taken aback - It looked not quite white, but like chocolate that hadn’t been in the sun in a few years – increasingly similar to my pallor as I live in England for longer and longer without the joy of weekends down the shore.
And when I took a bite, I realized I had been cruelly tricked into buying white chocolate, possibly the most disgusting thing on this planet. This tasting was a new low - this may well the first bar I've actually had to spit out. The Caramac has the oily consistency of white chocolate, with a touch of gross caramel-like flavour, along the lines of a Werther’s original. Luckily, after disposing of the rejected mouthful, I had some GOOD chocolate to take away the terrible after taste (mini After Eights, as per my mint/chocolate obsession). Ick. That'll teach me to be adventurous.
NO BARS. No - in fact - NEGATIVE BARS. Negative 4 of them.
Here's hoping the next week is better - or I get a little less unwise with my choices.
But then I got to the (impossibly long) shelf of chocolate and the bar in question was all the way at the bottom of a dizzying array of new bars. So I reverted to my conformist, list-making self, and decided that I would start on the top left and proceed in order, just like I did at the previous store. I know! It's slightly annoying to me, too, but in an odd way, also comforting. Guess spontaneity isn't exactly my strong suit. :P
So in the brave new world of the News and Food, I picked up a candy bar I've never seen before - a Caramac. It had a pleasingly retro wrapper, but was a little disappointingly thin - I got to wondering if there would be anything worth eating inside. Too late! I'd already committed to the left to right rules, so I picked up the bar and bravely marched out.
Let me tell you, it can be AWFUL. For the record, a Caramac does not taste like a Daim bar AT ALL. When I opened the wrapper, I was a little taken aback - It looked not quite white, but like chocolate that hadn’t been in the sun in a few years – increasingly similar to my pallor as I live in England for longer and longer without the joy of weekends down the shore.
NO BARS. No - in fact - NEGATIVE BARS. Negative 4 of them.
Here's hoping the next week is better - or I get a little less unwise with my choices.
Bar-o-Meter (Negative)
- 
