Sifting Through the (Oh so Delicious) Dregs

Dear readers, it would appear that I have finally reached the end of the (British candy bar) universe! I know, I also thought it was impossible in the early days of surveying the seemingly limitless varieties at the corner shop. But then that corner shop was emptied of its novelty, and then the next. 


When I went to procure my latest candy bar, I noticed to my surprise that there appeared to be nothing available in the way of new bars. So I'm going to do the unthinkable, and go against yet another one of my ground rules (have any of these actually survived?) - I am going to try variations on bars I have tried before. Fear not! There appears to be about 10 different varieties of Kit Kats alone, so there may well be material for many a blog yet. But of course, any suggestions for bars I may have missed in my less-than-methodical trawl through two shops on the same street is always very welcome - as are international guest stars! 


Onto the review. At the very bottom of the convenience store shelf, I came upon a Drifter, a bar I've never seen or heard of before. A new discovery! How exciting. From the outside, the Drifter looks like nothing special, but the promise of not one but TWO chocolate bars inside bodes well.

The Drifter turns out to be something like the love child of a Twix and a Kit Kat - a thin chocolate finger with a wafer sandwiched between two layers of caramel. There may even be chocolate cream between the wafer's layers, but I wasn't able to work that out. The wafer is actually a little dry for my taste, but the two layers of caramel (thoughtfully provided on both top and bottom) give it a nice chewiness and make it a little more substantial. Like all good things, this vaguely reminds me of a Girl Scout cookie, the ever-delicious and chewy Samoa (uh, sorry, Caramel DeLite). But then again, anything with some kind of cookie/caramel combo seems to do that. And as for the two-for-one option, I actually saved my second bar for the next day's enjoyment, so points for that.

All in all, a little dry, but a very tasty combination of flavors. I think my main complaint was that the wafer makes it feel a little too insubstantial - it was all gone before I knew it. Of course, this could have been a side effect of wolfing this down during my day of hell at work (just one exciting component of the week of hell) and not actually realizing it was gone before getting my 3pm sugar fix. Three and a half bars!

Tune in next time for the first of many variation reviews - just how many squares of Cadbury varieties can I down in one tasting session?

Bar-o-Meter

European Championships of Chocolate

So I am recently back from a lovely trip in Eastern Europe with my friend Chava, where we visited both Berlin and Krakow, stuffed ourselves on pretzels and pierogis, stayed in a caravan, and took advantage of nearly every mode of transport each city had to offer, being the transportation planner nerds we are. Ah, it's nice to be amongst your people. :P  But on to the important bit - how was the chocolate?


I skipped reviewing anything in Germany, as I had done such a thorough job last time, but never fear, dear reader - I ATE an awful lot. Highlights include Neideregger marzipan and dark chocolate hearts and the amazing array of Easter candy on offer - the chocolate section at KaDeWe put the English Easter chocolate onslaught to shame. I briefly considered bringing back a 2-foot tall chocolate bunny, but then thought that my suitcase capacity could be put to better use (and it was - who knew instant packets of zurek could taste so so good)?


As Poland is a new addition to my list of countries reviewed, I got not one but two bars to review - a 3 Bit and a Pawatek – so far, so good. And it seemed fitting to get the 'official candy bar of Euro 2012' (or at least this is what my rudimentary translation led me to believe - I also think I could win tickets if I was clever enough to learn Polish), as wherever we went in Poland seemed to be frantically putting the last touches on all the new infrastructure before being flooded with tourists this June. 

The 3 Bit was the first experiment, and at first it all seemed to be going well. Nice thick milk chocolate on the outside, nice crunchy biscuit base...all ruined by the layer of white chocolate in between the two. Ew. Why does all cheap white chocolate only taste of vegetable oil? I was hoping it was some kind of marshmallow goodness, but it only disappointed in a big way. I swiftly gave this one up to the team to share, and desperately tried to get the taste of white chocolate and disgust out of my mouth. Further disappointments when I turned the bar over to see that it was actually made in Budapest, not Poland, and by Kraft, no less. Blargh. 1 bar, if only for the bits that weren't ruined by the white chocolate.

The next bar seemed a little more promising. It was made by Wawel, which in addition to being fun to say, is the name of the castle Krakow is built around, and seems to be an older candy company (again, based off my rudimentary Polish-to-English skills). This was far better. The bar had a nicely substantial outer coating of milk chocolate, with a smooth, intensely fruity filling that was the same kind of intense pinky-red as my parents' dining room, for those of you who have seen it. Some Google Translate help allowed me to identify the filling as cherry, although it could just as easily been strawberry or raspberry. In any case, it had that vaguely alcoholic twinge I remember from Barb’s grab bags of Polish candies, helpfully supplied by her mother when we were in college. The Pawatek very nostalgically reminded me of this taste of exoticness – if Eastern Europe can be considered exotic! I could probably eat about half of this bar at a time, but very nice indeed - 3 bars.


Eating the official candy of Euro 2012 inspired me to create my own league table for my random sampling of European candies tested so far. Let's see how they all add up:

Sweden: 3.5
Denmark: 2
Germany: 3.5
France: 3.5
England: too lazy to average them all, will go with 3 to be safe.
Ireland: 4
Italy:1
Switzerland: 3
Latvia:4
Poland: 2 (combined score)

So, Ireland and Latvia emerge as the surprise leaders (bet you won't be seeing anything like this in the actual European Championships). If anything, this made me realise how many more European countries I need to eat chocolate in. Onwards!

Bar-o-Meter



The Candy Bar That Leaves You Speechless - Literally

As I sit here eating the last of my Easter chocolate (thank you, Jo - the Thomas the Tank Engine egg was much appreciated!), I'm trying to think back to that ancient time before I was on holiday and I tested my last chocolate bar (is it possible such a time existed?)


Ah, yes, now I remember. I was gifted a Curly Wurly by Lisa at work, who has long sung the praises of this particular candy bar. I was a little disappointed by its thinness when I first got hold of it - how could a candy bar in a package so flat be delicious? I was suspicious.

I shouldn't have been so quick to judge - the Curly Wurly was simple yet completely effective as a candy bar. It kinda resembles a ladder or a chocolate-covered pretzel (without the nasty pretzel bit) - just a braid of chewy caramel covered in chocolate. Both the caramel and the chocolate have a nice flavor, although I could have done with a higher chocolate to caramel ratio. 

The most distinctive feature of the Curly Wurly, however, has to be the sheer chewiness of it all. Biting into this pretty much guarantees that you'll be unintelligible for about two minutes as you work your way through the caramel. The chewiness means you get to savor the thin little bar just a little bit longer, as you try and get all the sticky bits out of your teeth (surely this bar must have made some dentists very wealthy). It's also a bar you can leave for later, as the caramel is less runny than most other varieties and stays in place until you fancy another sweet fix.


Ok, Lisa, you were right all along. What a fantastically simple, delicious candy bar. Methinks - 4 bars?


Coming up next: delights from my recent trip to Poland. I picked up some weird looking bars, so stay tuned for another wacky international tasting!

Bar-o-Meter



Oh...THAT Bar?

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.

Bar-o-Meter (Negative)

- 



Past Times

When a label says ‘since a particular year’ that either means it was so good they never thought of changing the original recipe, or it was something someone who actually lived during those times would like. Fry's Cream bars seem to be one of the latter cases. 

The candy bars I picked up this week were two varieties of Fry's Cream bars, originally made by J.S. Fry and Sons, and now produced by Cadbury's as a retro item of sorts. There are three varieties - chocolate, peppermint, and orange - and some no longer existing ill-fated varieties such as Pineapple Cream and Fruit Medley. Luckily for me, the local shop only had the chocolate and peppermint varieties, saving me from having to try the undoubtedly unholy chocolate and orange combo (somehow works in a jaffa cake, fails in all other things chocolate and orange flavored). 

The wrapper on both of these candy bars proudly states 'Since 1761'. This appears to be a poor effort by Cadbury's to co-opt nostalgia for a once-family owned brand that underwent what was certainly a hostile corporate takeover in the early 1900s. It also does not bode well for my chocolate tasting experience. Do you know what else they found delicious in 1791? Aspic, for one, and a whole host of other disgusting things.

To start - the Chocolate Cream. This is a throwback and probably deserves to remain a throwback. This bar consists of a creamy center surrounded by nice and thick dark chocolate. The consistency of the cream is jus runny enough to be smooth, but stays nicely within the chocolate shell - all in all, kind of like the Latvian delight Oli brought back from Riga. However, this is where the similarities end. The chocolate on the outside is far too sweet, and the filling tastes like one of those weird eastern European chocolates that tastes alcoholic, yet strangely does not contain any alcohol. The overly sweet and odd-tasting filling (one colleague said it tasted like soap) and sweet chocolate is a really awful combination, and one I don't think I'd try again. I also had a hard time giving away the leftovers - one work colleague delightedly exclaimed that her mom 'loves these', only to then make a face while eating it and give up on the rest of her square in disgust. The filling is nice and smooth, and I like the chocolate to filling ratio, but I just can't get over the taste.

0.5 bars.

The Peppermint Cream, however, is a whole different kettle of fish. It's the same concept as the Chocolate Cream, but with the perennially wonderful peppermint and chocolate combo. The filling is a completely different texture - still creamy but with a more fluffy consistency. It's like a perfect marriage between the runniness of an After Eight and the chewiness of a Peppermint Pattie (two of my favorite chocolates, if it's not already been made obvious). The peppermint filling is also a lot less sickly than the filling in the Chocolate Cream. Unfortunately, the gross Cadbury's Bourneville chocolate exterior is still too sweet, and I don't think I'd be able to finish a whole bar (I only got a third of the way through). To its credit, though, I had much less trouble offering up the leftovers from the Peppermint Cream than the Chocolate Cream.

Good in a pinch, and it IS the best flavor combination going - 2 bars.

So, in total, an average of 1.25 bars. Not so hot.

However, I would like to take this opportunity to mention that the Chocolate Cream and the Peppermint Cream were in fact the last two candy bars at my corner shop, meaning I am free to try a whole host of new and wonderful things. I'm going to check out the stock at other stores around work, but suggestions for bars to try and donations from exotic foreign locales are both very welcome. I still have yet to try the delights of a Curly Wurly (remarkably hard to find these days) and a Wispa Gold, brought back in triumph late last year, and will be travelling to the disparate foodie locales of Seattle (what WON'T they flavor with bacon?) and Poland (likely to be slightly more tame). 

Methinks 2012 is going to be an exciting one for chocolate tasting! Let's just hope it goes better than this week's offering. 

Bar-o-Meter



When Gender Discrimination is OK by Me

After a long (and much needed) holiday-related hiatus, I return once more to my modest corner store of overpriced and under-nutritious food. The first thing I notice is that their stock of chocolate bars appears extraordinarily low, to the point where there are even some empty spaces where once there were neat stacks of candy bars. Is it the return to work stress that's caused a run on cheap chocolate? Harried new year dieters giving up the resolution in a big way? A sign that it’s time to move on to a – gasp! – new shop?

As I surveyed the paltry wares, my gaze fell upon a bar (one of the few left) that I hadn’t tried before. And then out of sheer impatience with the entire process, I grabbed its variation. I know, I know, I said I wasn’t going to do ‘special’ versions of bars as they just seem like an unimaginative marketing ploy, but in this case, the two versions of Yorkies actually seem to be completely different bars.

Because the bars I picked were indeed Yorkies, both the original and the 'raisin and biscuit' versions. The first thing I noticed was that the original wrapper seemed to have lost its inexplicable ‘not for girls’ label - an obnoxiously large international sign for 'no' over the international sign for 'ladies room' replacing the 'O' in 'Yorkie'.  (When I commented on this to work colleagues, they pointed me in the direction of a weird 'Convoy'-esque ad involving a trucker and his Yorkie.) This thing that they do with dividing chocolate bars by gender in the UK is so weird - see Cadbury Galaxy ads - why would you bother alienating 50% of your potential market? 

Well, after trying an original Yorkie, I think I'm fine just leaving it to the men. What's the big deal with this bar? I kept waiting for something to happen but it’s just thick, overly sweet squares of milk chocolate and nothing else. Again, the point of bars like this eludes me – just buy a nice Milka bar or some Belgian chocolate if you’re craving milk chocolate! 

When I was about to think this week’s experiement was all for naught, I decided to try the second, more seductively packaged (purple) Yorkie (cross-section on the left above). Oooh. This was a totally different taste altogether. This was like a bar made of milk chocolate Raisinettes if someone decided to throw a couple cookies in with them as well. And good cookies, like shortbread or digestives, not an almost-substantial-but-not-quite wafer. Enough crunch to satisfy the ‘goodies’ craving, and enough chewiness from the raisins to give it a bit of variety. After about two sections, though, I had had about enough – the chocolate was so sweet it was a little too much for me.

How are these bars even related? The first has absolutely nothing to recommend it, and the second is downright tasty. Almost feels like trail mix – it’s practically healthy! And oddly true to marketing, the raisin and biscuit bar actually appeared to appeal more to women, as I was easily able to give sections away to my largely female colleagues, but had to hunt down one of the rarer male ones to get rid of the dull blue one. Although I used to be vaguely offended by the 'not for girls' marketing hook with the Yorkie, if you ask me now, I’m GLAD there's a candy bar that's only for men if it's going to be so unimaginatively bland.

Man Yorkie = 1/2 bar

Woman Yorkie - 3 bars

Average = 1.75 bars (inaccurately represented below)

Next week: the last bar on offer at my shop of choice! Excited yet?

Bar-o-Meter



A Roaring Disappointment

Dear readers,


I have a confession to make. I have been wilfully skipping candy bars. I see them in the display case at the off-license, I note their presence, and I pass them on by. I know I was going to take the rules very seriously when I set out to document my opinions on British chocolate bars, but really, life is too short for eating bad candy bars.


So I passed by the Milky Bar (ew white chocolate), and a Terry's Chocolate Orange bar (an unholy flavor combination), and will be skipping the Aero bars (both varieties at the shop) next week. I've had them and they are gross. So there.

On to the bar I actually DID eat this week - a Lion bar. Not sure if this is meant to be wildly patriotic or Nestle just ran out of things to name their candy bars. The Lion bar is a veritable festival of ingredients - a wafer filled with a vanilla-y cream, surrounded by a layer of chewy caramel, all covered in a thick outer layer of chocolate studded with crispy rice pieces. 

I never thought I'd say it, but maybe one bar can have just TOO many good things going on. I mean, I am a fan of the 'goodies', but it's almost like someone at Nestle said, 'hm, this bar doesn't have enough going on, let's add about 12 more ingredients.' All the component parts are fairly tasty on  And it's a workout to eat! I was sitting in front of a movie and just wanted to relax, and ended up working far too hard to chomp my way through all the crispiness and the overly chewy caramel. It's like a Loaker with plate armor. 


Lion bar, you're pretty good, but you're just trying too hard. An underachieving three bars is all you'll get.


Basically, this is a case of a little too much of a good thing. Kinda like the Christmas season, which makes this a good bar to start my holiday hiatus on. Happy Thanksgiving, everyone, see you in the New Year!

Bar-o-Meter



Toffee: Creepy or Delicious?

This week I'm back to English soil and reviewing a Toffee Crisp. 


So, I’m coming from the American-centric view that toffee is one thing and one thing only – those Werther’s Original snacks that had the creepy Grandpa/Gransdson ads recycled from the early 80s. So when I was steeling myself for overly sweet gobs of candy that would get stuck to my teeth for the remainder of the day, imagine my surprise when I bit into the bar and found that 'toffee' was actually caramel – or something that tastes an awful lot like it!

The Toffee Crisp is a nice substantial candy bar with a reasonably thick layer of chocolate on the outside, surrounding a base of crispy rice coated in chocolate, all topped with nicely chewy caramel. The caramel is a great consistency - not too chewy as to make it impossible to eat, but gooey enough that it doesn't all just melt away into nothingness. In the grand tradition of Nestle bars, it’s generally lacking in chocolate flavor, but the caramel (excuse me - toffee) does a lot to sweeten up this bar. The bar is indeed crisp, unlike some disappointingly soggy bars of the past that delivered big promises for crunchiness and then disappointed.

The Toffee Crisp actually tastes an awful lot like an American 100 Grand bar, which, oddly enough, I was totally craving last week. In fact, I think you can’t really ever go wrong with a bit of crispy rice added to a candy bar. (At least, it hasn’t happened yet – I’m sure someone has done something unspeakable with chocolate and rice somewhere – a special Olympics bar, perhaps? – so stay tuned). 

YUM. This is a really tasty bar, perhaps only held back by the poor quality of the chocolate on the outside – the palm oil Nestle loves so well leaves a slightly oily aftertaste, as does the thought of all those poor dead sun bears. I'd like to consider myself a reasonably ethical person in most matters, but maybe in the pursuit of sugary calories (especially ones as satisfying as these), there needs to be some necessary collateral damage.

4 bars!

Bar-o-Meter



New Continent Explored!

Hi everyone,


I've just gotten back from a holiday in Marrakech, and it was an amazing experience. I encountered some strange and new things there - camels on the roadside (for tourists, obviously), mile after mile of winding souk (although after a while, they all begin to feel like a variation on the Camden Markets), full body exfoliation at the hammams (ultimately rewarding, but at the time - ouch!) and perhaps the strangest and most unexpected thing of all - a Moroccan chocolate bar!


Ok, so technically, it isn't actually Moroccan. It's from a company called Tiffany, based in Dubai. But you can BUY it in Morocco (from a hole in the wall -literally - shop around the corner from my riad, where you could also buy cigarettes and a wide selection of French-inspired cookies, and where the shopkeeper showed me how much it cost by laying out the correct coins on the counter), so I'm going with it. 

The bar in question is a Team Up, with not one but two skinny chocolate bars to delight. Not entirely sure why the bar has an English name (and the vaguely unappetizing-sounding description of 'cocoa coated fingers'), but whatever. Like what I imagine any authentic Moroccan candy bar stored in the hot desert sun would be like, this one is part melted, slightly flattened and reconstituted. So far, so good.

Turns out the melting didn't do anything to mar (and maybe even improved?) the taste. The two chocolate bars are layers of soft, crispy chocolate wafers (think Loacker wafers) covered in a thin layer of chewy caramel, and then covered in a thick-ish layer of milk chocolate. And the end result is a tasty bar indeed!


Perhaps due to the melting, perhaps to the bar itself, the bar is lovely and chewy. The wafers, used to disastrous effect in previously reviewed bars, works in this case because the soft caramel that surrounds it keeps it from being too dry and flaky. There might also be some sort of Loacker-esque chocolate cream between the wafers, but the bars I tried have been flattened a little too much to tell. :P


The milk chocolate surrounding it all is fairly passable - a little too sweet but no weird flavor to it. The bar actually really reminded me of the Caramel deLites (the dear departed Samoa) Girl Scout cookies without the coconut. Maybe it's the sweet chocolate and caramel combo? Weird.


In any case, after not even expecting to find something resembling a chocolate bar in Marrakech, I found myself very pleased indeed about what I did find. This is an eminently eatable  bar, and a somewhat less robust but fairly passable Kit Kat substitute while traveling the Arab world. Yum - 3 bars.   

Bar-o-Meter



Eastern Europe and Egg Cream

So while the original purpose of this blog was to familiarize myself with strange and different British chocolate bars, I've managed to get in quite a few international guest stars through traveling (and through the generosity of traveling friends). The latest exotic acquisition? A Laima dark chocolate bar filled with egg cream, of all things, from Riga, Latvia. (Thanks, Oli!)


Egg cream, you say? I KNOW, I think. But it was all a huge amount less gross than it sounds. The bar itself appears to intriguingly have no name - I originally thought it was called a 'Laima', but then figured out it was the name of the chocolate company - reportedly the 'Cadbury's of Latvia'. Personally, I think this is selling Laima a bit short. The exhausting list of products on their webpage includes ice cream bars and Russell Stover-type variety boxes, which is where this bar appears to have originated. 

The bar consists of a nice thick layer of dark chocolate covering little segmented sections of egg cream filling. The chocolate is nicely sweet, kinda like a Hershey's Dark, but much better quality. The filling is absolutely delicious - it's this yellow, custardy consistency that is thick enough to keep from oozing out of the bar, but creamy enough to leave a nicely soft texture on your tongue. The chocolate is thick enough to provide a good contrast to the filling. The entire thing has a vaguely alcoholic taste, like so much Eastern European chocolate (although I don't think there's any actually in it).

This is DELICIOUS. Maybe it's because I didn't have huge expectations, but I ate this bar so quickly it wasn't long before I sadly realised it was all gone. More than anything else, it reminds me of those little assorted Polish chocolates that Barb used to bring back from Ohio (some awesome, some disastrous). Yummm, nostalgia. I'm totally going to have to visit Riga now, if only to go on the factory tour and stock up on all the many varieties of Latvian chocolate favorites. 


Four bars! International win! 


Next weekend I'll be in Marrakech, which for some reason I highly doubt has cheap chocolate bars sitting around just waiting to be reviewed. Mint tea, yes, cheap cocoa, no. Who knows, though, I could be surprised. If not, see you in two weeks, when we're finally back in Britain!

Bar-o-Meter