I know Flakes are ORIGINALLY British, but I discovered them on a long business trip to Godzone and Oz. . . it was long enough that I was living and shopping off the economy, and, well. . .
I wish I could remember one particular thing, somewhere in the spectrum between Candy and Snack Food. There were these incredible bars, some sort of Apricot-Coconut mixture, that I discovered in Wellington, NZ, and also found in Canberra and the duty-free at Sydney International.
Between me, the wife and kids, and the cow-orkers, they were gone within DAYS of my return. I expected to go back on further trips, but then the program got cancelled, and no more trips Down Under (sigh). . .
I probably COULD find the Aussie and Brit bars if I looked hard enough, but I’ve had to pretty much eliminate candy from the diet, other than diabetic sucralose stuff. . and that never tastes the same. Luckily, I CAN still do dark chocolate in small quantities, and have a local spot that sells Cote d’Or and Callebaut. . .
Cote d’Or permanently changed my relationship to chocolate. I was working in Brussels, and learned that Cote d’Or was the equivalent to Hersheys there. Once I realized that the base-line chocolate on the family breakfast table and/or dropped into a mini baguette for a quick lunch was better quality than anything available from an average grocery store in the US at the time (early/mid-1980’s), I became literally unable to eat poor quality chocolate. I went from being a chocoholic to being a choco-snob. Now, if it’s not worth eating…I don’t.
We had exactly one large gaggle of kids come through here last night. (It’s a golf course community full of retirees, few children). I had wrapped some Colorado-made ‘Chocolove’ bars in black construction paper, then white crepe paper, and glued on googly eyes to look like mummies. I also had a couple of cookies in cool Halloween-themed tins and Halloween-themed pencils. My backups were six rolls of Rolos and a box of full-sized Heath bars, but it never came to that.
When the doorbell rang, there were several kids standing outside our door and one dad. All were in make-up and costumes. Dad’s appeared to be a British-face painted-hair braided-soccer-hooligan; he was a big guy too. It didn’t occur to me in my cleverness and with the dim light, the treaters and dad would have a hard time identifying what I was putting in their pails and pillowcases. The first question some kid in the back asked was, ‘Get many trick-or-treaters in this neighborhood?’ They must have noticed the absence of gangs of other children. I handed out the cookies and pencils together, then the mummified chocolate bars. Dad and one little boy I’m guessing was his son were the last to be served. As I laid the last mummy into the kid’s pillowcase, he spun away on his heel and asked dad, ‘WHAT IS IT?’ Dad: ‘I don’t know.’ ‘YEAH, BUT WHAT IS IT???’ Dad: ‘I DON’T KNOW. CANDY? LET’S GO.’ The kid walked away with his head stuck down in his pillowcase trying to puzzle it out, and dad stood on our porch staring at me slack-jawed like he was memorizing my face. I was just struck dumb trying to figure out why the guy was just standing there looking at me, confused about what point of trick-or-treat etiquette I’d missed and thinking maybe I should offer him a Heath bar. Then he too spun on his heel and walked away.
Next year: clearly identifiable Sour Patch Kids
Also: Almond Joys are my favorite. I’ve never let Donald’s opinion deter me from that magical amalgam of coconut, almonds and dark chocolate either. If anything, arguing with Donald, while loads of fun, just seems to cause him to dig his heels in a little deeper. He likes what he likes like the rest of us.
I hear you: Cote d’Or will do ONLY when I cannot get Callebaut. Just like Leonidas Pralines in Belgium are the local equivalent of Russell Stovers or Whitman Samplers. . . My personal addiction, when I get to Brussels (which I haven’t done in over a decade, alas, was Wittamer.
I love peanut butter kisses. They have little pockets of powdery peanut butter in them randomly. My mother would steal mine because she liked them too.
Indeed. I made out like a bandit by dint of my preference for Mounds, Almond Joy, and Special Dark chocolates over Butterfingers, Snickers, and Hershey’s. Kids always wanted to trade - more for me!
I also note with disdain the lack of separation between Tootsie Rolls and flavored Tootsie Rolls. The vanilla and orange ones - heaven.
They still make those? Haven’t seen them since… I dunno, the mid-90s? I wouldn’t go so far as to call them heaven, but they were certainly more interesting to chew upon than the, uh, non-vanilla run-of-the-mill T.Roll
I dunno if they make a fun-size for halloween use, but as a Detroit-area kid, no visit to Ontario was complete without getting a Mr. Big bar. it’s been so long I don’t even remember the taste or even the wrapper but I remember I loved 'em.
I don’t remember what they taste like either, but I do remember the wrapper because it says “Mr. Big”… really big. I think I have seen those around in New York actually, or maybe in California, but can’t think of where specifically.
I grew up in Buffalo and my grandmother had (still has) a cottage across the lake in Ontario, so I was over there all the time (and we made yearly trips to the Ontario Science Center in Toronto). But my parents didn’t really ever buy candy for me when we went to Canada, or ever, probably because I was already a bit of a fat kid.
So when I went to summer camp - in Canada - from ages 7-15, there was a camp store where you could get t-shirts and such with the camp logo, postcards, etc… and candy. You could only get one piece of candy a day, but that was enough for me to eat lots of Coffee Crisps and to try all the other Canadian candies.
Now when I’m in Canada, sometimes I’ll pick something small up just for nostalgia (I don’t normally eat candy except at Halloween). I haven’t had a Coffee Crisp in years though, and talking about it so much has made me really want one. It’ll probably be disappointing now, too.
I never DID get any from Mary. By the time I got back from installing systems up at NATO, and then down there, they were sold out. (I always stayed at the Hotel Palace on Place Rogier. . . )
I then went and drowned my sorrow at Fritland, behind the Bourse. . . . .
Did anyone notice what kind of candy Kathy Bates was distributing to trick-or-treaters in the Halloween episode of “American Horror Story: Coven?” Peanut butter kisses!!!
