I’m dubious of anything that labels itself “smooth” and “crunchy” (was really hoping Google image search was going to dig up some gold on that one, but, alas, I have nothing to link to). Unless you have the proven reputation of jumbo shrimp, you best be careful throwin’ oxymorons around with such frivolity.As a big fan of Butterfingers and a big fan of Reese’s cups, the concept of Butterfinger PB Cups seemed quite agreeable. Butterfingers are peanut buttery but not in the way of actual peanuts or butter — a flavor profile that recalls peanut butter without actually being so; I was curious how this was going to work.
And then there was this whole smooth/crunchy business that I had to get to the bottom of.
So I got to the bottom of it.
Opening the package, the cups themselves are more rectangular than that of their Reese’s counterpart. They’re also missing the not-trademark-but-it-might-as-well-be thin black tissue paper wrapper that always takes more of the cup with it as it’s peeled off than you would like — a welcome change. Otherwise, though, they’re pretty reminiscent of a Reese’s Cup, waxy white cardstock tray underneath and all.
Upon first bite, I understand what the hell the “smooth and crunchy” business is all about. The “peanut butter” filling is at least three and a half times more creamy than that of it’s suddenly-rendered-granular Reese’s counterpart. It also has little (read: like little, sweet, grains of sugar sand) clusters of Butterfinger mixed in to the filling, providing a little texture surprise with every otherwise very smooth bite. It’s an interesting mouth situation going on, and it’s one I’m OK with.
You will notice that I put the words peanut butter in quotes in the last paragraph. That is because I’m not exactly sure what in tarnation the filling of Butterfinger Peanut Butter Cups actually is: There’s a decent chance it’s not actually peanut butter. I threw away my wrapper and thus cannot verify ingredients, but the filling is more sweet, orange and smooth than any peanut butter I’ve ever eaten. It had the flavor of a Butterfinger and the texture of the pumpkin part of a pumpkin pie. It wasn’t bad, per se, but it definitely was not what my mouth was expecting (And yes, yes, I’m aware that I just typed that, as well as “it’s an interesting mouth situation going on”. Direct all jokes toward the comments, pls.).
All of that considered, I did proceed to promptly devout the rest of the cup and it’s companion, then wish a little that there had been a third one.
Thumbs up for this one, though I think I’d still prefer a Reese’s.