Monthly Archives: December 2015

Mangoes and Dark Chocolate: Oh Hey Der, New Friend

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I’ll be honest: I find mangoes mysterious and unpredictable.

I suppose a great deal of that comes from the fact that I just never really ran into them when I was growing up — a picky eater, apples were a tough sell, so mangoes were probably far out of the question. Also, Wisconsin.

As a grownup, I’ve had them a couple of times, but I’ve never really known about whether I’m eating them right. Am I supposed to use a knife? I can’t tell when they’re ripe? They have a pleasant enough taste, sometimes? Not so pleasant, though, that they have warranted further investigation.

And thus, here we are, describing fruit on a candy bar blog like a character played by James Spader on a network drama.

As a result, when Holtsford Bar — one of our regulars at Timmy’s, who, when not loving sugar cookies, rooting for the Panthers or believing in Knobby, has been one of BOaP’s stronger supporters — brought in a Ghirardelli Mango Sunset bar, I was as dubious as I was puzzled what to expect. I knew he wouldn’t be bringing, like, poison, but … mango and chocolate? Counselor Shore, you’re a loose cannon!

As is often the case, though, I’m a dope. The candy bar was damn good.

Sometimes, when you eat flavored chocolate, you can tell that it’s just chocolate and they threw some artificial flavoring in there; you’re hanging out with a friend but he/she also brought his/her shitty friend along. The experience is enough like hanging out with just your friend, but it’s less fun because you can’t stop noticing that shitty friend. Sometimes, the shitty friend is so shitty that it ruins hanging out with your friend altogether.

The Mango Sunset [Ed. note: I want to have a comment about the name, but I just can’t muster anything up.] is nothing like that, though. It’s more like hanging out with a friend who brought his/her new friend along and the new friend is delightful to the point that you’re really happy they came but you’re at the point where you don’t really have the capacity to make any more friends so you just appreciate and enjoy the new friend’s company and extend an open invitation to hang out that you don’t ever really plan on following up on.

Which is to say: The dark chocolate and the mango work together harmoniously and are a genuinely fun combination. The mango flavor is strong, but not fake-tasting, and has a fantastic complement in the bitterness of the dark chocolate. Whether chewed or allowed to melt on the tongue, the tropical-ness of the mango dances across the palate and elicits an almost whimsical response.

It’s not a candy bar I’d want to eat all the time — you definitely have to be in the mood for a Mango Sunset. But you know that your friend’s friend is almost definitely not going to hit you up for a happy hour, so you just kind of appreciate that it’s there and look forward to the next time you run into it.

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BREAKING NEWS: Pretentious candy bar bros get their pretentious comeuppance

I don’t like to say that I hate people, because, at its heart, the word “hate” is awful in just about any context. I do, however, have a Fk That Dude list.

The Mast Brothers? Fk those dudes. On the list.

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Merry Christmas, everybody

  

May your pudding be figgy and your canes be unbroken. 

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Nope.

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“Why would anybody eat a toothpaste-flavored peep?”

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May the Force be with you

 There is no candy bar more associated with movie theaters. 

Used to hate them because raisins. But this moment is perfect.

Enjoy the weekend, nerds. 

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Lumps of Coal

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When I was a wee lad, my grandma used to babysit me a lot. She was a sweet lady who loved Arnold Schwarzenegger and had a right hand that didn’t open up all the way on account of an industrial accident at a factory where she worked.

When I got tired of watching Predator and started beating up on my sisters, she would Stop That Right Now, Young Man Or Else You’re Going To Get THE CLAW.

She would beckon at me with her semi-clenched hand, her fingers extended and her long, sharpened fingernails pointed directly at my heart.

And I would stop, sit back down and get right back to watching Predator.

Grandma (Grambo to those who knew her – she loved Stallone too) passed a couple of years ago. As my family gathered to mourn and pore over pictures, possessions and memories, my cousins and I all came to realize that nobody ever actually got The Claw [Ed. note: It turns out, to some’s chagrin.] – the object of our abject fear was merely a ruse to get us to stop being such little shits.

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Miss you, Gram.

A similar ruse?

“If you don’t behave, all Santa is going to bring you is a lump of coal.”

Ignoring the fact that these days coal is a precious resource that might have a higher value than a great many other gifts, for a child, this is a scary-ass proposition. And, for the most part, it works.

Now, I know I’m not breaking new ground here, but we all recognize that nobody has ever – outside of the Kingsford briquette that your wisenheimer dad decided was a funny joke one year – gotten coal in their stocking in lieu of Christmas presents, right? The fortitude a parent would need to deal with the repercussions on Christmas morning alone would make it a futile decision, not to mention the therapy they’d need to pay for years later.

We continue to propagate the threat, though. And finally, someone’s taking advantage!

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If you squint real hard … they still don’t look like coal.

Butterfinger decided to market their holiday varietal as lumps of coal (pictured at top), and I couldn’t be happier. For one, it means the kids whose wisenheimer dads were going to put charcoal in their stocking now have a shot at a delicious alternative, but, really, it’s a creative way to package the best-possible form of Butterfinger. The chocolate-to-Butterfinger-stuffins ratio is higher than a typical Butterfinger, which offers a gentler tasting experience, both in the ways of initial taste as well as a more reasonable amount of candy that gets stuck in your teeth.

Continue reading

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UPDATE: Reese’s is the best

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You probably remember this.

Here’s how Reese’s responded [Ed. note: For some reason Twitter embed doesn’t work on my template. Sorry, Twitter.]:

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And when someone tried to throw shade?

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You win, Reese’s.

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Otters, Crowlers and #TaskTourism

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I just returned from a magnificent and too-short weekend in Portland, Ore., where I got to celebrate a Festivus I might have accidentally foisted upon my hosts.

I highly recommend at least a cursory exploration of the town. If you’re at a loss for what to do, you might consider just following your host around town as he/she runs errands. That might sound like a snide thing to be saying, but, very genuinely, I got to see a great deal of the city in a very efficient manner. Whoever figures out how to monetize #TaskTourism might just stumble onto the next AirbnB.

Before my trip, my hosts Chris and Rachel Bar had spent some time on St. Juan Island in Washington State and brought back the lavender milk chocolate pictured above for me to try.

Now, before I go any further, it is important for me to note that when I was growing up, my mother had a therapeutic neck pillow that contained lavender beads. You could put it in the microwave and wrap it around your neck, and it would somehow make life better.

It is also important for me to note that said pillow also was shaped like an otter and my mother named it Jethro.

The lavender chocolate is uniquely delicious. It is smooth and light and the lavender complements the milk chocolate in a fun way that dances across the tongue. It’s almost like enjoying a chocolate-covered flower.

But all I could think of when I ate it was my mother’s microwavable therapeutic neck pillow otter Jethro.

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I also ran into an Alcove Banana Cream Crunch bar out there, which seemed like it would be a lot of fun. It turns out it’s not; the banana flavor comes across as too fake, even if it’s not, and the crispy rice bits compromise the integrity of the admittedly nice chocolate — you end up having to chew it to get the full effect, which is kind of a bummer.

At the same liquor store I bought that lackluster bar, though, was a wonderful invention/craft beer distribution system called the Crowler. Basically, instead of having to fill an entire growler of beer, the store/bar pours beer into an oversized can and SEALS THE GIANT CAN RIGHT IN FRONT OF YOU. I took home 32 oz. of Boneyard’s Notorious triple IPA, and also took home a newfound sense of wonder.

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Google Search That Brought Traffic to BOaP of the Day

“keebler elf house”

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Something for the Rest of Us

  
In honor of Westivus Weekend, allow me to air a couple of grievances. [Ed. note: Early, of course, which in and of itself is actually my first grievance.]

I got a LOTTA PROBLEMS with this candy. 

  1. “Iddy biddy”?
  2. Iddy.
  3. Biddy. 
  4. How you going to call them “iddy biddy” and not also call them “widdle”?
  5. People who use the word “widdle”
  6. The voice people use when they use the word “widdle”
  7. 60 Santas (approximately)! What an unorthodox (approximate) number! [Ed. note: I can only assume there will be more widdle Santas, like when they throw extra screws in Ikea furniture]
  8. Approximations
  9. Unorthodox approximations
  10. IKEA furniture
  11. That they don’t throw in more things like when they throw extra screws in Ikea furniture
  12. That apparently counting the widdle Santas in O’Hare is something worth staring at
  13. That there were EXACTLY 60 widdle Santas.
  14. 60 widdle Santas. I wish I were kidding.

  15. Precise, accurate unorthodox approximations
  16. Wrapper images that are actual size
  17. The need to justify enlarged images on wrappers by telling consumers it’s “for texture”
  18. That these are pretty much just eating an individual bag of chocolate chips
  19. That stupid shit about the Reese’s Trees
  20. That they don’t sell individual bags of chocolate chips

Happy Festivus weekend everybody. 

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    Pick literally anything else to be angry about

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    No fewer than four independent people sent me a link to stories about people being mad about the shape of this year’s crop of Reese’s Trees, the cups’ Christmas seasonal shape varietal similar to the pumpkins and eggs of Halloween and Easter, respectively.

    It seems the detail on the sides is not up to snuff.

    That’s it. Apparently it resembles a turd. Because the edges aren’t jaggy enough.

    Bruh. Continue reading

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