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.]:
And when someone tried to throw shade?
You win, Reese’s.
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.
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.
Google Search That Brought Traffic to BOaP of the Day
“keebler elf house”
I got a LOTTA PROBLEMS with this candy.
Happy Festivus weekend everybody.
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
Sometimes, there a distraction. Other times, a fire-in-a-barrel.
Sometimes, there’s a distraction, in a fire-in-a-barrel.
Okay, you probably have lots. But when Tyler Bar, a member of my Game of Thrones crew, mentioned that his girlfriend Leena Bar had just returned from a trip to Iceland and had some candy bars to try, I couldn’t pass up the chance to shoehorn in as many D2: The Mighty Ducks references as I could — lest I get accused of eating ice cream with the enemy.
Leena was kind enough to snag some Pypp bars — a med myntufylling bar, according to its packaging — and some Lakkris bars, which were explicitly recommended to her by a few different Icelanders, an anecdote I am going to use as the basis for my assumption that the Lakkris is Iceland’s favorite treat.
We decided to dive into the Lakkris first. From the packaging (pictured above), we put together that it was either a caramel or light-milk chocolate bar interspersed with some sort of dark matter [Ed. note: Which seemed to be falling from the sky for some reason] made up of coffee beans, rabbit pellets or small cylinders of poison. Leena confirmed it was the last of those. Continue reading
[Ed. note: Sorry about the hiatus, loyal readers. Calendar year-end is like tax season in the fundraising game; I’ve been getting decimated. I hope to up the posting regularity now that things have slowed at least a little bit.]
I’ve spoken at length about how awesome moms are.
Really though, that sentiment doesn’t extend only to nuclear mothers. Grandmas, aunts, sisters, dads, coaches, neighbors … there are any number of people who take time to care about you and offer a guiding, stabilizing presence. And sometimes bake you cookies.
I’ve been fortunate to have no fewer than 7 women who have been mothers to me in one way or another. Jacki Bar, otherwise known as “Mrs. Max” [Ed. note: But not actually Mrs. Max, just his mom], is one of them. In the past decade, she’s come to my regattas, attended my college graduation [Ed. note: granted, Max was there too] and made time to see me whenever she’s been in town.
This summer, she went on some worldly travels and picked up a few bars for me to try. Once the weather cooled down to provide for risk-free shipping [Ed. note: Those moms … always thinkin’], she sent them my way to give a try. Big thanks to Jacki, and a big thanks to all the moms out there.
Nutella B-Ready (Italy)
Once I got past how to enunciate the name of the bar — Be Ready? … Bready? … Be Ready. — there wasn’t much difficult about eating this bar. The outside of the bar was entirely wafer, reminiscent of a compartmentalized, more brittle ladyfinger (the compartments, assumedly, are for breaking off pieces). Each bite was light but not so much so that it was unsatisfying: The Nutella filling brought a needed gravity to the wafer exterior, which had a texture something like the lovechild of a one-night stand between the phyllo in baklava and the inside of a Kit Kat. Thumbs up.
Another bonus: A relatively healthy bar! Only 399 kilojoules!
Cote d’Or (France)
Some straight-up delicious-ass chocolate with hazelnuts. The chocolate was dark, but not so much that it couldn’t be described as milk chocolate, and the tasty hazelnuts gave a welcome crunch. This wouldn’t be my first choice in the French candy aisle, but I would not be mad if it were the only choice. [Ed. note: Which would call into question why the hell that was how that store decided to stock that candy aisle.]
Nougat Stick (France) (There’s probably actually a name for it but I don’t speak French and this was tough for me)
This was a revelation: In the States, it’s very rare you see a nougat not a) encased in chocolate or b) with a jelly center in the bulk candy aisle. This was a whole stick! With indiscriminate nuts (which, upon later inspection, were pistachios and almonds)!
The Nougat Stick was very light, much lighter than most US nougats aside from Three Musketeers, but was slightly chewier than you would expect. It almost had the consistency of a packing peanut, but I mean that as a compliment? I’m as bewildered by that sentence as you probably are, but let me just say, I liked this a lot.
Charles Chocolates Toffee Coffee Bar (California)
I’m a fool for a good toffee bar.
I’m also a fool for a good coffee.
Mix the two together with some dark (but not too dark) chocolate? Dang. This was a good-ass candy bar.
Because of the bitterness of the coffee and dark chocolate, however, it’s not a bar to be eaten in one sitting, more like a break a piece here and there sort of thing. You know, just in case you were thinking otherwise.
No fewer than five different people asked me this week on my thoughts on candy corn, all with the same kind of “this is not really what this question is about” guise as when a Tinder date asks about the last book you read. My two thoughts:
Kit Kat has a penchant for weird flavor combinations. Typically, that’s been reserved for more international fare, but I ran into some Halloween-style combos.
The first of which, pictured above, featured an orange-tinged, white chocolate outer casing with a chocolate filling in between the wafers. Which is another way of saying that it featured an orange-tinged, white chocolate outer casing with it doesn’t matter in between the wafers, because the white chocolateyness of it all overpowered the candy bar.
If you’re a white chocolate fan, man, this bar is for you. Otherwise, give this one to the trick or treaters. They will be excited about the orange and won’t remember it was you.
The only demerits this one gets is for simple counting: They swapped out regular-flavored wafers for chocolate wafers and somehow got to three entire chocolates.
When I passed this at Walgreens, I made a joke to myself. I said, “What, is it chocolate-covered BRAINS?”
I chuckled, very satisfied with my little joke.
Then I read the description that it was actually chocolate-covered brains and felt simultaneously validated and bummed out that a company would actually make a candy bar out of a dad joke.
The bad news is that it was just corn syrup with a metric ton of red dye.
It was a bad candy bar. Happy Halloween, diabetic zombies.