#30 - Malaco Gott & Blandat (original)

From my earliest days, I have always had a fondness (i.e., obsession) for candy. That should be obvious to even the most oblivious of human beings. I should know, as I have, from my earliest days, been one of those oblivious people I speak of. Case in point: I had spent many years enjoying Good & Plenty candies before coming to the realization (even though it was clearly stated on the box) that they were actually licorice (I was also clueless to the fact that their catchy song was based upon the tragic, yet heroic story of Casey Jones; way to make light of death, Good & Plenty!). Perhaps it was the candy coating, or their resemblance to pills (I'm a little surprised that's never been an issue, to be honest; there's nothing like encouraging kids to pop pills!), or even Jason Alexander's endorsement, but, whatever the reason, I was convinced they possessed their own unique taste. Which I guess is a win for them.

Anyhow, it is an embarrassing and disgraceful tale (in particular for a sweets fiend) which I would like to forget (hence my immortalizing it on the world wide web), but I had the pleasure of reliving it anew with today's candy: Malaco Gott & Blandat (original)!

Shame comes in many languages.

Now, Google's flawless translator tells me "Gott & Blandat" (which sounds like a Swedish crime-fighting duo to me) means "Well (or 'good') & Mixed." If you ask me (and you should), that's awfully close to "Good & Plenty," and, given that a little internet research suggests that the two candies share a common ancestor (from an ownership standpoint), it's not too much of a stretch to imagine that this may be a descendant of the product responsible for (or, rather, involved in) my aforementioned humiliation.

In spite of this, and in spite of the fact that once again licorice-like items are clearly displayed on the packaging (not to mention the transparent window showcasing the candy itself in all its glory), it did not occur to me that Gott & Blandat might contain (at least in part) licorice, which is quickly becoming my frenemy in the world of sweets.

Fool me twice, shame on me. Or something like that.

At any rate, back to the packaging... It's fairly well done; the colors are bright, the name is prominently displayed, and the artwork is appealing. It is also nice to be able to see the actual product via the handy "window" already mentioned. But its solid blue motif doesn't exactly wow the consumer. It is almost a tad bland, one might say (or "blandat," if one happened to be Swedish). So, it's a solid effort, but some minor adjustments wouldn't be out of order.

Fun game: try to spot the "best before" date!

The "best before" date is on the back of the package, practically hidden (though in plain sight) within a block of numbers and letters. As usual, I started on the bag a couple of days before finishing this review, so I just barely made it in time. That is always a relief!

Beneath the date (and mass of the package) is a little box suggesting other versions of Gott & Blandat (in this case, "salt" and "favorit mix;" they've recently announced a fruit salad version, too!). I know it's meant to entice the consumer into buying additional products, but at times it can seem to imply "Why didn't you buy one of these instead?"

Still, I am glad to have received a bag of the original flavor, as I feel it should provide the purest Gott & Blandat experience.

On a side note, I would like to mention that the name Malaco (owned by Cloetta, who I've come across with some success once or twice) comes from the first two letters of each of the words in "Malmö Lakrits Compani" (Malmö is one of the largest cities in Sweden, and "lakrits" means "licorice"). So they're pretty serious about their licorice. I don't know how serious they are about their fruit-flavored gummy candies, but I'm hoping for my sake that they're not a one trick pony (or one-way monkey, if you prefer).

WARNING: Staring at this photo may cause depression.

The nutrition facts section is about as dull as any I've ever seen. No frills here! Just... blue. And, I should probably point out that I've slightly brightened the informational images for easier reading; in even slightly dim lighting, the tiny black text on deep blue background can be a real challenge to read. It also brings an almost overwhelming drabness to the back of the package (and a sense of hopelessness to the consumer). Imagine a child sadly looking out a window pane dripping with rain and you will have a general idea of the feelings brought forth by the design (and I use that term very loosely) of the bag's posterior.

I could find no suggested serving size (unless the 100g is it, though that refers to over 60% of the bag), so I guess one is just meant to eat until one has had one's fill of the snacks. The Calorie count is higher than in, say, a typical gummy bear, but I believe this may be a different type of gummy, so that might account for it. We shall see. Then again, it might just be a less healthy alternative to normal American gummy candy. That would be a real feat!

At this point in my life, I have sampled a handful of Swedish candies, so I know to expect an ingredients list in no less than three languages. Gott & Blandat does not disappoint. At least, I don't think it does; as I've said, it can be difficult to read what's written on the packaging.

Drab times three.

Seeing sugar as the first ingredient is always encouraging. There are also ingredients some might find frightening, like E153, E140, and E120, to name a few. Those are just European secret code names for food additives. Because I guess "E320" sounds less scary than "Butylated hydroxyanisole" or something.

What can I say, government agencies excel at obfuscation.

The nice thing about having the list in multiple languages is that it increases the likelihood of recognizing words even if one is not well versed in any of the supplied languages. For instance, I notice the candy contains ammonium chloride, which I first encountered in Cloetta's Ahlgrens bilar Saltlakrits. I am not so sure I am happy about that (I have "blandat" feelings about it), as I had blamed that particular chemical (possibly without justification) for spoiling the taste of the licorice.

Given the mixed shapes and colors of the candies featured on (and within) the packaging, the ingredients list actually seems a bit short. How can they get so many hues (and presumably flavors) with such a limited array of ingredients? That's Malaco's secret (but maybe it has something to do with all those E numbers).

Having exhausted the data on the back of the bag, there was nothing left to do but tear it open and see for myself what Gott & Blandat was all about.

So I did just that.

Fruits, animals, forms of transportation... Gott & Blandat has it all!

I was pleasantly surprised by the variety in the forms taken by the candy. True, I knew there would be a mix (it's in the name, after all), but I did not expect a truck. Generally speaking, I never expect a truck in a bag of candy. But lo and behold, there it was, along with a fish, a sailboat, and (everyone's favorite, I'm sure), a black cat (who obviously warranted his/her own picture).

In addition to the various sights, the bag released the familiar bouquet of scents common in any such bag of gummy candy. Overall, the "grand opening" was a pleasant affair. A closer inspection, however, revealed a disproportionate distribution of flavors. My package was dominated by black and yellow pieces, with hardly a green or orange to be found. Maybe the green and orange pieces are more expensive to produce. Whatever the reason, it was just as well, as they did not do much for my taste buds.

The candies were denser and tougher to chew than I'd have thought, but not to the point of diminishing one's enjoyment. As each color had its own flavor (any difference in taste due to shape is a figment of the imagination), I will offer a brief description of each:

• BLACK: Probably the most plentiful in my bag, and unfortunately my least favorite (also the toughest to chew). They were far more like the Ahlgrens bilar Saltlakrits licorice (which I should have surmised) than the Good & Plenty type I was so hoping for. If you're Swedish, you may consider that a good thing. I am not, and I don't. To be blunt, I did not like them.
• RED: Totally unsurprising, but comfortably so. The flavor was exactly as one would anticipate a red gummy candy to have. They were nothing special, but probably my second favorite nonetheless.
• ORANGE: Decent orange flavor. There were not many of these at all, so my experience with them was limited, but they were fine. I'd place them right smack in the middle, taste-wise.
• YELLOW: Easily my favorite. The lemon flavor was rich and satisfying. I could have eaten an entire bag of just the yellow candies and was glad to find that my package contained a healthy supply of them.
• GREEN: Not much to say about this one. I believe I only received two in the bag, and neither left an impression on me. They are quite forgettable with an uninteresting taste.

 As a whole, I found Malaco's Gott & Blandat underwhelming. Aside from the yellow pieces, the candies were average at best (and sub-par at worst). Thus, I rate this candy a 2; I would not feel compelled to purchase another package, but if I came across a bowlful, I wouldn't mind snagging one of the better pieces, particularly a lemon-flavored one.

That's always the risk in a mixed candy: some flavors will be better than others, and some may not be very good at all (hence the term "mixed bag"). With this in mind, Gott & Blandat is aptly named. One just needs to understand that "good" and "mixed" might be mutually exclusive.

I should have seen that coming.

Forever oblivious,
The Sweets Fiend

I would eat four of these. Five if I were desperate.