#1 - Eiffel Bon Bons (strawberry flavor)

Unless you've studied my genealogy (I'm sure you've thought about it), you would probably not know that I'm 1/16th French (well, French Canadian, really; I surrender politely). In addition, I took three years of French classes in high school, scoring A's in all but one quarter, which was primarily on the culture (I managed only a B, which my family is quick to remind me of at every opportunity). While my French skills may have atrophied over the years (and were not much to brag about to begin with), I can still adequately mispronounce basic phrases, such as "Où est la bibliothèque?" Why a student with limited knowledge of French would be so inclined to request the location of a multitude of books written in French is beyond my ability to grasp, but I suppose the teachers must have known what they were doing.

Why am I telling you all this, you may ask? Well, my inaugural candy up for review happens to be a product of France. With my credentials stated above, you will clearly have no doubts about how qualified I am in coming to a proper verdict here.

So, without further ado, I present to you Eiffel Bon Bons (strawberry flavor):

I hope this is French enough for you.

I think it's safe to say that the first thing anybody is going to notice about the package is the large pink character (presumably a bon bon himself) encouraging you to eat his fellow bon-bon-folk. Not cool, Mr. Bon Bon. Not cool. Is candy really more appealing when one is under the illusion that each morsel has a life of its own? With the prevalence of candy characters, the answer must be a resounding YES! The human mind is clearly a dark and twisted place.

Let's take a closer look at Mr. Bon Bon (as he shall henceforth be known):

Don't his friends look delicious? Mmmm!

In addition to his willingness to sacrifice his kin for your enjoyment, he also seems keen on promoting French stereotypes. I have never been to France myself, but I would wager a guess that tourists to the country are frequently disappointed by the lack of berets and mustaches. On a side note, Mr. Bon Bon also vaguely reminds me of a Saddam Hussein caricature. I'm not sure if that makes things better or worse.

Once I got past the initial scrutiny of Mr. Bon Bon (if one can really ever get past such a thing), I took a peek at the candy through the convenient little window. My first impression was that they looked like pink cheese balls. The package claims, however, that this is a chewy candy. That rules out any relation to cheese balls (except for that one cheese ball I had that was well beyond its "best by" date). Curiouser and curiouser.

Go on, rub it in.

Looking over the back of the package revealed a boast about fulfilling the candy needs of students and foreign language groups for over 20 years. I'm not sure I've ever come across a candy with a more specific target demographic. Kudos to knowing who you are, Eiffel!

My wife has told me that she received Bon Bons in French class, validating the claim. My class was never so lucky, but I firmly believe that the notorious B would never have happened had candy been involved.

(By the way, if you didn't know, "bonbons" means "candy" in French, so the candy is essentially named "candy." Very clever, there!)

A quick look at the nutritional (I use that term loosely) facts indicates that each Bon Bon is about 14 Calories, which isn't too bad, and the serving size is a generous 10 pieces:

It's practically a health food!

Try as I might (and I did try), I could not find an expiration date on the packaging. I took that to mean that they're as good as new forever. It just seemed like the most logical explanation.

With the packaging fully examined, it was time to dig in and see how these things actually tasted! It was easy enough to open, which is appreciated by those of us who have been weakened by a diet consisting mainly of sugar.

Behold the chewy strawberry goodness!

As I got a glimpse of them for the first time with no clear plastic to get in the way, visions of cheese balls still danced through my head. I picked one up and examined it more closely. It seemed much too hard to actually chew and had a decent heftiness to it. My nose suggested a hint of Strawberry Quik. I was intrigued.

Upon popping one into my mouth, my foremost impression was disbelief. It really WAS chewy after all. Despite the package's promise, all of my investigating had been pointing towards crunchiness. My second impression was that it was pretty good, and sweet. The strawberry flavoring was definitely more artificial than natural (as would be expected by the ingredients). It was a very familiar taste that I can still not place; it reminded me somewhat of strawberry Laffy Taffy, but the consistency leaned more towards a Now and Later. All in all, it was a good chew.

To be honest, I struggled with rating this one. I truly did. My initial impulse was a 3, but upon further consideration I decided to lower it to a 2 (a large 2, but a 2 nonetheless). I asked myself "If I came across this in a store, would I be likely to buy it again?" I probably wouldn't.

It was no fault of the candy itself. It's a fine enough candy, and it delivers on all it promises; I would even recommend it to anyone who enjoys tough, chewy candy. I just don't see myself craving it again any time soon; I don't believe I've even eaten a complete serving in one sitting (which is saying something).

I almost feel I've let Mr. Bon Bon down. But, hey, a 2 is a respectable score, after all. Keep up the good work with those students and foreign language groups!

'Til next we meet in all things sweet,
The Sweets Fiend

Quarter shown for scale. Do not try to eat quarters.

The Adventure Begins

Welcome. Before continuing, there are two things you should know:

1. I am a sweets fiend (at least that's what my wife says). I do not have a sweet tooth; I have an entire mouth full of them (a fact my dentist can attest to).
2. I have awesome friends. A few years ago, two friends returned from a trip to Scotland, bringing along a generous selection of European candy for me. I decided to write a review of each candy with pictures and all - the whole works! Unfortunately, the project was cut short by a colony of ants who mistook our pantry for their own. It was an honest mistake, no doubt. Since then, my wife has been encouraging (i.e. badgering) me to start reviewing candy again, and her persistence has finally overcome my laziness.

I thus present to you the Diary of a Sweets Fiend, wherein I shall dispense reviews of candy, snacks, and other unhealthy items of an allegedly edible nature, both domestic and foreign (to me, anyway), with the sophistication and integrity deserved to said delicacies.

Keep in mind I have no tastes other than my own, and mine may be lousy in your eyes (you may want to get your eyes checked, just to be sure). I will like things you may dislike (and vice versa), and my opinions are therefore worthless. Nevertheless, a rating system has been devised to fool you into thinking there is some value in what I think. The ratings are as follows:

The rating system. I'll understand if its beauty brings tears to your eyes.

Each review will also include sufficient pictures of the subject to support my decision and delight your visual cortex.

Well, then.

Now that we have the pleasantries out of the way, dear reader(s), I hope you will join me in traveling the world through the magic of candy (and whatnot). It would be pointless without you. It is pointless even with you, but that's not your fault, so don't take it personally. Regardless, be prepared for one wild ride of successes and failures, triumphs and defeats, and things that make you go "What?!"

This should be fun.

With a sprinkling of sincerity,
The Sweets Fiend