#2 - Milka & Daim

Two years ago (nearly to the day, give or take a week) some friends from Germany dropped by, bearing gifts of chocolate. Yes, people will travel from all ends of the Earth to bring me candy. They were quick to enlighten me regarding the intricacies of European candy. Mainly, I was informed that not all European chocolate is created equal, and one must be wary of the lesser brands. One of the better brands is Milka, they told me, and the samples they brought supported their hypothesis wholeheartedly. I have since come across a small selection of Milka bars here and there, but the timing just hasn't been right, and so I've remained Milka-less... until now.

Therefore, it is with the greatest pleasure and trepidation that I present to you the second of my sweet adventures, the Milka & Daim chocolate bar:

Thar's GOLD in them thar bars!

Now, what is this "Milka & Daim" name all about? It's quite simple, really. The Daim bar was Sweden's answer to America's Heath bar (in other words, toffee can be expected), and Milka & Daim is a Milka chocolate bar with pieces of Daim bar mixed in. Or, as the Milka website so eloquently puts it, "Milka & Daim ist der zartschmelzende Schokoladengenuss aus Alpenmilch Schokolade aus 100% Alpenmilch mit knackigen Daim-Stückchen."

So what happens when Germany and Sweden combine forces in one candy bar? Let's find out, shall we? Yes. Yes, we shall.

To begin, I find the package eye-catching and appealing. The color scheme manages to be soothing even while evoking excitement (much like Chuck Norris singing a lullaby) and captures the respective Milka and Daim branding with finesse.

Why is she purple? To be honest, I don't really care.

Speaking of branding, the Milka cow (see what I did there?) appears trustworthy to me, even though her vivid hues lie on the wrong portion of the chromatic spectrum (I like to think the wrapper was designed to suit her coloring rather than the other way around). Trustworthiness is not a trait common to cows. Think about it for a moment, and I'm sure you'll wind up in agreement. Not that I blame them, mind you; historically, human-bovine relations have not exactly been in the cows' favor. Maybe her bell keeps her in check. I can't say for sure. At the end of the day, I trust the Milka cow, and that's enough.

If every part of this image does not cause an uncontrollable
emptying of your salivary glands, you may have a problem.

The Daim side of the wrapper is exploding with energy and flash. It also does not hurt things at all to see that the bar was marked 55% off (due to its "best by" date rapidly approaching).

All in all, the wrapper is masterfully done, and certain candy manufacturers (who shall remain nameless) should take note. It tells you all you need to know about the candy without trying too hard. The back even includes a small diagram on opening the candy bar, lest you should have difficulty accomplishing the task on your own (I'll be honest, I probably would have). Well done, Milka!

One bar provides 25% of your daily caloric needs. Who could ask for more?

The ingredient list is nothing unusual. In fact, it would probably even pass muster among those suffering from Hellenologophobia (look it up, unless you're too scared). The sticker also subtly announces that I have missed the "best by" date (which is really for the store more than consumer anyhow), and that it is a Kraft product (they do more than macaroni and cheese, after all).

The ingredients and nutrition facts also suggest that eating this bar and losing weight are mutually exclusive goals. In the interest of science and the betterment of all mankind (or at least YOU, loyal reader(s)), I have chosen to pursue the less noble of the two goals. You can thank me later.

Shhh.... Don't tell anyone this is here.

Before I opened the wrapper (carefully following the guide, of course), I decided to take a quick look under the flap on the back, where I discovered the contact information and Mondelēz International logo (which Kraft  Foods, Inc. became in 2012). I felt as if I had discovered some hidden information meant only for members of a secret society (maybe I was just crazed with hunger for some sweet, sweet chocolate).

Anyhow, it seemed about time to actually try out this confectionery collaboration. Here is what I saw upon peeling away the wrapper:

Is this chocolate bar mooning you? It very well may be.

I understand that logistics probably dictated that the Milka & Daim bar's back side be your first glimpse during the opening process, but it's hardly flattering. Have you ever visited a friend, and he (or she) opened the door to welcome you with his (or her) back turned toward you (hair, warts, and all)? There is a reason that doesn't happen (with a few exceptions; you know who you are). Milka & Daim, you're better than that. You really are.

Fortunately, the front of the bar was a beautiful thing, with the Milka logo imprinted into each delicious-looking segment. And delicious they were! The chocolate was creamy, the toffee was crunchy, and each bite left me craving more. I am not often overcome with the hankering for a chocolate and toffee candy bar, but I will most certainly keep Milka & Daim in mind for when I am.

I gladly give Milka & Daim a 4. It may have an ugly side, but that is soon forgiven and forgotten. Besides, what was more upsetting was when I realized I had finished the last piece (and just in case you're concerned for my health, I did NOT eat the entire bar in one sitting, nor even one day). That's the mark of a truly good candy.

So, I ask again, what happens when Germany and Sweden combine forces in one candy bar? I propose that the answer is good things. Very good things.

Sweet dreams and even sweeter realities,
The Sweets Fiend

This photo was taken after the testing; the candy bar thankfully does not come pre-enjoyed.