#17 - Usher Twisted Bongos (Chili Mango flavor)

Ah, Halloween...

As I am The Sweets Fiend, it should come as no surprise that I loved Halloween as a child. When the days grew shorter and the trees shed their golden vestments, my sweet tooth nearly rattled with anticipation... candy would soon be mine!

Some might even argue that the entire purpose of this blog is to continue the tradition of receiving free candy (minus the costumes and legwork). Who's to say (well me, but I'm keeping my mouth shut)?

Combing the neighborhood in a possibly uncomfortable costume was a small price to pay for complimentary sugary goodies. In fact, the more uncomfortable the costume, the better; it provided the illusion that I actually earned the candy. I would sit poring over the evening's haul, my feet sore and my head a sweaty mess, proud of all the hard work that went into knocking on doors and exclaiming "Trick or treat!" Ah, the delusions of youth (much more fun than delusions of adulthood)!

Like all holidays, Halloween has become more and more commercialized over the years, to the point where any original significance is overlooked in favor of dressing up and watching scary movies and eating loads of candy (my favorite part). Little thought is given to the fact that it is also known as All Hallows' Eve, which initiates Allhallowtide, the three-day celebration of remembering of the dead.

Even so, I appreciate the fact that Halloween brings communities together like no other modern holiday. After all, what other day involves visiting all of your neighbors (even if done in disguise)? A common illustration of the friendliness of people in days of yore involves one neighbor asking another for a cup of sugar. Halloween is that times 1,000.

Of course, Halloween is not the only celebration of the dead. It is well known, for instance, that our very own (slightly fatter) neighbor to the south, Mexico, celebrates the Day of the Dead (Día de Muertos). The United States has not yet managed to fully commercialize that holiday, but you can bet your bottom dollar we're working on it! I know that I have personally been seeing more and more merchandise with a Día de Muertos theme as of late, most of which was likely made in China.

But I guess some of it could have been made in Mexico. My last car was assembled in Mexico, so I know the country exports more than just people. As a matter of fact, I have within my possession at this very moment a product of Mexican origin: Usher Chili Mango Twisted Bongos!

Cobwebs added for effect. As a general rule, you should not buy candy covered in cobwebs.

This marks my first trip into the world of Mexican candy. I don't recall Mexico being a major force in the American candy market during my lifetime. With ideas like chili mango flavored licorice, I can't imagine why. Maybe it has something to do with the risk of lead poisoning or something.

Anyhow, as much as I do enjoy living on the edge with a diet full of lead-based delicacies, I decided to play it safe this time around and leave the initial inspection to my tried and true robot, TCR-FRESHY 5000 (he skipped a Halloween party for this but insisted on still wearing his costume). I sometimes don't know what I'd do without that little trash heap of aluminum.

The packaging is actually fairly well done. It's colorful, and Usher (which unfortunately has no affiliation with the singer of the same name) bravely chose to include a transparent window so the candy could be seen in all its terrifying glory.

I'm, like, TOTALLY RAD, man!

The  Twisted Bongos mascot is a dog/weasel creature of some sort. He looks very familiar to me; perhaps he's related (second cousin or something) to another mascot somewhere? Regardless, he is crazed with his love for mangos!

His glasses and overbite in conjunction with his backwards cap indicate that he is a social outcast trying his best to be one of the "cool" kids (as if his unnatural love of mangos were not evidence enough). I pity him, really, which I don't believe is the vibe Usher was shooting for. Or maybe it is. Maybe they're counting on guilt purchases. It's just that sort of out-of-the-box thinking that would lead to chili mango licorice, after all.

The art style reminds me vaguely (and bizarrely) of The Very Hungry Caterpillar. I may be alone in the feeling, but I could totally see Eric Carle doing a book about Weazel Dawg (I'm assuming that's the name of the mascot, because what else could it be?).

But enough about Mr. Dawg. He has served as a distraction for much too long (well done, Usher!). Why don't we see what the Twisted Bongos are all about, shall we?

In his eagerness to get to the examination, TCR-FRESHY 5000 tore into the package before I could get proper photographs of it, so please excuse any unsightly rips; I will try to remember to dial down his enthusiasm setting in future reviews.

Sodium? What sodium?

The Nutrition Facts panel shows that a serving size is four pieces, totaling about 86 Calories. That's not so bad. But the table also shows 240mg to be 0% of the recommended daily value (rather than a more accurate 10%). Are Mexicans immune to sodium, is it just a typo, or are Usher employees just sorely lacking basic math skills? It is alarming how often I come across errors like this in my sweets exploits. I'm starting to think "Nutrition Opinions" would be a more fitting name for such charts.

I was glad to see that the package included a nice, big "Best Before" date by the ingredients list, and that that date was far into the future:

If these ingredients were randomly selected, I would not be surprised.

I do not, however, understand why the date was upside down or so carelessly placed. Too much tequila available in the Usher packaging plant?

I was almost shocked at how normal the ingredients list was. I don't know what I was expecting (lead, maybe?), but it was practically a disappointment to not see any disconcerting components (gelatinous mutant coconut comes to mind).

That being said, just because ingredients may sound innocent on their own does not mean I would necessarily consider combining them in a candy. Some pairings can be disastrous (take J.J. Abrams and lens flares, for instance), and I am really hoping that the creators of Twisted Bongos knew what they were doing here. I mean, the product must've gone through taste testing and everything, right? To be honest, I'm not holding my breath (my lung capacity is deplorable)...

One last note on the back of the package: between the recycling/anti-litter graphics and storage instructions, it says "THIS PACKAGE MAY NOY BE RECYCLABLE IN YOUR AREA." A small typo, perhaps, but TCR-FRESHY 5000 spotted it immediately. I'm just mentioning it in case Usher happens to see this and wants to correct it (along with the more glaring nutritional error) before starting production on a new batch of Twisted Bongos. You're welcome. Feel free to return the favor sometime.

 As there is nothing more of interest on the package, it is time to proceed within and explore the intricacies of the chili mango Twisted Bongos (vicariously, of course).

Don't open that... NOOO!

Upon removal of the outer wrapping, the candy gave off a familiar smell that I could not place; my wife suggested it smelled like her apple tea, and she may very well be right. I am personally not a big fan of tea, especially in my candy, so it did not bode well. I suppose it could have been a a chili/mango combo scent of sorts, but I'm sticking with my wife on this one.

Commencing extraction...

At a glance, the licorice sticks resembled beef sticks. A closer inspection revealed a coating (or "frost," if you will) of crushed red pepper flakes. I didn't find the look to be all that appetizing for candy. But it wasn't the worst I've seen, by any means. Not at all.

TCR-FRESHY 5000s chemical sensors detected no objectionable material in the sticks, which was promising. Then again, I don't believe they have EVER detected objectionable material, so they may just not work properly. Oh, well. I suppose it wouldn't kill me to try one either way. Would it?

I am happy to say that no, it would not. And it did not (though it would've made this blog entry a lot more mysterious if it had).

TCR-FRESHY 5000 has such a flair for the dramatic.

It was chewy and a little rubbery (as all licorice is) with a definite kick to it, and it wasn't nearly as horrible as one might expect. The ghastly ideas conjured up by my imagination were (mostly) unwarranted. The chili and mango flavors did not mix too well on my palate, but the mango flavoring itself was adequate (it was a tad more artificial-tasting than it should have been), and almost nice, even.

I believe my exact words to my wife were "I'm not hating it." But neither was I particularly liking it. I managed to eat two sticks (i.e., half a serving), but was satisfied with that and have no desire to take part in the Twisted Bongo experience again (sorry, Weazel Dawg). A little goes a long way.

But believe it or not, I would not call Usher's chili mango flavored Twisted Bongos a failure of a candy. I think it does have a place in the sweets world; I would, however, say that it is a niche product with a limited target audience (at least in the USA), of which I am not a part.

I therefore am rating the chili mango Twisted Bongos a 1. It was not my cup of tea (despite smelling like it), and it would take some extraneous circumstances to find me eating another one. If you are a heat fiend, you might disagree; you might even enjoy the unusual pairing. But I am not a heat fiend. I am a sweets fiend through and through, and this treat did nothing for me.

In short, if the thought of mango licorice covered in red pepper flakes does not appeal to you, don't worry that you're missing out. This candy is not for you.

Also, I do not recommend handing Usher Chili Mango Twisted Bongos out for Halloween, unless you want to be that house. Nobody wants to be that house.

Maybe give pennies instead. Those are always such a hit with kids.

Hoping for a hauntingly happy Halloween,
The Sweets Fiend

I could probably use some sun.

#16 - Lammes Candies Texas Chewie Pecan Praline

There is an old expression, "out of sight, out of mind," which implies that that which is not in one's sight is easily forgotten (not being on one's mind and all). Like other such sayings, it should be taken with a grain of salt (not literally), as there are naturally plenty of cases in which it is not true (particularly if you are blind). Alternatively, "out of sight" is an old slang phrase to describe something as wonderful or awesome, and to be out of one's mind is to lose control of one's mental faculties, so one could argue that the expression could rather be making the point that it's difficult to think straight while in a euphoric state. To my knowledge, it has never in the history of the world been used in such a manner, but it would be every bit as true, if you ask me (which you didn't).

Today, I refer to the expression in the more common (i.e., correct) usage, as I recently (as well as not as recently) have forgotten about a particular sweet given to me by one of my generous benefactors. Having been tucked out of my sight but in with the rest of my candy stash, it slipped out of my mind without the faintest warning and stayed there for several months.

The human brain is like that.

Then, just as rapidly (and again without warning), it popped back into my mind with a sense of urgency. The human brain is like that, too. So fickle!

Anyway, I wasted no time in seeking out the neglected candy, which turned out to be the "world famous" Lammes Candies Texas Chewie Pecan Praline (you may clap in excitement if you wish)!

A real celebrity in my home! I'm so starstruck!

Despite having lived in this world my entire life, I had never heard of this candy (nor Lammes, for that matter), though both have been around for more than a century (130 years, to be exact). Lammes has a pretty awesome (one might even say "out of sight") history, having been lost in a poker game (never bet your candy, folks) and bought back by the founder's son for a cool $800 (both in 1885; what a year!). The Texas Chewie Pecan Praline is currently their best seller, so I'm sure to be in for something special.

The Lammes logo is what I presume to be a lamb dreaming of being whatever the sheep equivalent of Superman or Supergirl is (based on the "flying" pose of the front legs). He or she seems to be enjoying the dream quite a bit, in fact; I'd like to think the dream also involves delivering chocolates to good children and adults alike. Aside from that, there's not much to the packaging, but that's okay with me. A minimalist approach to design is perfectly fine for a product like this.

First place in the "scary costume" contest.

A comparison to images on the Lammes Candies website leads me to believe my candy endured untold hardships on its journey to my mailbox. If he were alive today, I'm not sure even David Lamme, Sr., himself would recognize the object in the wrapper as a Texas Chewie Pecan Praline (though the text might give him a clue).

It is unfortunate, not only because I am unable to experience the praline in all its glory, but because it has severely hindered the readability of the wording on the packaging (though I would guess that it would be difficult to read in any condition).

The back side looks no better than the front. It exhibits the wretched state of the confection in tragic clarity and contains a crimson rectangle of mysterious origin and meaning. Was my sample tagged for some reason? Did it win a red ribbon for some accomplishment (such as surviving the arduous voyage)? In the immortal words of the riveting Alien Storm conclusion, "nobody knows and there is no way to find out."

I could find no expiration date anywhere on the wrapper. This was a big part of the reason I had forgotten about this particular candy, actually; I have my candy (or rather, my wife does) organized according to expiration date to eliminate the risk of spoilage, but the Texas Chewie Pecan Praline, having no such information, was off in limbo (just like the Alien Storm "tremendous three").

Therefore, it could very well be past its prime. Or it could (more likely) be just fine. A quick unwrapping should settle that in a jiffy!

I can't believe it's not butter! Oh, wait... it is!

Removing the wrapper allows one to actually read what's written on it. Of course, it would be too late for the consumer to change his or her mind at this point; smart move, Lammes Candies! Another example of their cleverness is the requirement of a phone call to obtain nutritional information. When one is considering the purchase of candy, calling customer service tends to be low on the list of priorities, and I would be surprised if they've ever actually received even one call from a consumer regarding the nutritional information. I know they have received no such call from me. As such, I have no ideas or thoughts concerning the nutrition facts of the "Texas Chewie" (out of sight, out of mind, after all). I will therefore eat it under the assumption that it is a healthy snack, because, hey, why not?

The package does, however, include the ingredients list, which is fairly standard, although I find it interesting that both butter AND margarine (the invention of which, believe it or not, was commissioned by Napoleon) are used. Who knew the two could live together so harmoniously? It's a lesson in peace for all of humanity.

Imagine this throbbing for greater effect.

As I said earlier (you WERE paying attention, weren't you?), my praline appeared to have been through a lot during its lifetime and was not showing itself in the best light (says the man who provided the lighting). Its malleability allows it to be deformed with ease, almost like silly putty (but probably much more edible). I could see this being a huge hit with children because of it.

My specific specimen resembled some undefined organ from some as-of-yet unknown creature (terrestrial or otherwise). Even so, it seemed to be in decent condition to my untrained eye (and nose). I do have to admit, there was a brief moment when I considered I should have enlisted the help of my trusty robot assistant, TCR-FRESHY 5000 (who has helped me in the past once or twice), but what was done was done, and I had no choice but to continue on my own.

So I ate it, and Lammes Candies did not do me wrong.

The Texas Chewie Pecan Praline was not the best pecan praline I've ever come across, but it hit all the right marks. It was good and chewy (as suggested by the name), apart from the pecans, which obviously had the consistency of pecans (also suggested by the name), and it tasted... well, like a pecan praline should!

So, all in all, I liked it, but I don't think it quite lived up to the hype. If I were to purchase a selection of chocolate goodies from Lammes Candies, I would certainly include the "Texas Chewie" in the mix, though I might not purchase one on its own, and I doubt it would be my favorite of their offerings.

Therefore, I rank the Lammes Candies Texas Chewie Pecan Praline a 3. It's a good product from what seems to me to be a good company, and I'd recommend checking them out if you happen to be in Austin, Texas (or order from them online, even; you can't go wrong!). I know I wouldn't mind crossing paths with them again.

Until then, I bid Lammes Candies a sweet adieu, with wishes for another 130 years of success.

And I suggest they refrain from playing poker. That'd just be best for everyone.

Out of sight but never out of mind,
The Sweets Fiend

There are two sides to every Texas Chewie Pecan Praline. This is not one of them (it's the other).

#15 - Nestlé Violet Crumble

There is a well known poem which goes something like this (or exactly like this, even):

  Roses are red,
  Violets are blue,
  Sugar is sweet,
  And so are you.

While I'm all for mentioning sugar in poetry, the poem is a failure on many levels. For one thing, the first half has no bearing at all on the second half. It's as if the author lost his train of thought in the middle of the poem. For another, I'm pretty sure violets tend to be violet, hence the name; it's just not so easy to rhyme with "violet," which makes me wonder why the author chose violets to begin with. I'm guessing he began the sentence without considering the end and realized too late that "violet" has no rhyme. It brings me back to my childhood, when I would try to create a comic strip and draw the word bubbles without taking into account the text that would need to fit within them. I would find myself in a situation I think we have all been in at one time or another (perhaps metaphorically), where the writing would need to become smaller and smaller as it approached the impending edge of the bubble (some people continue outside the edge, but that just makes things worse). It seems my characters had the tendency to trail off as they talked...

Anyhow, as I've written a poem or two in my lifetime, I figured I'd try my hand at constructing a poem with similar sensibilities to the one above. So here goes:

  Apples are red,
  Oranges are orange,
  Candy is good,
  Oops, I can't make this rhyme.

Wow, I guess it's more difficult than I thought to account for the end of a poem like this. I mean, it involves thinking ahead TWO WHOLE LINES, and who has time for that?

But speaking of things with the word "violet" in them that seem to lack focus and have not been thought out too well, today's candy is the one and only Violet Crumble by Nestlé:

Everything you see here is essentially a lie.

I have tried several Nestlé products at this point with various levels of enjoyment, but, to the best of my knowledge, this would be the first hailing from the Land Down Under. Australia is known for unique animals, like the vicious koala, the wacky (and venomous) platypus, and the mischievous kangaroo, just to name a few. Therefore, I'm hoping for a unique experience here. However, Australia is also known for Vegemite, which I don't think anyone outside of Australians is capable of comprehending. So this could go either way.

I think everyone's initial thought upon seeing the Violet Crumble package is this: "Violent Crumble" would be a much cooler name. While that is naturally true, it may not be accurate; maybe the candy is made of violet powder or something? I don't know. I prefer flour to flower, but I will give it a chance.

A quick look on the edge of the package reveals the slogan "It's the way it shatters that matters." Kudos for rhyming, Nestlé, but shattering and crumbling are two very different things, so I'm a little confused by the slogan. I would also have to disagree with the general sentiment, because, call me old-fashioned, but I believe taste matters as much as shatterability (I'm thinking of trademarking that word). To further confuse the issue (and consumer), the product is described as "Delicious shattering choc covered honeycomb." Yes, "Violet Crumble" explains that with foolproof clarity. I think maybe the name was chosen before the candy bar was created and they just stuck with it. The not-very-appetizing artist's rendition of the bar looks like it may have a slight violet tint to it, so it's possible that's where the name comes from, but for now, I'm assuming it is just another poor packaging job by Nestlé. I've often criticized the lack of effort put into Nestlé's packaging and am afraid this is just one more unfortunate casualty (as opposed to a fortunate casualty, of course).

Not quite 24601, but it'll do.

Thankfully, I've just made the "best before" date. There are actually two strings of numbers in the section. I guess one is in a unique Australian dating system or something. Or it could be the prison number of the convict who packaged the candy. After all, Australia is also known for its convicts (which may or may not have been a factor in Hugh Jackman being selected for the part of Jean Valjean).

Regardless of their meaning, I doubt the extra numbers are any cause for concern, so I will (like the aforementioned poet) forget what I was talking about before continuing on to the next line.

By the way, did you know that sugar is sweet?

Don't let the box on the left distract you from the bright and shiny red one!

The nutritional information is pretty normal, except that Australia has decided to measure the energy content in kilojoules rather than kilocalories. This means an American consumer must divide by 4.184 (or 4, if you're lazy) to get the Calorie count, so the Violet Crumble is about 237 Calories. That's not half bad, given the size of the bar. However, the protein total is surprisingly low, even for a candy bar.

To the right of the nutritonal panel is a "life's all about balance" motto with Nestlé's creed regarding a healthy lifestyle, which could be summed up with "You should not be eating this candy bar." I'm glad to hear that Nestlé is willing to believe what is so obviously true. I would be very concerned indeed if Nestlé believed that sitting on a couch all day eating junk food was the way to perfect health (though how I wish that were the case).

Déjà vu all over again!

Under the flap, the wrapper contains an additional, though more concise, nutritional chart. I guess it's a nice touch for consumers who are too busy to look at an entire chart with columns and all. It's like the CliffsNotes of nutrition!

The ingredients list can be found to the right of the Nestlé manifesto:

Is the glucose syrup in my bar derived from wheat or corn? Nobody knows.

I can find nothing frightening in the ingredients list, which is always a positive sign. The Violet Crumble is 99% compounded chocolate and honeycomb, which fits the description nicely. It may also contain trace amounts of peanuts and tree nuts. That's right, the Violet Crumble is more likely to contain peanuts than anything related to the word "violet." I defy anyone to look at the list of ingredients and explain how the name "Violet Crumble" could be derived from them. Like rhyming with "orange," it simply cannot be done.

Below the ingredients list is contact information for consumer services. I would bet the majority of their time is spent attempting to answer questions about the name of the product.

But the packaging doesn't really matter so much; the important thing is how it shatters, right? To be honest, I wasn't very interested in shattering the Violet Crumble, nor did I know whether or not shattering was meant to be done before unwrapping the bar (as no instructions were included), so I just opened it up and...

Well, Nestlé has surprised me in the past upon opening one of their products, but never before have I been so baffled and disturbed by a candy bar. I don't know if the look was intentional or I just received a defective bar, but it did not look right to me. To be frank, I do not find the design to be appropriate for all ages (or any age, for that matter), and as this is not that kind of blog, I will leave it at that and move along...

I do have to say it oddly smelled better than most Nestlé products I've come across. I guess that's something.

This is called a Violet Crumble. No, really.

Unlike the artwork on the front of the package, there was no hint of a non-chocolate tint to the candy. In fact, there is still no sign at all as to how the name has any relation whatsoever to the candy bar, which makes me wonder if the name were conceived in a game of Apples to Apples.

A quick internet search finally puts the mystery to rest, revealing that the "violet" in the name refers to the favorite flower of the candy bar creator's wife. Well, that makes plenty of sense, then. Additionally, the search reveals that the original slogan was "Nothing else matters," which is a very sobering thought (I think Metallica did a song about the Violet Crumble a while back). I am grateful for the slogan change, as I do not think I would want to live in a world where the only thing that matters is the Violet Crumble.

That's the way the violet crumbles...

I tried breaking the bar in half to see how it shattered and was surprised how cleanly it broke. I expected dangerously pointy shards to take flight in all sorts of directions (potentially at my face; I was taking a big risk), but there was very little shattering going on. It did give me a decent look at the honeycomb within.

To be fair, whacking the bar against a hard surface would likely exhibit the shattering properties more accurately, but I was in no mood to make such a mess while hungry for some candy.

And there was, in fact, a cross between a crumbling and shattering effect as I bit into the Violet Crumble. I was rather impressed by that, given how low my expectations had gotten. It wasn't an entirely welcome surprise, however; it brought to mind the last time I went on a bicycle ride and the brakes fell apart while I pedaled. I prefer my treats not try to escape while I'm eating them. Just one of my quirks, I guess.

Despite the claims, that didn't matter to me much. As I said before, it was the taste I cared about, and sadly, I was not wowed by the Violet Crumble. It was just... okay at best. I've had competing products before, and all were better (in my opinion, anyway) than Nestlé's attempt. My wife did not care for it at all.

It had chocolate. It had honeycomb. It shattered/crumbled. But I was underwhelmed in all it had to offer.

Still, I do think I might eat one again if I were in the mood for a sweet and one was offered to me with no better alternatives. Thus, I rate the Nestlé Violet Crumble a disappointed 2.

I feel like a broken record saying this, but I think Nestlé needs to up their game. Too often have I found their candy to be flirting with mediocrity rather than smashing it in a violent crumble (see what I did there?). There's a lot of potential to the company, though, and I wait eagerly for the day Nestlé will shock me with greatness. It could happen!

So, Nestlé, if you're listening, I still believe in you. Really I do.

Just not in the way that you believe proper nutrition and physical activity combined with positive lifestyle choices are important in maintaining good health.

With wishes as sweet as sugar,
The Sweets Fiend

You've never seen such shattering!