Alfred Bernhard Nobel was a wealthy armaments (dealing largely with iron, mind you) tycoon (known in particular for inventing dynamite). Due to journalistic negligence (good to know that's been around for more than a century), he had the rare opportunity to read his obituary while still alive (being confused with a brother who had died), where he was given the title "Merchant of Death." This brought him to a moment of enlightenment wherein he realized that the legacy he had thus far been establishing (death and destruction, of course) was perhaps less than ideal. Therefore, he decided to devote his vast fortune and resources to the benefit of mankind (mainly, by setting up the Nobel Prize, for which his name is probably best known in modern times; it's even sometimes awarded prematurely, perhaps as a nod to the founder's obituary).
Now, I'm not saying that Iron Man is a complete rip-off of Alfred Nobel's life (with the addition of a nifty super suit; Nobel wore nifty normal suits), but one must admit the two stories bear a strong resemblance to one another (even more so than Nobel and Stark themselves). After all, it is not unusual for a company to borrow inspiration for a plot or product! It makes one wonder...
I can't help but also wonder (worst segue ever?) if Nobel was in some way a muse for the brand behind today's candy: Nobel Super Lemon Candy!
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| How I wish The Nobel's Times was a real newspaper, even if every issue was about Super Lemon Candy! |
It should come as no surprise that I was instantly drawn to the packaging. The comic-style artwork (reminiscent of an Iron Man comic, maybe?) and "The Nobel's Time" newspaper motif (in reference to the driving force behind Nobel's philanthropic cause, maybe?) are hard to ignore. But it was the man crying "Oh! Nobel!" (as opposed to the "Oh! Juicy!" woman) that really clinched the deal; I was unfamiliar with the interjection (though I'm sure it'll gain popularity in time), and the whole thing just left me both intrigued and oddly disturbed. I needed to know more! Sadly, the Nobel web site has little to offer an American with no Japanese skills other than links to more sites with more images sure to provide endless nightmares, and the "newspaper" articles on the package are nothing more than a random mix of carefully selected English and Japanese words and phrases.
I was left baffled, unsure what connection (if any) the candy and/or company had to the late inventor of dynamite (explosive lemon flavor?). The back of the bag, while not answering that question, provided a generous amount of information, including a comic with another "Oh! Juicy!" and a diagram of the Super Lemon Candy, which apparently varies in mildness as the center is approached. I've noticed it is quite common in foreign (meaning not American in this case) markets to furnish candy blueprints in a similar manner, a feature sorely lacking in American fare. We could learn a lot from our neighbors when it comes to such things.
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| Or maybe this is The Noble Time's edition number... |
The "best before" date is clear as day, but an explanation is still given in the Americanized sticker, because everyone knows us folks in the Untied States cannot differentiate between a month and a year (hint: months do not go into the 2000s). It is one of those vague dates with no particular day in mind, so anytime in April ought to be fine. Fortunately, I began my bag near the end of the specified month. However, I have not finished it yet; thus, I should be able to experience any deterioration of the product when the magical date passes by.
But this blog is not about the future (yet). A look at the nutrition facts and ingredients list should bring things back to the present (or past, as the case may be):
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| Good news: Super Lemon Candy probably won't cause you to soil your pants! |
Nutritionally, a piece of Super Lemon Candy will set you back 15 Calories of nothing but sugars and carbohydrates, so if one is on a strict low-carb, low-sugar diet, Super Lemon Candy may not be the best option. But such a person would surely not be reading this blog, anyhow, so my invaluable advice is going to waste.
Oh, and if you didn't notice, the serving size is one piece. That's right, you are not expected (nor, for that matter, intended) to have any more than one at a time. I hope it is due to the length of time a piece can be enjoyed, rather than some other, more ominous reason.
The ingredients list is not too terribly long, and includes a mix of expected (citric acid, for one) and unfamiliar items. For instance, I did not know what pullulan was, but Wikipedia informed me that it is "a polysaccharide polymer consisting of maltotriose units." Thanks, Internet! I would be lost without you. Wikipedia was also helpful in identifying erythritol as a sugar alcohol that "does not normally cause laxative effects, as are often experienced after consumption of other sugar alcohols." Thank you, Nobel, for taking the world's undergarments into consideration while chemically engineering your lemon candy (though, if it did have a laxative effect, it would bring a whole new meaning to the comic characters' facial expressions and numerous "Oh! Juicy!" outbursts)!
Having read all that The Nobel's Times had to offer, it was the Sweets Fiend's time to open up the package and see for myself what all the buzz was about!
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| SIX WHOLE SERVINGS! I'm getting full just looking at them. |
The candies are individually wrapped (a nice feature, though the environment might disagree) with a simple, yet effective bright yellow design. This should help preserve freshness and potentially allow stores to sell Super Lemon Candy one piece at a time (with the added bonus of no "best before" date). The packaging materials (large bag included) are all of a sturdy quality that evokes a sense of confidence.
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| An "Oh! Juicy!" is imminent! |
Outside their wrappers, the candies have an appearance not unlike that of a typical lemon drop, though Super Lemon Candy is (despite the package artwork) a totally spherical, planet-like shape; it could aid one in pretending to be Ominpotus, devouring worlds one at a time (per serving size suggestion). They could also be used as some sort of ammunition, I would think (making Nobel a candy armaments manufacturer).
To sum it up, the candy is round and neither especially dull nor exciting.
As I am rather fond of lemon drops, not to mention Lemonheads, I suspected Nobel's offering would be met with success as well. But I should have paid more attention to the on-package comics and less to my preconceived notions of what lemon candy is, because Super Lemon Candy has more in common with Warheads than with my aforementioned favorites; the outermost layer is indeed a force to be reckoned with!
Now, I do not have anything against Warheads sour candies, per se. People often give them to me as gifts to themselves, because watching me deal with one is allegedly a hilarious affair (I might as well work in a sideshow). But, the thing is, Warheads reward one's suffering with a pleasantly flavored core. Super Lemon Candy, in its "Merchant of Death" cruelty, offers no such prize (I'd call it the "Nobel Piece Prize") to those who endure its sadistic ritual of "sourness" (which, to be fair, is pretty brief and not nearly as bad as a Warhead's). I could not differentiate between the two innermost layers, but I did not find either of them particularly tasty; there was some semi-decent realistic lemon flavor there, yes, but it was lacking in some way I cannot put my finger on. It was just not worth the ordeal it took to get there.
I therefore rate Nobel Super Lemon Candy an unsatisfying 1. It has little to offer over alternative lemon sweets apart from its beguiling packaging, and I wouldn't consider anything about it worthy of the "Super" moniker. I mean, I wouldn't be violently opposed to having another, but it would not be by my choice, I can tell you that.
Or, to put it another way: Oh! Nobel!
Hoping a laxative effect does not suddenly (and abnormally) kick in,
The Sweets Fiend
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| This is what passes for front page news in the Nobel universe. |
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