After all, how much can a country change in twenty (or so) years?
To be honest, though, I basically remember two things he told me:
- Inflation in Turkey was (and is) out of control (as high as 70% at its worst). This is why, upon his return, my brother generously presented me with 250,000 Turkish lira, which seemed like a small fortune to me (emphasis on the "small", as it equated to just over 3 USD). Today, my 250,000 Turkish lira note is worth... well, nothing, really, because starting in 2005, Turkey redenominated their currency so that what was formerly 1,000,000 Turkish lira became a single Turkish lira (which, at the time of this writing, is worth seventeen cents). I guess my "fortune" could make for an interesting bookmark or something.
- Turkish drivers are insane, and if you're a pedestrian you're as good as dead. I also have a distinct memory of researching the statistics and finding that they supported his assessment. Curiously, current research leads to no such conclusion, and I cannot even find evidence to support his claim that pedestrians have no rights in Turkish traffic. So maybe I just imagined this bit, but it seems like an odd false memory for younger me to have wasted time and brainpower on, so I'm going to propose the possibility that it was all a Turkish conspiracy started over two decades ago with the intent of making me look foolish (I'm not sure whether the lack of Turkish interest in my blog strengthens or weakens my case here).
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| In case you hadn't noticed, "ogopogo" is a palindrome. |
Anyhow, Ozmo is just one of the many brands from which Şölen ("Turkey’s leading exporter of chocolate") is obtaining power in order to take "firm steps towards the future," and if those words don't cause you to suspect a Turkish conspiracy, I don't know what will (except maybe this: 2020 marks Ozmo's 20th anniversary - there's that "twenty" number again, thrice; numerologists across the world are surely jumping on the conspiracy bandwagon at this point).
Wild stuff.
Conspiracy theories aside, the packaging is executed pretty well, provided one does not pay too much attention to the (panda?) bear, whose totally unbearlike (is that a word?) face (frankly, the dark "panda" eye patches look more like bug eyes here) and strangely prominent belly button make me more uncomfortable than I'd like to admit publicly (lest that be part of the whole "making me look foolish" scheme), or the red (could the designer be colorblind, or is the grass just blood-soaked?) grass. The colors are bright and appealing, and the font choices reinforce the overall atmosphere of "fun" (assuming one finds bug-eyed mutant bears frolicking about bloody landscapes fun). The front also clearly states the contents of the package (three individual packs, for instance). That's always a plus.
In other words, we're off to a reasonably positive (or disturbing, depending on your point of view) start.
The "best before" section was not as promising:
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| Ozmo likes to think outside the box... |
What is distressing is not that the date is two weeks ago (I had started this review three weeks ago, so it was fine; I've just been moving at a snail's pace lately). No, what bothers me is the lackadaisical attitude with which the date has been stamped. The target box seems large enough to accommodate a decent margin of error, but the implementation is not even close.
Perhaps Ozmo employs bug-eyed mutant bears to do their stamping. Or perhaps they are just lax in their standards (which would contradict Şölen's manifesto). I will leave it up to you, dear reader(s), which is a more frightening prospect.
Maybe a look at the nutrition panel will ease my mind:
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| Add a pinch of sodium, and you've got five-sevenths of a Twinkie! |
First of all, kudos to Ozmo for the sensible decision of one cake for the serving size, rather than, say, one-third of a cake as others have been known to do. Second of all, the stats look very much in line with what one should expect from a cream-filled snack cake. In fact, when you take the size difference (30g vs. 43g) into account, Ozmo Ogopogo's nutritional data is extremely similar to Twinkies.
Hopefully this bodes well for the bear cakes; while I don't eat Twinkies all that often (at least not enough to make a defense of it), I do thoroughly enjoy them, so any similarity is welcome in my book.
Thus, with renewed optimism, a look at the ingredients list was in order:
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| It took only three ingredients to go wrong. |
While sharing some important ingredients with a Twinkie, Ogopogo deviates quite a bit throughout the list. A few of the differences are likely simply due to different countries using equivalent (but different) ingredients, probably (if I had to guess) based on the present public opinion of said ingredients. But there are other reasons, as well. For one, Ogopogo has a much longer shelf life than Twinkies (which do not stay fresh for nearly as long as urban legends suggest), which could very well serve some unknown (to me) consumer need (e.g., in a zombie apocalypse situation, you should eat your Twinkies first and save your Ogopogo for later). For another, unlike Twinkies, Ogopogo is halal certified, so Muslims can eat them to their hearts' (or stomachs') content.
The presence of hazelnut flavoring came as a bit of a surprise to me, as it was not indicated elsewhere on the package; in my experience, hazelnut flavoring tends to get a lot of attention on candy packages. Also of note is the third entry, in which the word "vegetable" is misspelled. This reaffirms suspicions of quality control issues (bug-eyed mutant bears are notoriously poor spellers) and once again dampens my enthusiasm for the cakes.
Nevertheless, it's possible Ozmo put the bulk of their resources into the manufacturing of the product itself and therefore lacked the appropriate funding for such trifles as proper spelling and accurate date stamping.
I guess we shall see when we rip into the package!
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| We meet again, bug-eyed mutant bear! |
As promised, the cakes are individually wrapped. Furthermore, the wrapper includes all of the nutritional/ingredient information, which is an uncommon but very nice feature, as it makes the treats ready for individual sale or sharing. Ozmo won back some points with this move, though I do have to admit that the bear and miscolored grass seem somehow more unsettling without the additional space to serve as a distraction.
Ozmo was really toying with me, what with its "good news, bad news" approach to packaging.
But I had no time for mind games; I had a review to finish, and that meant I needed to take out a cake (or two, rather, to check for manufacturing consistency). And so I did:
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| Please rescue a poor, mistreated bear cake today! |
Greeting me were two of the saddest specimens I have ever come across (and I have come across some pretty sad specimens); my discomfort upon seeing them was not due to a lack of ursine countenances (or even the belly buttons, which weren't so bad in cake form) but their heartbreaking, hopeless expressions. These bears had seen some unforgettable horrors in their short lifetime, and they were not handling it well. One's nose was so dislocated that I could not determine whether it was a birth (i.e., manufacturing) defect or a part of the aforementioned unforgettable horrors.
After taking a moment to quietly weep for their suffering (like a fool; well played, Turkey!), I took a step back (figuratively speaking) and examined the cakes more objectively. While there were definite quality control issues, I had to concede the fact that they truly did resemble the bear on the packaging, in the same way that parents resemble the portraits their four-year-old children draw; the effort was there, but the execution was lacking. Nice try, anyway, Ozmo!
The backs of the bears were less interesting (though no less depressing), being plain aside from the telltale chocolate cream injection sites.
I opened the third package and discovered what could arguably be described as the best-looking of the bunch, though its nose, too, had wandered far from home (and seemed to be bleeding, to boot):
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| I named this little guy "Handsome George." |
On the one hand, it is obvious that the Ogopogo manufacturing equipment cannot consistently reproduce the desired design, and that's a crying (again, well played, Turkey!) shame. On the other hand, it gives each snack bear its own unique set of struggles and tale of woe. What tragic story awaits you inside your package of Ogopogo? No one knows. And perhaps, in its own way, this makes each miniature bear more beautiful.
Or maybe Ozmo was just overly ambitious and dreadfully unaware of their limits.
Regardless, the bears smelled pretty good, and they felt like snack cakes should, so I gave one a try...
Much to my delight, it was rather tasty! The cake, compared to that of a Twinkie, is denser and a tad drier (which my wife suggested pairs very well with coffee) and flavorful, with the light and dark portions of cake having their own tastes. The chocolate/hazelnut cream filling is everything one would hope and expect from such a treat. Ozmo has seriously put out a quality product here!
I truly enjoyed consuming my Ogopogo bears (and putting them out of their misery was the icing on the cake, so to speak) and would highly recommend them to anyone in the mood for a chocolate cream snack cake with hazelnut flavoring.
There is only one problem: I'm not that into hazelnut. As much as I'm a fan of the bears in spirit (though I wouldn't go so far as to say a bug-eyed mutant bear was my spirit animal), I cannot see my taste buds requiring hazelnut flavoring anytime soon, and so I must sadly rate Ozmo Ogopogo a 2. You might feel differently if you were to try one, and if you're into hazelnut and chocolate, I'd suggest you do just that.
Then feel free to let me know just how wrong you think I am. Conspiracy or not, I don't mind; looking like a fool has never tasted so sweet.
Taking firm steps towards the future,
The Sweets Fiend
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| Are Ogopogo bears filled with sadness? No, chocolate and hazelnut filling (and probably at least a little sadness)! |
