For instance, when I dream, I am a Dr. Who of sorts (I was originally going to link to information about Dr. Who here but decided that if you are not at all familiar with the character after 50+ years and 800+ episodes, you're on your own), traveling through space and time as if the laws of the universe did not apply to me (my subconscious self is such a rebel).
One instant I will be in an off-brand version of my childhood home with a combination of my brothers and/or sisters and any other random people who feel inclined to disturb my slumber, and the next I'll be driving on a road which is, for no apparent reason, several hundred feet in the air (and, as usual, my brakes don't work). And at the time it does not in the least strike me as bizarre that there was no explanation for how I got from point A to point B (which probably explains my writing).
It would be like my father-in-law and I watching a Charles Bronson film (don't judge me) which was missing thirty minutes of footage (cut so that two Charles Bronson movies would fit onto one budget DVD) and not being even slightly perplexed as to why there was suddenly a car chase scene involving antagonists we had never seen before (for the record, we were more than slightly perplexed and figured both of us had fallen asleep and then woken up synchronously).
But poorly edited (or, for that matter, poorly written) movies aside, I had always assumed that the sudden transportation phenomenon was exclusive to the realm of dreams.
Then I went to Ikea.
It being my first time and all (which you would know, if you paid attention), I was unprepared for the fact that walking through an Ikea store is an experience very much like my dreams: you find yourself trapped in a seemingly endless series of different (yet strangely connected) rooms and locations which seem real enough, but also seem to be just convincing facsimiles of reality (because that's what they are), and as you walk from one to the next, there is a sense of being transported into a different house altogether. Only it's not a house, of course. And there are people everywhere you've never met who don't live there (unless they've given up on ever finding the exit), yet they seem familiar, because perhaps you've encountered them in another room. Or in your dreams. And everything is for sale (okay, that bit's less like my dreams; also the brakes did not go out on the car).
It's all very surreal.
So you follow the arrows, because you've lost all sense of direction but trust there must be an end somewhere, and when you've all but given up hope and your belly is empty, you finally arrive at the cafeteria, which offers a selection of food items (which are admittedly quite good) to purchase, including Swedish meatballs (because, honestly, what dream ends without Swedish meatballs making an appearance?).
Anyhow, as much as I enjoyed the entire journey, my favorite part was probably the very end (and not just because it confirmed that there was indeed a "very end"), where I discovered a number of shelves containing international snacks and candies.
Naturally, I decided to reward myself for making it through the store without a single mental breakdown (thought I suppose what constitutes a mental breakdown is debatable) by shelling out some cash for today's test subject: Fazer's Dumle (original)!
I totally earned this. |
My relationship (just friends) with Fazer goes way back to my sixth review, which featured the Kina Wafer (and in case you were wondering, I still cannot remember what the Finnish flag looks like). That was a solid product, so I had high hopes for Dumle.
The packaging is simple, but well done; after all, I ended up choosing it over a wide variety of competitors. I think part of what drew me to it was the combination of the color scheme and promise of toffee, which brought the delectable Daim to mind (though, to be fair, the use of the colors and overall style is not at all like Daim's when compared side by side). I do not understand the importance of the shooting stars, but maybe that has something to do with the Finnish flag (which, again, I cannot for the life of me remember; sorry, Finland!). Regardless, it all looks like good fun, and the graphic of the candy makes my mouth water with anticipation.
Now, according to Wikipedia, Dumle was originally a Swedish creation with hard toffee until Fazer took over, made the toffee softer, and rebranded it "Dumle original," which one has to admit is a rather ironic name, especially if Wikipedia is correct (and why wouldn't it be?) in suggesting the name "Dumle" was inspired by (i.e., stolen from) one of Sweden's earliest children's programs: Humle och Dumle, which, as far as I can tell, is about a Swedish serial killer/amateur mad scientist who somehow decapitates his victims without killing them and locks their heads in a cupboard, where they lament their mutual misfortune and discuss and sing about the possible future horrors they will be subjected to; keep in mind this was one of their first children's programs, meaning this was not the result of running out of ideas in a crowded market but rather one of the initial concepts dreamed up by the twisted minds in the Swedish broadcasting world (unrelated note to self: remove "visit Sweden" from bucket list).
But, really, Fazer has nothing to do with the nightmares I will certainly be having for the foreseeable future (and may in fact even be trying to distance themselves from the candy's disturbing link) so I will not hold it against them (their commercials, however, are another story).
Bottom line: I like the packaging.
The "best by" date and production dates are clearly printed on the back of the bag:
Do you possess the skills to decipher which is the production date and which is the "best by" date? |
In other words, Dumle "original" (I felt the quotes were necessary) has a shelf life of one full year, which I would sadly wager is significantly longer than the shelf life of the true original Dumle (or Humle, for that matter).
But you have probably had it up to here ("here" referring to the bloody stumps upon which Humle and Dumle's heads once sat) with talk of severed heads (unless you happen to be Swedish), so let's quickly move on to the nutritional information, which will hopefully be less frightening.
Or at least we can hope...
No severed heads here! Whew! |
Thankfully, the "Nutrition Facts" panel is fairly dull. Sure, there is plenty of sugar (and saturated fat), but what do you expect from chocolate-covered toffee (plus, it bodes well for the taste)? Besides, the Calorie count is actually a bit less than most candy bars I've come across when compared per gram, and portion control should be easier when one needs to unwrap each (approximately) 7.5g morsel of Dumle.
Then again, I have been known to lose track of how many small pieces of candy I've been eating, waking from my sugar-induced hypnagogia in a pile of wrappers and shame (I have a theory that candy wrappers multiply when nobody's looking; TCR-FRESHY 5000 and TTR-CRAB 900 have been diligently working together on testing it but have not yet produced any supporting evidence).
I get the feeling four pieces is going to be either three too many or nowhere near enough.
A perusal of the ingredients list should shed more light on the situation:
This is almost disappointingly tame. |
Again, there is nothing of note (though the word "milk" appears more frequently than I'd have imagined), with most of the ingredients being readily recognized (or at least pronounceable) by even the most chemistry-challenged consumer. The only exception may be soy lecithin, which, depending on who you ask, can either be taken as a supplement as it's beneficial to your brain and liver or should be avoided at all costs as it's detrimental to your brain and can cause cancer. Aren't ingredients fun?
My take on the debate: "lecithin" contains the word "thin," and that's good enough for me.
Also, glucose syrup is the primary ingredient, so these things are sure to be delicious!
But are they? It was time to tear into my bag of Dumle:
Not a Humle in sight. |
Upon opening the package, I was greeted with a pleasant but hard to identify aroma (probably something like chocolate-covered toffees) and about thirty-six individually-wrapped candies (I didn't bother to count, I am just trusting in Fazer's "servings per bag" estimation). The stars that had seemed slightly confusing on the big package added a hint of sparkle and excitement on the smaller wrappers, and I felt a sense of pure satisfaction with my acquisition even before eating a single piece.
And then I did eat a single piece.
My first impression was that it was indeed tasty, but I had had better. Something was just holding it back ever-so-slightly. And then I was done with it, and I realized I had been wrong: it was fantastic! As if I were in some wonderful candy-themed dream, the Dumle had somehow jumped from quite good to marvelous without any clue as to how it got from point A to point B (sort of like how a candy maker made the jump from singing severed heads to chocolate-covered toffees). I needed to try another.
And so I did. More than once.
Each time, I marveled at the way the flavor developed until the piece was gone and I was left craving more. Lest you think it's simply some quirk of my taste buds, my wife concurred with my assessment: the aftertaste is somehow even better than the already delicious... "during taste" (what else do I call the pre-aftertaste?).
I couldn't tell you how many servings I had that first day (nor would I want to even if I could), but I can guarantee it was more than one, and I therefore cannot rate Fazer Dumle original anything other than an outstanding 4! Dumle's flavor gymnastics are delightfully unique, and I would gladly advise anyone who enjoys chewy chocolate-covered treats to head to the nearest Ikea and buy a bag for yourself (and for me, too, if you're feeling generous).
While you're there, feel free to also pick up some furniture to build, such as a bedroom set or dining room table.
Or maybe a cupboard. You know, for your collection of severed heads.
Living the dream,
The Sweets Fiend
Nothing but YES!!! |