#57 - Walker's Nonsuch English Creamy Toffees

Writing a proper candy review requires a considerable amount of of research, and when it comes to resources for said research, the Internet is (unlike any professional sports team based in Cleveland) hard to beat. The Internet (as you are surely aware) is a series of tubes created by Al Gore on January 1, 1983, and it is just bursting at the streams (a little pun for you) with information, some of which is actually correct!

For instance, you might already know that the common key component in caramel, butterscotch, and toffee is burnt sugar, but if you were to do an Internet search to learn what differentiates one from the other, the first page of results alone would be enough to enlighten you with facts such as:

• Caramel is cooked at a lower heat than toffee
• Caramel is cooked at a higher heat than toffee
  
• Caramel is made with white sugar, while butterscotch and toffee are made with brown sugar
• American toffee is made with white sugar, while English toffee is made with brown sugar
• The only difference between butterscotch and toffee is that butterscotch is cooked to a soft-crack sugar stage, whereas toffee is cooked to a hard-crack stage
• Toffee is cooked to a soft-crack stage, but can also be cooked to a hard-crack stage

So I guess that settles that!

During your investigation, you might also learn that the word "toffee" is an alteration of the word "taffy," yet another burnt-sugar delicacy (just to add more confusion to the mix). And while we're on the subject of word origins, your research could very well lead you to the old British term "toffee-nosed," which means "pretentious or snobbish" and is in reference to the brownish nasal discharge of high-society snuff-takers (and what could more appealing to read about in a candy blog than brownish nasal discharges?).

Except that it's not (unless maybe it is, but probably isn't; origin stories are never as consistent as one would like). Because most sources prefer the explanation that "toffee-nosed" has nothing to do with the sugary treat, but is instead an alternate spelling of "toffy-nosed," derived from "toff," which is a derogatory word for members (or wannabes) of the upper class and is itself derived from the word "tuft" (referring to the golden tassels worn by titled undergraduates at the University of Oxford or the University of Cambridge).

To sum it up, the British are really bad at keeping their words straight.

Thankfully, all of the sources I discovered agreed on at least one thing: toffee is hard and brittle.

And that provides the perfect segue to today's subject: Walker's Nonsuch English Creamy Toffees.

Everything you know is wrong.

 
When Americans hear the name "Walker's" in relation to British goods, their mind undoubtedly thinks of shortbread. See, way back in 1898, a man named Joseph Walker took out a £50 loan to open a shop wherein he could sell baked goods and confections; he was particularly proud of his shortbread recipe, which he considered to be the world's finest. And from those humble beginnings, Walker's Shortbread has today become Scotland's largest food exporter, shipping all over the world.

It's a nice, heartwarming story, isn't it? Unfortunately, it has even less to do with today's candy than brownish nasal discharges.

The real story is completely different (I can't emphasize enough just how different it is; I also can't help feeling I've been through this before)!

Way back in 1894, a man named Edward Joseph Walker (see, he has "Edward" before "Joseph") opened a shop wherein he could sell confections; he was particularly proud of his toffee (see, toffee, not shortbread) recipe. And from those humble beginnings, Walker's Nonsuch is today shipping its toffee all over the world (and just for the record, "nonsuch" means "unmatched; without equal").

So, basically, the 1890s were a good time for men named Walker to open sweets shops (it also helped if there was a "Joseph" somewhere in there).

The package design is very well done, seamlessly blending modern style and nostalgia. It takes me back to my early days as a young sweets fiend, when I would daydream of waking up early to join the local dog in chasing delivery trucks leaving the candy factory, a kite on a short string firmly grasped in my hand and a flock of large birds ominously circling above me.

It's nearly enough to bring a tear to my eye (and a brownish discharge to my nose)!

We're off to a good start!

If you're looking for a healthy snack, you've come to the wrong place. Welcome!

The "best before" date is on the back, with an Americanized nutrition facts panel sticker applied just below (covering... who knows what?). If one were to assume the date was in the American format, I would've had my first piece with a few days to spare. Of course, one would be wrong in assuming that (so why would one do that?), as this is an English candy, so I missed the date by a mile (time is not traditionally measured by miles, but "a mile" makes me feel marginally better than "six months"). This is partially (i.e. mostly) due to me being the "one" who assumed incorrectly (I really need to review more regularly to avoid such rookie mistakes).

But I decided to carry on with the review and stop only if I believed my error would prevent the possibility of a fair assessment.

The nutrition panel contained no surprises (it was slightly faded due to its age; the original data, which is thankfully available elsewhere on the package, held up much better). I mean, we're talking about a sweet consisting mainly of sugar and butter, so what would one expect aside from sugar and fat?

The only point of interest is that comparing the American and English panels is a futile endeavor. No matter how I worked the math, I could not get the nutritional information to match between the two. Whether that is due to approximations throwing things off or due to one or both parties involved using the Internet to guide their measurements, I cannot say (an Internet search provided a third set of numbers which did not match either one). But it does suggest one should take the data provided on nutrition facts panels with a grain of salt (I mean that figuratively here, though toffee recipes do often call for salt).

A list so short, they decided to repeat it. A lot.

The ingredients are listed in no less (and, for that matter, no more) than eight languages (and salt is indeed included). Aside from glyceryl monostearate (commonly called GMS, not to be confused with MSG), it's all pretty straightforward. Again, what do you expect? It's toffee (and a 19th century recipe, to boot).

I'm not going to lie: I am a big fan of toffee, and thus far Walker's Nonsuch English Creamy Toffees had been batting a thousand (truly living up to the "Nonsuch" designation). If these little candies weren't every bit as wonderful in reality as they were in my truck-chasing, kite-wielding childhood dreams, I was going to be very disappointed.

Either way, I had a job to do, so I cautiously opened the bag and poured a few pieces out...

About 40g of toffee if you're English, or about 50g if you're American.

Outside of the package (with no nostalgic scene to distract the eye), the individually-wrapped toffees appeared just a hair less enticing. It's not that there was any fault at all with the design, but I couldn't help being reminded of the sort of treat an elderly woman would let sit in her purse for years (possibly even from Edward Joseph Walker's first batch in 1894) until the opportunity arose to offer one to an unsuspecting child.

Then I remembered the "best before" date, and it hit me: I am that elderly woman, my candy stash is that purse, and I am that unsuspecting child (yes, I play multiple parts in this scenario). So, who am I to judge? It's not as if I'm Lord Justice Mummery or something (if you don't get that reference, you might care to read my Nestlé Polo review).

Thus, I unwrapped a piece of toffee and put it in my mouth.

Mr. Walker, you were obviously some sort of wizard!

I absolutely loved everything about it. It was like an easier-on-the teeth caramel (which makes sense) in the best possible way (I've been known to eat more caramels than I should, believe it or not). I suppose the texture and consistency might not have fully demonstrated the intended creaminess due to the age of the product (and some looked a tad... different), but I didn't care. It tasted of sweet, sweet sugar and luscious fat, and my taste buds danced in ecstasy.

Therefore, I gladly rate Walker's Nonsuch English Creamy Toffees a well-deserved 4. Not only would I buy them again some day, I am eagerly awaiting that day!

So, to the fine folks at Walker's Nonsuch Toffee, I applaud you and thank you for continuing your great grandfather's legacy. He would no doubt be as proud of you as of his toffee.

And that is truly saying something!

Consisting mostly of sugar and fat,
The Sweets Fiend

Math that does add up: sugar + butter + heat = YUM!

#56 - Messori Cono Snack (Choco Parties)

Are you ready to party? In case you didn't know (and if you didn't, you have my deepest sympathy), a party is a social gathering, typically featuring food and/or planned activities. The word "party" is derived from the Latin word "partire," which is defined as "share, divide up, or distribute," which I'd wager implies that the fun of a party is meant to be shared by all ("partir" means "to leave" in French, indicating that they are not ready to party; except when used in the phrase "partir un affaire," meaning "start a business," because French, like all languages, makes no sense).

Parties (as far as we know) date back to before mankind began documenting events (maybe early parties weren't good enough to be worth remembering, or maybe they were so wildly memorable that documentation was deemed unnecessary), because, as a general rule, people like being around other people (or, at the very least, around a small number of select people). As the saying goes, "the more the merrier" (actually, the original expression was "the more the merrier; the fewer, the better fare," which is a less snappy but more optimistic sentiment overall).

The popularity of parties is evident in the sheer number of types of parties: there are birthday parties, dance parties, and Christmas parties; office parties, Halloween parties, and costume parties (which are often themselves Halloween parties); slumber parties, house parties, and pool parties.

The list goes on and on (and on and on and on). There are even choco parties, where chocolate treats masquerade as ice cream cones.

Don't believe me? Well, then, let me introduce you to today's sweet: Messori Cono Snack Choco Parties!

Party of one...

Messori is a family-owned Italian chocolate/confectionery company that was founded in 1929, so they've got nearly a century of candy making under their belt (an expression which acquired its modern meaning around the same time). A brief perusal of their website and online catalog suggests they view themselves as more of a luxury brand (perhaps I will need to put on some fancier pants), with the Cono Snack being one of their more fanciful offerings (or perhaps I won't). I appreciate the fact that their website not only lists Messori's key players, but also provides pictures of said key players. It is always an unexpected and pleasant surprise to behold the faces behind the products. That being said, I find it particularly ironic that (at the time of this writing, anyway) the picture poorest in quality (and it's not even close) belongs to the head of quality control, Luca Montorsi (who nevertheless seems quite the amiable fellow).

Let's hope that's not a bad sign. Anyhow, let's get on to the packaging...

According to Messori's Cono Snack page, "the biggest innovation is that this product looks like an icecream but it is not!" And I have to say that, biggest innovation or not, the packaging does indeed appear to contain a miniature Drumstick ice cream.

So my first impression is basically positive, though I would not exactly say I was dazzled. While the design is certainly competent, fun, and effective, the font choices and artwork styles do not feel altogether harmonious (which I guess is much like a real party, or at least what I imagine a real party would be like if I were to be invited to one). Additionally, the wrapper is starting to unravel (might possibly be my fault), and a small bit of chocolate seems to have spilled out (or drooled?) onto the top of the package.

In other words, my "Cono Snack Choco Party" more resembles a "Cono Snack Choco After the Party" (perhaps I won't need to put on any pants at all).

Every party must eventually come to an end. Unless it's a West Coast party. Obviously.

The "best before" date is conveniently located on the top of the cone, and it looks like I missed it by more than a couple of months, doesn't it? But, as usual, putting up this review was a long time coming, and I did actually make the "best before" date with a couple of days to spare.

Still, my consumption of the treat occurred near the end of the "party," so to speak, and I will keep that in mind during my assessment.

Really, you'd think I'd be able to eat my sweets in a timely manner, wouldn't you? But, alas, I forget about them more often than I'd care to admit, as they're hidden in storage.

You know what they say: "Out of sight, out of mind."

Speaking of things being out of sight, the ingredients list gets a bit lost as the packaging wraps around the cone:

No party is complete without at least one illegal substance.

Now, as Messori desires to be viewed as a quality confections company, they like to throw around buzzwords and proudly proclaim that they do not use GMOs or artificial colors or preservatives (or whatever is currently undesirable), which is why a chocolate ice cream cone imitation contains red cabbage, black currant, and the like. So things are looking good for those who are intimidated (or frightened) by scientific-sounding ingredients (I don't mean to single out Messori here; "appealing to nature" is a popular and potent trend in marketing these days, despite having no basis in reality).

But Messori's irony does not end with the picture of Luca Montorsi (who, again, seems like a fine individual), because hiding in the list is titanium dioxide (how's that for a scientific-sounding ingredient?), which has recently (as in since my Cono Snack was produced) been banned in Europe (but not the UK).

Basically, I'm putting my life on the line for you, dear reader(s). And things may become even more dangerous for me once we get to the nutrition facts panel.

So let's get straight to that, shall we?

Confession: I took this photo AFTER I unwrapped the cone, for your convenience.

It is always refreshing to see a serving size listed as one package. And, honestly, things don't look so bad. It's higher in fat (and calories) than your average candy bar, but it's also lower in sodium. Also, I have just the one, so I've no chance of gorging myself on fake ice cream cones even if I want to (and based on the fat content, I'm thinking I might want to).

But make no mistake, even without artificial colors or flavorings, Cono Snack Choco Parties are by no means a healthy food (though how a "healthy" food is defined changes from time to time; in fact, the FDA just changed their definition last week, so, with a little luck, Cono Snack Choco Parties just might make the list eventually).

With all the packaging work taken care of, it was time to get the party started and open up my Cono Snack!

The fewer, the better fare?

As the outside clues had suggested, my "ice cream cone" had had a rough go at this partying business. It's as if it suffered an earthquake in the M6-M7 range (fun earthquake fact: the media generally still reports earthquake magnitude values in reference to the Richter scale, even though it was replaced by the moment magnitude scale about 50 years ago, because science and keeping up to date are hard).

Cracks are visible from the tip of the cone to the village of "candies" resting on top. It is a tragic scene to witness for any candy lover, and outright heartbreaking for a sweets fiend. What makes it even worse is that I could not help but feel that it was at least partly my fault for not eating it sooner (though, again, I did technically beat the recommended date).

Furthermore, the cone's consistency was softer than I knew it should have been, which is probably what led to the disaster at (or in?) hand.

Tragedy, indeed.

I felt it was my duty to put it out of its misery in a respectable (or at least quick) fashion.

See those white candies? They're coated in scrumptious titanium dioxide!

I had my doubts, for sure, but I took a preliminary nibble from the top.

I was not disappointed (one might even say I was slightly dazzled)!

The chocolate top, fractured candies and all, was outright delicious, far exceeding my greatest hopes. My thoughts during the eating process consisted mostly of variations on "Wow, this is a lot better than I was expecting!"

As I approached the cone portion, my taste buds were brought back to reality.

Not that it was bad, by any means; despite the softened consistency, the cone was quite tasty. But, much like the fonts on the wrapper, the dark chocolate inner lining and caramel filling did not play together as well as I'd have liked. Granted, I prefer milk chocolate to dark chocolate, but I think the real problem was that, due to the premature aging of the product, the caramel (which might have been less smooth than intended) had become one with the dark chocolate, each component losing its individual voice.

Due to the condition of my Cono Snack, it might not be entirely fair for me to give a rating, but given my extensive background in candy reviews, and given that my ratings are completely meaningless anyway, I am rating Cono Snack Choco Parties a solid 3. To be honest, my initial leaning was towards a 2 (I could not rule out the possibility that my enjoyment of the top was due to low expectations), but I do in fact think I would buy one for myself on occasion; it truly gave an authentic chocolatey ice cream cone experience, minus the ice cream . In fact, if I do come across one in the future, I will most certainly buy at least one for comparison (maybe two or three, just to check up on Luca Montorsi's work).

If you come across one in the future, I'd recommend you try it out, too. It's good, clean fun (well, the caramel could get pretty messy, I guess).

And how many parties can you say that about, really?

Sharing, dividing up, and distributing a love of candy,
The Sweets Fiend

P.S. I can't believe I made it all the way to the end without making a "party pooper" joke. I'm so proud of myself!

Nope, no ice cream here. If that's not the biggest innovation, I don't know what is.