Fourteen Japanese Caramels

Food dreams are the absolute worst. Not dreams with food in them- I have no intentions of rambling on and on about the last dream I had, only to accidentally reveal a sordid repressed history of a life of teenaged crime off an ABC After School Special. I’m talking about the rare dream about food, some sort of product that infiltrates your subconscious that dream-you wholly believes to be authentic. I woke up this morning hell-bent on reaching into my real live purse and taking out a box of real live Japanese Inside-Out Chocolate Brownie Kit-Kats that my dream boyfriend gave me, only to discover that they never existed in the first place. I died a little this morning.
Luckily, Japan’s exportation coda requires all edible items shipped to the States to be completely wild and insane, so for today’s review, I’ve collected a whole bunch of bizarre caramels, some from Miss Love, others from J-List, to write about and review today. These make Brach’s look about as edgy as a broken Hummel figurine.
Sweet potato: Amazing! Tangy, slightly metallic, with a rich, creamy, starchy potato flavor. Very brown sugar and caramel-heavy, but delicious. Probably the best retention of the caramel and potato essence.
Corn:Milky and sweet, like fresh corn on the cob. Definitely candied and sugary, but distinctly vegetal. Butter: Disturbingly accurate—waxy, like margarine, with a forward salinity and sweet flavor, like sweet cream. Really rich.
Chestnut: The most dense caramel with a rich, coffee-like flavor and hint of nuttiness. Tasted more like chestnut syrup than actual chestnuts, but we weren’t complaining!
Matcha: Grainy and vivacious in texture and flavor, with an intense and concentrated flavor. Matcha buillion. Ghenghis Khan: Based off lamb curry (!!!) this was surprisingly mild, but not without a slight gaminess and faux-grilled tang. An excellent novelty.

Cantaloupe: The best, hands down. Tangy, cool, creamy, and sweet, with that quintessential pulpy melon flavor. This is what Starburst wishes it was. We demolished this box completely.
Persimmon: Prickly, sweet fruit with a slightly spicy undertone. I’ve never had a raw persimmon, but there was a distinct flavor to this that leads me to believe this wasn’t just half-assed.

Sticky rice in coconut: Definitely reminiscent of the coconut part, not sure about the sticky rice. Definitely had a glutenous chew, though!
City lights: I have no idea what this is supposed to represent. I’m going to go with either “pixels” or “14-year old girl,” and based on the sweet, berry-like flavor, it’s likely the latter. Japan, you so crazy. This tastes like boysenberries and haskap, slightly musky and sweet.
Natural yogurt: Their words, not mine. This tastes exactly like lemon cheesecake filling—tangy and fruity, with very little dairy. It’s bizarre.
Yuzu: This was the most unique as it was contained in an edible rice paper package, which offered a unique crunchy contrast to the sweet, gummy caramel inside. This was the chewiest and sweetest of the bunch.

These are delicious. And they’re even available at Japanese dollar stores. Kind of makes my local Family Dollar selection of crushed Saltines and headless dolls look even sadder.

Nestle Crunch Girl Scouts Candy Bars: Thin Mints, Coconut and Caramel, and Peanut Butter Creme

As many of you know, Nestle Crunch has partnered with the Girl Scouts of America to release a limited edition, limited release Crunch-bar version of three of their popular flavors of cookies– the Tagalongs (peanut butter cremes) Samoas (changed to the more PC caramel coconut crunch) and Thin Mints. And Foodette Reviews is proud to be one of the first reviewers to give you the full scoop.

For starters, people are going insane for these, and after eating them, I can totally see why. They precisely mimic the flavors (and hopefully not as much of the calorie bombing terror) of the cookies themselves. They are all delicious, and manage to be simultaneously nostalgic and original. Admittedly, the Crunch addition is a little superfluous- the bars are adapted from the Crunch Crisp and use the wafer and filling tactic to get the flavor. However, the original “Crunch” influence gets kind of lost within all of the flavors, manifesting a mere whisp of crisped rice on top.

We’ll start with everyone’s favorite- the peanut butter creme. This was definitely the softest of the bars, the wafers yielding to the deluge of peanut butter and chocolate. Flavor-wise, this was spot-on to a Tagalong. It’s similar to a Butterfinger creme bar, with a more satisfying saltiness and a lighter touch on the sugar. The peanut butter had a pleasant graininess that reminded me of natural peanut butter. The chocolate on the outside was a classic milk chocolate- buttery, caramely, and it held everything together. I received miniature bars, which were perfect both in portion size as well as ratio. They were delightfully thick and crispy and perfect as a snack. As far as this one went, everything was spot-on. It’s the cookie joy in candy form.

The caramel and coconut crunch bar may have been my favorite, though. It was a little less sweet, due to its dark chocolate coating, and a little denser in texture, crammed full of dried flakes of coconut. The caramel was more of an afterthought to the coconut and chocolate, but still bound everything together and infused the coconut with a much-needed sweetness. I also loved the swirl of caramel on top of this bar– each bar had something visually differentiating it from the other, a small aesthetic addition that was not lost on me.

Finally, we tried the Thin Mint, and all I could think of as I bit into it was, “Man, I bet this would be insane if I froze it.” It’s identical to a Thin Mint cookie. It had the right amount of minty coolness on the palate and a sweet, salty dark chocolate cookie middle and coating, like a Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafer. Fantastic and clever.

 I was surprised that Nestle was able to make these so well-balanced without overwhelming the palate with sugar. I mean, a Girl Scout Cookie Crunch Bar Sandwich sounds like something you’d come up with at 2AM because you don’t want to order take-out. Mint, peanut butter, and coconut are not new flavors, but these were executed and marketed in a way that really tied them to a familiar brand. Kudos for this collaboration- I’m always saying how more companies should band together, and this is a wonderful example of how amazing it is when they do.

Kraft Jet-Puffed Pina Colada and German Chocolate Mallow Bites

Every so often I’ll come across a product in a smaller grocery store or market that genuinely looks (and smells) like it hasn’t been moved since the Nixon administration. I kind of expect this to happen at these stores and proceed with caution. But the big box stores? It’s creepy to see something that looks as though they’ve unearthed it from their store archival collection in the basement. Such was the case at my local Target today.

I did not expect to see these marshmallows, clad in a bag that looked like it was straight out of 2005 with flavors that haven’t soared in popularity since their conception. And they were only a dollar apiece! Blasphemy, I tell you. Almost makes up for passing up the Current/Elliott-esque skinny jeans and gym teacher sweats in the clothing section. I’m the classiest of classy ladies. Pina Colada and German Chocolate, though. Wow. And in bite-form nonetheless. 
 

A little research yielded very few results in the way of reviews outside of my good friend JFG trying the Pina Colada mallows in September. And yet the bag honestly looked and felt like it had been printed in the mid-2000’s. I couldn’t even get the price tag off without risking damage to the package. Either someone cheaped out or got creative with recycling. And there’s a typo on the bag! I ate American-made food with a typo! I feel like I’m going to lose brain cells or suddenly gain the ability to do complex math from that or something. Yikes.

Creepy packaging aside, I came into this with a little bit of a bias- I’m just not that into marshmallows. Sure, I’ll take them if nothing else is around, but when push comes to shove they’re the edible equivalent of a sloppy, drunk hook-up with an ex or old friend over Thanksgiving break. It’s there, and that’s about it. The package designs are adorable- little fuzzy marshmallow viewing windows, drawings of marshmallows and festive beverages and slices of cake all over the place, and some helpful suggestions along the lines of informing the consumer of a whipping aid, always a plus in my book, suggestions of piling marshmallows on cake and such, I don’t know, they don’t pay me to read, and the ever-popular disclaimer that these are alcohol-free. Party hard tonight, Mr. Roboto.

The pina colada marshmallows tasted good and were adequately sunny, with a good balance between sweet and salty. There was a strange aftertaste to them, a predominantly saline one, tasting something like corn starch and baking soda, a little salty and bitter, but not off-putting given the sugary coconut and candy. Strangely chemical and even worse when they were toasted. They mainly tasted like toasted coconut with a little floral, piney fruit kick at the end of each bite. It was difficult to eat too many of them before feeling a little sick from all the sweetness, but I think they were unique and tasty enough that they’d make for a funky throwback ambrosia salad or roasted fruit s’more for a snack.

German chocolate marshmallows? Good idea. Making them look like death’s hairballs? Bad idea. Good thing these were sized to pop right in the mouth- you do not want to bite these open. Who in the world thought that puce-grey-midsize sedan was a good color for a candy?! And they taste and smell blatantly, almost offensively synthetic like a scratch and sniff sticker or some sort of trendy Japanese perfume for teens, like cardboard Tootsie Rolls. The coconut is a little less aggressive here, but no less flaky and dry on the palate. Both made delicious s’mores, but really, that color is just heinous. Still, I wouldn’t kick them out of bed, or my Rice Krispie treats.

Raspberry M&M’s

I’ve got to admit, whenever I go to the grocery store I’m on high alert for any new candies or chocolates to hit the market. I troll the websites pretty frequently and am always making sure that I’m up to date on press releases. Sometimes, things pass me by, though…and that’s where the eagle-eyed Miss Love comes in. Last night, she spotted these M&M’s in the store and said, “Hey, have you reviewed these yet?” Those magical words get me to buy anything. Bonus points if it’s something made by a bigger company, too.
Raspberry M&M’s, I knew, weren’t new, per se, but I’d never personally seen them in stores. A little research yielded very little in the ways of results outside of a 2007 release when raspberry was apparently going through a rebellious urban teen DJ phase, spelled “Razzberry.” Now they’re all grown up and going by their god-given fruit name. And outside of a mommy blogger tested demographic, there was no sign that these existed on the Mars product website or on any part of the internet. And if the internet doesn’t say they exist, they might not. So we snapped these up to review, figuring that if they were awful, we’d bake them into cookies or use them as target practice for our cats when they scratch furniture or something.
Luckily, they’re awesome. Outside of a bizarre package design, apparently the likes of which was subjected to a mandate saying that every flat surface had to be covered in the custom raspberry M&M’s logo and representation by the blue M&M, once known for being a seductive saxophone wailing ladykiller but now proudly cradling two raspberries in his hands like pool balls. Why the blue M&M, Mars? I suppose these could be construed as a late Valentine’s day treat, what with the primarily Valentine color scheme and fruit plus chocolate theme for lazy spouses who can’t be bothered to order an Edible Arrangement ahead of time but it comes off as a little bizarre to have this come-hither look on a guy literally made of chocolate putting the soft touch on what amounts to plush, severed ovaries.
At least they taste good. They’re about one and a half times the size of plain chocolate M&M’s and come in an array of pink and red gradients, with a thicker candy shell and delicate floral sweetness. They really do taste like raspberries as opposed to raspberry jam or raspberry candy. There’s nothing overpowering about it and yet it does maintain a consistent presence within each bite. The dark chocolate, typically terrible in the grand scheme of chocolate, is artfully accentuated by these notes and almost makes it taste like a decent example of a dark chocolate candy. The pieces have an overall creamy feel to them and are substantial enough that a few satisfy. I’m probably going to make some cookies with these to see if the flavor is bold enough in the context of other elements. Overall, though, these were easy to snack on and enjoy and were a quality example of a new flavor.

Chuao ChocoPod Collection

Yeah, I’m not good at giving food gifts. Have you ever found the perfect gift? So perfect that you begin to consider buying a second one for yourself or just…eating the first one? Been there, done that, bought the commemorative t-shirt. Luckily for me, this wasn’t a gift for anyone else. It was a gift for me from Chuao, so I was excited to get it and even more excited to eat it. If it weren’t for the fact that I ignored it for six months so that I wouldn’t have to destroy its colorful beauty, I’d have written about this ages ago.
The Chuao Chocopods are both ingeniously conceived and portion-controlled. They feel more substantial than bite-sized caramel truffles and come in very unique flavors. One pod is fifty calories, and I found that two satisfied me quite a lot. The box had twelve pieces and three of each flavor and the entire presentation was clean, cute, and succinct. I loved the photos of cacao pods on the outside to represent the shape and inspiration of the candies. And the flavors really intrigued me. I liked that there was a unifying factor- chocolate with a caramel filling- to each of the pods, but that each was flavored differently. It just made it a little more exciting than a box of truffles.
The first flavor we tried was Picante, a combination of chipotle and cabernet sauvignon. Because cab can be a little fruit bomb-y if it’s Californian, (and since Chuao is a California-based company I’m quite sure it was) it was pleasant to have a flavor that combined both its fruit-forward nature as well as implement a little heat and smokiness. Combined with the sticky, ooey-gooiness of the caramel, it carried a host of flavors mimicking a California cab but with a little more dessertiness to it. Very pleasant and evocative of some of my favorite characteristics of cab sauvignon.
Passion fruit followed this one. At first, I was like, “ew, this tastes like Brie cheese and old fruit.” But then I was like, “Wait a sec, this actually tastes like passionfruit.” So I guess I’m not crazy about passionfruit but appreciated the congruence between the dark chocolate in this and the fruit caramel. I’m not sure if this was accentuated by the caramel or not, but I ended up enjoying it more after a few bites. Very grape-heavy and floral.
The next caramel was a flavor combination I’ve seen before- strawberry and balsamic, but hadn’t sampled in caramel form. There was a wonderful tanginess to this and a subtle fruit flavor. I liked that the vinegar was front and center as opposed to lingering in the background. A balanced and complex piece of candy.
The last flavor was our unanimous favorite- even for Miss Love, who doesn’t like banana. Banana caramel with brown sugar lent a silky, salty flavor, like compact bananas foster, to the chocolate, even overpowering some of the darker flavors in the chocolate. This was best eaten a little warm, as the caramel oozed out. Perfectly balanced.
I’d get these again…and I might even share them, too.

Nostalgia Week #3: Shark Bites

Ernest Hemingway’s shortest tragedy: For sale: baby, shoes (never worn)
The better version (mine): Grew up in Southern Connecticut, hated the beach.
A true story, and a rather pitiful one, too. Growing up, we belonged to two beach and tennis clubs and I hated both equally. The club closest to our house was the most tolerable and thus, the one we went to most frequently. I liked it because it had a killer snack bar and plenty of trees and grass to sit under and read. Less sand, more J.K. Rowling for me. And beach snacks. What is it about salt air that makes people bust out their best stash of mindless foods to eat? Kettle Corn, charred hot dogs, puffy Jax, and Stewart’s Orange and Cream Soda were exchanged and consumed rapidly.
By far, the most superior of these snacks was Shark Bites. Easy to carry and overtly beach-themed, it was voted the best way for children to both absorb and repel the power of the shark. Everyone likes Shark Bites. They’re clearly the best of the fruit snack varieties, with their strange opaque colors and the widely disputed mystery flavor of the great white shark. Sometimes it was orange. Sometimes it was cherry. Either way, it was the most coveted of the pack and if you had two, giving one to a buddy signified a lifelong bond. At least until someone dropped theirs half-eaten into the sand and cried about it. Babies.
The doughy, glutenous chew and generic fruit-flavored profile in no way deters from eating these. With their mild tang and gentle sweetness, it’s easy to go through a pack of these- or three! They truly are the poor man’s Sharkies, and a worthy competitor at that.

Reber Mozartkugeln (Mozart Balls)

Around this time four years ago, I was bopping around the UK on a school trip. It was three parts fascinating, two parts bus rides, and one part assholes proclaiming 1/8ths Irish Pride for the entire trip. Seriously, anyone with an “-oney,” “Mc,” “Dougal,” or “leprechaun” in their name (all except Schlomo McLeprechaundougaloney, he was adopted) was prancing around Dublin screeching about how awesome it was to be back in the Motherland. I’m 1/8th English and that might just be because this morning, someone spilled their Earl Grey on my shirt, and yet I was the only one to get drunkenly propositioned outside a shady bar. Coincidence? I think not.
Aside from eating some of the best brown bread this side of the Atlantic and performing at some gorgeous churches (this is where my mother will interject that we recorded two CD’s and that I still have some back in my childhood room for sale, $7 each) Ireland and Scotland was where I first honed my compulsive weird food spending habits. Do I remember anything about Wales? Not a damned thing, but I do remember tripping while carrying two four-liter bottles of Iru Bru down a hilly road that I successfully crammed into my carry-on bag. Any memories of the Edinburgh? Outside of escaping from the group and gorging myself on all-you-can-eat Turkish Delight and invigorating Turkish coffee, nada. Of the entire trip I had about 150 photos compared to the thousands others took, and at the end, discarded some of my souvenir t-shirts to fit in a few extra bags of chicken-flavored Doritos.
And inevitably, one of the things that sticks most heavily to my brain is the copious amounts of Mozart Balls floating around as makeshift currency amongst our large group, traded for sandwiches and cigarettes like rich kid prison. Our choir instructor had discovered them on the last trip to Austria and came back addicted. She made them out to be better than peanut butter and Jesus sandwiches with the way she kept talking about them. Then again, she obviously had a bias in support of any music-related candy, but I remember trying them and being wholly unimpressed. They’d slipped my mind for a few years until today, when I found them while wandering in a local bakery.
According to their package, Mozart Balls, or Mozartkugel, are truffles with a pistachio marzipan layer, a hazelnut marzipan layer, almond nougat, and two chocolate shells. Cash, yo. Mozart’s classic come-hither expression follows your every move. After a quick Wikipedia search it looks like the ones I picked up were actually imitation Mozart Balls, the lesson of which is to know your truffles before you chomp ’em, but no harm, no foul. The truffles are fairly substantial in size with a crunchy outer layer and a very grainy, gummy inside. They also taste incredibly boozy, much more alcohol-infused than I remember. It makes me question if these were the ones I had in Europe as I know that I would not have liked the scotch-heavy notes as a child. The flavor is predominantly pistachio and amaretto with a lingering smokiness from the chocolate, and they’re not very sweet at all. The center is quite moist and chewy and one truffle makes for a filling snack. While they’re not on the top of my list and really never were, it was a pleasant trip down memory lane- detouring, as always, to cram something in my mouth.

Trader Joe’s Speculoos Cookie Spread Dark Chocolate Bar

Don’t worry, I won’t complain too much, but I need to get this out in the open: the LSAT isn’t killing me, but it is kind of stressful. And, at risk of sounding somewhat stereotypical, sometimes the best medicine for stress is chocolate and a ton of alcohol. As having a stiff drink wouldn’t be good before the gym (I look drunk enough running on a treadmill when I’m sober) I opted for the former when Miss Love and I picked up this speculoos spread dark chocolate bar from Trader Joe’s today.
Speculoos is this year’s red velvet or last year’s cupcakes or 2010’s salted caramel. For those of you who don’t know, and I’m assuming that includes the Amish and diabetics, speculoos is like shortbread’s tanner, more exotic cousin from the Netherlands. It’s spicy and crunchy and is fairly simple to make and eat. And ever since people found out that flying Delta meant free Biscoff cookies, they’ve been going crazy for them. Personally, I only get Biscoff cookies when I’m flying Delta versus buying them in the grocery store because I feel like I’m being rewarded for dropping $500 on a flight crammed with babies and the morbidly obese, but since the debut of their new Biscoff spread, I’ve seen many a cupcake or cookie made with them.
This chocolate bar isn’t explicitly advertised as being made with Biscoff spread, but since Trader Joe’s sells popular brands under its own private labels, it isn’t necessary to be Scooby Doo to figure this mystery out. The bar is very smartly presented in a bright gold wrapper and navy blue outer liner. The dark chocolate coating on the bar is fairly thick and is molded beautifully. For a dollar candy bar, it’s glossy and crisp with a delicately textured grid on top and separates easily into six pieces with a good snap. The dark chocolate is woodsy and smooth and melts coolly on the tongue, if a little slowly. The filling is where this most shines. It has a thick, buttercream-like texture to it and a few basic spice notes– cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves, were immediately present in the bite. It is a little greasy but doesn’t induce queasy feelings and has a slight crunchy grittiness from the cookie pieces embedded inside.
It’s quite tasty and isn’t afraid to be a little salty, but could have been more aggressive in flavor, as the dark chocolate was very powerful and thickly molded around the filling. In the end pieces, this tends to overwhelm the filling. Still, if I only had a dollar to buy a candy bar, this would win every time. Its quality far surpasses its price. I’ll have to stock up on my next visit to Trader Joe’s in case this disappears during the next financial quarter.

Delicious Eagle Confection Tomato White Chocolate Candies

Unless you’re one of those 75% off candy hounds, you’re probably sick of Valentine’s Day offerings at this point. I’ve never just celebrated Valentine’s Day on its own. I’m pretty sure everyone else is in the same boat where the first two weeks of February basically comprise a slow incline to the grand bash. In the days leading up, I’ve tried to keep my intake light but always fall prey to the special candies and baked goods everyone’s grandma seems to churn out. And you know I’m a sucker for limited edition snacks! So to change up the game, I figure you could all use a break. Here’s a product that will swear you off Valentine’s candy, and all candy, forever.
This is yet another quirky Japanese candy that, like New Girl, pushes and pushes and never knows when to quit in its relentless search for your validation of its quirkiness. Yes, Japan, thank you for the adorable mascots. And the candy equation below detailing exactly how this two-part confection works. Oh, and the brightly colored package. I can deal with that because typically when this happens, the inside product is delightful as well as strange. But this is a new low, Japan.The strangely patriotic Eagle Confection Company, which may or may not actually exist outside of this package, brings us this creepy combination of tomatoes and white chocolate today in a fit of amateur science pairing the “harmony of sweet and sour tomato and white chocolate” per the package’s explanation. And yes, just in case you looked at the large tomato in chocolate on the package and thought, “I bet this is actually gooseberries in ranch dressing!” there are not one, and nor two, but four different representations of this combination on the front of the package, including but not limited to a soothing tomato pattern that could just as easily double as a Windows 7 default background. Did I mention these were found in a subway station?
Out of the bag, they look relatively innocuous, like something you’d buy on etsy from some homemaker in Indiana. To their credit, they look exactly as they are presented on the bag. However, in actuality, they are some of the strangest, least appealing things I have consumed in the history of this blog. They have a cloying scent that tricks the brain into thinking they’re actually sweet, but the low quality of the white chocolate and the tomatoes inside display a disappointing savory flavor with a salty, jammy aftertaste and a lingering fishiness on the tongue. They taste like chalk, salt, flour, and soy sauce, in that order. The coating crumbles easily and doesn’t melt but dissolves, leaving behind a chalky texture difficult to wash away with a glass of water.
While these were certainly different than the standard snacks one would find in the US or even in Japan, they lacked the proper execution of flavors that makes their whackier counterparts so desirable. Eating these was a bit tricky, like accidentally pouring sugar on sundried tomatoes instead of salt, and didn’t feel even remotely pleasurable or fun outside of the novelty of eating chocolate-covered vegetables.

Ginger People Ginger Peanut Chews

After a fairly awful week of fairly awful items, I figured you all deserved a break. Here’s some good old fashioned food, with calories and flavor and edible components that you might actually want to eat. My good friend Rodzilla once clarified his reasons behind an A+, illustrating his point with an impressive stack of ice cream cartons. Tonight’s product follows a similar principle. What makes a good, solid product for Foodette? Well, for starters, it’s an embarrassing lack of photos due to consumption. Believe me, we were very close to photographing an empty package for you!
This product has some of the most unique packaging I’ve ever encountered, not so much in the physical execution so much as the visual. Their logo is an anthropomorphic ginger root, with hedonistically plump features and a come hither gaze. He is typically entwined with whatever additional flavored component is in the actual candy, in this case, a shapely peanut. Perhaps the most disturbing part is that on each package, he is featured either preparing or eating his own flesh- ginger pieces! That being said, if the Ginger People ever marketed a plush version of their mascot or slapped this guy on a t-shirt, I’d be all over it.Once we ate one of these peanut ginger chews, courtesy of the Ginger People, we simply could not stop. With a short ingredient list and a mere 20 calories per chew, these are a winner in not only flavor, but health. Obviously, the Ginger People are known for ginger, and these chews incorporate said ingredient in a very refined and well-executed fashion. For the most part, I found that these chews had an addictive enough flavor and spiciness that grew in intensity with each bite, but weren’t so mindlessly chewable that I felt as though I was at risk of eating too many. Each chew is roughly the size of a Starburst, though rectangular, and is coated in corn starch and powdered sugar. It has an initial coolness on the tongue as a result of that coating, but then the sharp ginger flavor comes through brilliantly, with a clean and smooth heat that permeates the entire chew.
The peanut influence is also strong, and manifests itself in a flavor and format similar to the texture of natural peanut butter, with a pleasant graininess and not-too-sweet taste. The sweetness of the ginger really accentuates the nutty flavors of the peanuts, and supplements their lack of sweetness with the natural fruity flavor of ground ginger. Really well balanced and delicious to eat. Because they’re individually wrapped, they’re incredibly easy to slip in a pocket or purse if you don’t feel like taking the whole package along on a trip or to class. These will definitely come in handy for soothing a winter cold as well as satiating my sweet tooth in the months to come.