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Tuesday , December 14, 2010
nogoodforme Superlatives: Our Favorite Candy Bars
BUTTERFINGERS, SINE QUA NON
The thing that intrigues me most about Butterfingers is that it mimics no known canonical flavors found in nature. The chocolate may be chocolate, but the Butterfinger really just tastes like itself and nothing else. While so many candy bars are made up of recognizable elements like peanuts, salt, caramel and so on, a Butterfinger is simply just "Butterfinger," a singular entity unto itself. (Perhaps it's meant to evoke butterscotch crossed with peanut brittle, but no butterscotch or peanut brittle I have ever had in my life has ever tasted like a Butterfinger.) I have super-fond memories of being little and my dad coming home from work with Butterfingers on his person, and my sisters and I would ransack him every afternoon to find them. Now I'm slightly weirded out by the name, but it doesn't stop me from having one every now and then. (Kat)
"I NEVER MET A MARS BAR I DIDN'T LIKE" - ELIZABETH "BLACK EYES" BARKER
This photo is a lie: "Lion" is not my favorite candy bar; I'd never even heard of the damn things before last night's trip to India Sweets and Spices. But I love lions, and sometimes Kat calls me a lion, and I used the word "lion" in the headline of the first post of my L.A. Life Lessons series that I swear I'm gonna finish someday soon, so I really wanted to pose with the packaging. Also, I'm proud to report that Lion bars are grrrrrrrrreat, wafers and caramel enrobed in the milkiest milk chocolate, and now I'm so in love.
But: "Lion" is not my favorite candy bar! I don't actually have a favorite candy bar, because there are so many bars that bring me such joy in all these wonderful ways. Like, Milky Ways are so good for sticking in the freezer and eating with a giant white peach and a glass of pink wine to celebrate your sixth anniversary of living in Los Angeles. And 3 Musketeers rule cuz you can peel off the chocolate, eat it all up, and the nougat-y center leftover is like "second treat" (to semi-quote Pam Beesley). And I love Snickers because they remind me of those commercials in the '80s where someone would have a handful of peanuts, close their palm, then reopen it and the peanuts would have turned into a Snickers bar! Sometimes my cousins and I used to pour peanuts into our hands and then sit around opening and closing our palms, waiting for a Snickers to appear. Such sweethearted fools we were.
So, those are all Mars bars, but I've also got big love for Aero bars, which are made by Nestle and all British and shit. I'll never forget when my exboyfriend first introduced me to the British-candy aisle of the grocery store: It was a starry night at the Star Market in Porter Square, the moon shone like silver. We got an Aero bar, and a Flake bar, and maybe a Crunchie bar too. For a while all I did was eat Aero bars all the time, and it was heaven on earth. Why is British chocolate so much better than American chocolate? Why is my Lion bar already all gone away? (Liz)
CARAMILK BARS- THE OFFICIAL FOOD OF "BEING LAURA JANE FAULDS"
What a wretched fate it would be, to be the type of explainer who can only express the extra-wow!- good things of life by likening them to having an orgasm. Really?!? Does "Helter Skelter" build up to a rollicking sonic climax? NOT AN ORGASM. Oh and was your last week's rich-chick back massage totally relaxing? STILL NOT AN ORGASM. Did you have a great workout? Did you watch a movie with Clive Owen in it? Is cake decadent? THESE THINGS ARE ALSO NOT ORGASMS.
But like yeah OK if there was like one moment I've ever lived that like was totally comparable to &/or good in the same way as &/or physically reminiscent of having an orgasm but, like, wasn't, it would definitely be the moment when I took my first bite of a Caramilk bar after a horrifically depressing minimum seven-year-long "eating Caramilk bars regularly" drought.
Fuck not eating Caramilk bars regularly. Two weeks less one day ago, I ditched veganism forever, and am now on an eating rampage. I have the voracious appetite of Jughead Jones. Every meal is a holiday. It is just so rad not having all these fucking annoying fucking dietary restrictions fucking my shit up! I'm so into being "a vegetarian" and not "an anorexic vegan." A lot of people who ditch veganism (such as Kat Asharya) have their minds blown by cheese. I'm kind of over cheese; I just don't think it's that amazing. What I think is amazing are: Caramilk bars. If I could only eat one food for the rest of my life, it would be: Caramilk bars.
I can still remember the first bite I ever took of a Caramilk bar. I might have described it as "orgasmic," except I was three years old. Some asshole motherfuckers can't "handle" Caramilks, because they're "too sweet." These people are pussies. Suck it up, you babies. Eat Caramilk bars. I do. Eating Caramilk bars is like watching my entire life flash before my eyes; apparently, I have never not been eating a Caramilk bar. Eating Caramilk bars reminds me of the time I listened to "Wherewithall" by Clifford T. Ward on acid and genuinely could not fathom how there was ever a second of my life when "Wherewithall" by Clifford T. Ward was not playing in the background.
I eat a Caramilk bar a day. This has been true of me for six days straight. Once, I even ate two. Today, I may very well eat three. Or maybe I'll get myself one of those Caramilk Klondike cones. Perhaps it will be "better than sex." (Laura Jane)
Tags: being Laura Jane Faulds, candy bars, Caramilk bars, chocolate, Clifford T Ward, Clive Owen, eating disorder recovery, helter Skelter, India Sweets and Spices, lions, pink wine, The Office, things that are not orgasms
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