Despite my proclivities towards dark and often unadulterated chocolate, sometimes a girl jist cain’t say no to a candy bar that promises a sugary high. Such was the case with the following two bars, and as has happened before, I found myself enjoying what I thought would be forgettable and being incredibly disappointed by what I had thought would be fantastic.
Sometimes the life of a chocolate reviewer is traumatic.
Jokerz Candy Bar
The Jokerz Candy Bar is made by Go Max Go, a vegan family-owned business that creates vegan versions of several popular candy bars.
With its caramel, peanuts, nougat, and “rice-milk chocolatey coating”, the Jokerz is the vegan version of Snickers. After my experience with the Crispy Cat, I must admit to not having high hopes for this vegan candy bar.
More fool me! Sure, the Jokerz is incredibly, mind-bogglingly sweet, but it works. There’s a depth to the sweetness that was missing from the cloying one-note Crispy Cat. The Jokerz caramel is softer, glossier, and grainier than the dairy-laden Snickers version, but it also has a unique and distinct floral fruitiness on its side.
The nougat has a nice maltiness and the “chocolatey-coating” sufficies, though admittedly does not have any discernable cocoa notes of its own. The only disappointment is the peanuts, which are few and far between and have a too-subtle raw flavour. I couldn’t help wishing the peanuts contributed a stronger roasted nuttiness, but the caramel and nougat were interesting enough on their own.
However, for a [very sweet] candy bar, this really hit the spot.
Trader Joe’s PB & J Bar
Oh, Trader Joe’s. How could you lie to me so? You promised peanut butter, milk and dark chocolate, raspberry jam and, most excitingly of all, potato chips:
Lucky me? Lucky me? I ask you, Trader Joe’s, where is the dark chocolate? By raspberry jam, do you mean the millimetre thick piece of rubber that, when dissected from the rest of the bar, tasted faintly of fruit roll ups? And where are my potato chips, with their salty and crunchy goodness? Where?
I see no dark chocolate. I see no potato chips. And worse, nor do I taste them. Even your peanut butter description is almost a falsehood. I accept that the texture of your filling has that same beautiful smoothness found inside a Lindor truffle. But you have presented me with the lamest and vaguest excuse for peanut butter flavour in the (my) history of candy.
You ought to be ashamed of yourself, Trader Joe’s. And if it weren’t for the fact that I love your bran muffins and your dark chocolate almonds with turbinado sugar and sea salt, I would never darken your doorway again.