Posts Tagged ‘Cadbury’

As you’ve probably guessed by now, I don’t tend to go in for mass-market candy-esque chocolates. Sure, I once bought supermarket-brand Mars Bars to make bonza bubble truffles, but that was the exception, not the rule.

Picnics? Meh. The wafer always seems stale.

Snickers? At least they have peanuts.

Bounty bars? Too much coconut.

Boost bars? Ick.

Cherry Ripes? Only if I’m buying them for my dad.

Violet Crumbles? Keep those styrofoam logs of terror away from me.

There is, however, one candy-style chocolate bar that I willingly buy once every, oh, say, three years.

The Crunchie Bar. Sometimes its tooth-aching sweetness, honey notes, and melts-upon-contact honeycomb filling is just what the doctor ordered. (My doctor has, in fact, told me to eat chocolate, find a job I like, and go to parties and kiss boys. Seriously, she said that. It all had something to do with her decreeing that I should have fun occasionally. She’s a pretty awesome doctor, really, even if she does make me buy ugg boots.)

I can’t remember the last time I bought a Crunchie Bar, but I can tell you the last time I bought a Crunchie-branded product.

That would be three days ago.

Cadbury Crunchie Rocks

Cadbury Crunchie Rocks

According to the packaging/marketing blurb, “Crunchie Rocks™ bitesize pieces are the ideal way to rock-out in your own special way and get that Crunchie™ feeling”.

I don’t know about you, but that sounds suspiciously euphemistic to me. Perhaps because I’ve grown up in an era when “getting your rocks off” doesn’t mean brushing quartz crystals off your lap? Being told to “rock-out” in my “special way” to “get that … feeling” makes me want to cover my ears and think of a more innocent time when chocolate was simply associated with birthday parties and teddy bears’ picnics.

Oh, and a time when I didn’t have to feel guilty about spending my grocery money on non-artisan chocolate instead of, say, potatoes*.

Cadbury Crunchie Rocks

These Crunchie Rocks are made with Cadbury Dairy Milk chocolate, crunchie bits, and cornflakes. In other words, these chocolate clusters are comprised of Sweet plus Sweet plus Slightly Malty and Salty. Surprisingly, that all equals Not Too Bad.

Sure, these “rocks” are crazy sweet, but I’ve honestly had worse. There were discernible caramel notes in the milk chocolate that were quite pleasant, and the cornflakes did, on occasion, cut through the chocolate’s sweetness with a hint of savoury malt, corn, and salt.

Cadbury Crunchie Rocks

The Crunchie bits in this chocolate did provide the familiar honey sweetness of a full-size Crunchie bar, but they lacked the mystical dissolving property that real Crunchie bars have. You know, the way the honeycomb melts away into nothingness once you’ve placed it in your mouth? Those of you who have eaten Crunchies might recall that one side of honeycomb plank never dissolves like the rest of it does, and instead stays brutally hard. That’s what the Crunchie bits in these rocks were like. Brutally hard, as if waging war on your teeth.

In all honesty, I was expecting these Crunchie Rocks to taste far worse than they did. That said, I wouldn’t buy them again unless I was suffering from a serious sugar deficiency (unlikely, taking into consideration the aforementioned doctor’s orders). I’m far more likely, in the future, to walk past these chocolates in the confectionary aisle whilst sniffing dismissively and muttering “keep it in your pants, fellas”.

Take that, “special feeling”.

 * Who am I kidding? I’ll always choose chocolate over potatoes. Except when I’m planning to make shepherd’s pie, of course, because even I know that chocolate doesn’t make a good topping for savoury pie.


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The past few chocolates reviewed on this blog have been more about additions  and intrigue than the quality of the chocolate itself. As you should know by now, I’m no single-origin-only-artisanal-get-that-extraneous-object-away-from-my-cacao snob. Curry and milk chocolate? Why not? Salt and Pepper dark chocolate? Absolutely. I’m an equal-opportunity chocolate fiend. Or friend. Friendly fiend? No matter. I’m sure you catch my drift. My rambling, easily distracted drift. Ooh, hang on a tick, I think I just saw something sparkly out of the corner of my eye…

Where was I? Ah, yes. I was talking about how I’m generally open to a range of different chocolate experiences. Well, folks, I’m here to tell you that sometimes it pays to be a chocolate snob. For, as the old saying goes, Discerning Means Never Having To Say You’re Sorry [You Ate That].

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

Cadbury Old Golf Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

It's New! And that's the most positive thing I have to say.

There is one word that encapsulates everything you need know about this chocolate. That word is sweet. Sweeeeeeeeeeeet. And not sweet in the “I just found a twenty dollar note on the pavement… sweet” way. Sweet in the “oh-holy-bucket-I-need-a-glass-of-water-and-a-packet-of-salt-and-vinegar-chips” way. In fact, this chocolate is so sweet that I was moved to write an acrostic about it:

So full of saccharine that it gives me the
Willies, because
Even the purported “dark”-ness of the chocolate is
Evidently a misnomer. Dear Cadbury,
Toffee was not your cleverest addition to an already cloying chocolate.

Cadbury Old Gold Toffee Crunch Dark Chocolate

Yes, this is a terrible photo, but in all honesty I didn't plan to blog this chocolate. I didn’t think I could write an entire post about something that is nothing but throat-searingly sweet... I should never doubt me again.

My tasting notes attest to how hard I struggled to pinpoint any flavour complexities in this chocolate. I thought the aroma was a bit like the patty-case toffees sold at school fetes… then I realised that such toffees are made of nothing but sugar and water. Then I thought that the chocolate itself had some honey notes… but really it was just burningly sweet.

Admittedly, the toffee parts reminded me of Crunchie bars… but Crunchies are, in all honesty, little else but sweet. This Cadbury Toffee Crunch bar didn’t even have discernible cocoa notes. Do you know what notes it did have?

Yep. Sugar notes. Sharp, sharp, sharp and unceasing sugar notes.

And do you want to know the most upsetting part about this chocolate and its unrelenting assault of sweet on my palate?

It led me to write an acrostic poem. An acrostic poem. The worst kind of poem there is.

I’m a broken shell of a woman.

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