Authors:
Historic Era:
Historic Theme:
Subject:
October 2004 | Volume 55, Issue 5
Authors:
Historic Era:
Historic Theme:
Subject:
October 2004 | Volume 55, Issue 5
Overrated
What on the face of God’s earth has happened to the Hershey bar? Close your eyes and you’d think you were sucking Clarksdale, Mississippi, mud. You have to work hard to convince yourself it’s chocolate at all. The fact is, the regular 1.55-ounce Hershey bar in the new vacuum-sealed wrap (no more waxed paper! No more feeling as if you’re opening a present!) isn’t primo chocolate at all. Hershey chocolates have a quality pecking order. Their best is saved for the gold-foil wrapped bars. I know this because in the eighties I did a lot of Hershey’s advertising. I took factory tours. I named the Whatchamacallit (runner-up names: “Hello Mouth!” and, from Alice in Wonderland , “Eat Me!”). I got to see how the chocolate was made. I learned the insider stuff, like that monkeys swing and chatter above the imported peanuts used in Mr. Goodbar while they wait on a pier to be shipped. I learned that when you conche chocolate (rub it back and forth over granite rollers to make it smooth, a process developed by Rudolphe Lindt in 1879), eventually the stones need to be replaced. Microscopic bits of rock erode into the chocolate. I do deeply love the 12 little pre-scored pieces, each with its own logo, that snuggle perfectly into my upper palate for casual tonguing. Milton Snavely Hershey took good care of his employees and started a school for orphans. Hershey’s Ration D bar, a 450-calorie energy boost un-meltable in the tropics and loaded with vitamin B1 to prevent beriberi, accompanied our soldiers in World War II. So it’s almost un-American to gripe about the Hershey bar. But Milton would be melancholy. His namesake doesn’t taste like Hershey’s, and it’s as thin as an after-dinner mint. Any thinner, and you could read this through it.
Underrated
In 1923 the Curtiss Candy Company invented Butterfinger. Dropped from airplanes over major U.S. cities, it quickly became Curtiss’s number two candy bar, a bite behind Baby Ruth. I buy mine at Lotto & Photo, 1391 Madison Avenue, 70 cents a pop. Weighing in at 2.1 ounces, that’s a lot of candy for the money. When I was’a kid, I opted for longevity over taste, hence filling-plucker Jujubes on Saturday at the movies and Bonomo’s Turkish Taffy at the playground. Sucked correctly, it turned into a lethal weapon, same as a Sugar Daddy. I once kept a Tootsie Roll hidden in my shoe bag for a year and licked it every morning before school. Now I can afford a Butterfinger whenever I want one, but its lasting a long time still matters. A Butterfinger is a leisure-eating bar. It forces you to savor. No other candy bar is striated like shale. Its core shatters on your tongue. This makes a Butterfinger dissolve unevenly and mysteriously, leaving you with interesting hard bits to roll around on your mouth. The butter in Butterfinger refers to peanut butter, ground-roasted peanuts