Tag Archives: 31DaysOfJunk

31 Days of Junk: Haribo Ghostly Gummies (#24)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

I’m just gonna say it: I don’t like gummy bears.

It doesn’t matter the brand, I can’t get down with any of them. I’ve always found them to be oddly greasy, and there’s something about their lack of coating that makes me feel as if I’m just gnawing on blubber. *shudder*

Now, there are plenty of gummy candies and gummy-adjacent candies I can and do get down with.  Sour Patch Kids. Licorice. Those gummy coke bottles that are covered in granulated sugar (especially the cherry coke kind!) All of those pass the texture test for my mouth.

But not the plain ol’ goomy bears.

That being said, I can appreciate what Haribo did with their “Ghostly Gummies”. Four different designs—a bat, a skeleton, a pumpkin, and a skull—in colors like yellow, orange, and purple-black. For not doing anything new with the recipe, they did a good job of a switching up the presentation.

As I said, no new recipe—same old fruit gummy bear flavor. When I opened the bag and took a whiff, it was that distinctly recognizable scent that all original gummy bears have, that of orange tea. It’s such an appealing smell that I really wish I could get into gummy bears more, but I just can’t.

Strangely enough, I’ve almost finished off the entire bag since typing this, so maybe I’m a convert??

Photo: ObsessiveSweets.com

31 Days of Junk: Brach’s Smore’s Candy Corn (#21)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Another day, another candy corn type of goodie. Only this time, it’s not a random treat trying to imitate candy corn, it’s candy corn trying to imitate a random treat. To be specific: a s’more.

S’mores are American as apple pie, but they taste better and are way more fun to make. They’re truly one of the greatest junk foods ever to be assembled. Which is why whenever a company releases a s’more-inspired snack, I’m ever so eager to try them.

I’ve had s’more Oreos (why didn’t you call them S’mOreos, you idiots?) and enjoyed ’em. I’ve had Ben & Jerry’s s’more ice cream. I’ve had both name brand and generic versions of s’more cereal, both equally delicious. But each of these takes on the classic campfire treat had the vital components to make it work: namely, graham cracker crunch (in some form or another), actual marshmallow, and real chocolate. This is why these various iterations work so well.

But can a s’more-flavored candy corn pull it off? These ones from Brach’s do a pretty decent job of it.

Again, they lack the full-bodied, all-encompassing experience that goes along with eating an actual s’more (or any s’more adjacent treat involving the same ingredients), but what they lack in varied textures they make up for in size. These suckers are huge! Far bigger than your average candy corn. The picture doesn’t do them justice. They’re like arrowheads. Or teeth from a Sarcosuchus.

The main flavor here is marshmallow. A bit of cocoa, too. But I didn’t notice much graham cracker taste. If I closed my eyes and ate one of these and you told me it was a hot chocolate-flavored candy corn, I’d have believed you.

I tried biting them down the line, color by color, to see if the different colors, in fact, faithfully represented the flavor they were supposed to—but I didn’t notice any variation.

While these certainly won’t replace the s’more, they’re good in a pinch.

31 Days of Junk: Skeleteens Love Potion No. 69 (#20)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Finally, a Skeleteens soda that doesn’t scorch my innards! It’s even, dare I say…refreshing? A quick look at the ingredients list explains why: this one doesn’t contain jalapeno oil. Hallelujah!

The ingredient list is still pretty wild and chockfull of weird herbs that I wouldn’t be able to pronounce right on the first go ’round. And while the wild ingredients didn’t really make sense with the other two sodas I tried, here they sort of do: I think this particular soft drink is supposed to be an aphrodisiac. At least, that’s what the scrawlings on the side of the label would lead me to believe. (Specifically, “arousing carbonated drink.”)

Well, I’ve drunk half the bottle, and I’m not aroused, but I do think it’s the best Skeleteens soda I’ve tried, so perhaps it’s making me feel lovey-dovey.

The soda has a really pretty amethyst color to it and a subtle floral flavor. There’s a bit of grape popsicle or watered-down cough medicine in the smell, too. It’s not overly sweet—just right, in fact. And nicely carbonated—won’t burn a hole through your tongue.

One of the ingredients is dillweed, and believe it or not, it was the first thing I tasted with my initial sip. Like a pickle, minus the sour saltiness. Just a little grassiness, somewhere in the distance there.

Overall all, a winner from The Skeleteens!

31 Days of Junk: Jelly Belly Candy Corn (#19)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

I didn’t realize this, but one of Jelly Belly’s original confections was candy corn and other mellowcreme treats. In fact, they were the primary confections before Jelly Belly started making jelly beans. Crazy, right?

The company, started in 1869, was originally called “Gustav Goelitz”, named after the man who started the company. It wasn’t until 1960 that the company started making jelly beans, and it would be another 16 years before they came up with the name “Jelly Belly”.

With that bit of history out of the way, it made me wonder: considering its history, would that mean Jelly Belly makes the best candy corn? Better than Brach’s?

After eating a few of Jelly Belly’s take on the tri-colored fall treat, I can say definitively, without a doubt: I don’t know!

They’re much smaller than Brach’s, that’s for sure. And they seem more nicely made: glossier and more of an effort to make the candy look like actual corn. (Notice the ridging on each piece.) The texture and flavor are also a bit different. These are chewier and have a softer candy corn flavor, versus other brands I’ve eaten which overwhelm my mouth with cloying sweetness after just a few pieces.

Would I be able to tell them apart from other brands in a blind taste test? Probably not. They taste like candy corn; I guess that’s all that matters.

 

31 Days of Junk: Skeleteens Brain Wash (#16)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Last week I wrote about another Skeleteens soda, “Black Lemonade”. I’d tried it once in my youth, and now, over 20 years later, I was able to track it down for this #31DaysOfJunk thing I’m currently in the midst of. In fact, I tracked down all of the Skeleteens sodas I owned back then, including “Love Potion #69” and “Brain Wash”, which I’m drinking as I type this.

I wouldn’t say I’m a “craft soda” kind of person, but I wouldn’t say I’m not, either. I just don’t drink soda, so I’m sort of out of my element when it comes to fancy, micro-operation sodas. I am, however, into microbrews and craft beers so I understand the “appreciation of the product”, which I think is probably a similar approach to both craft soda and craft brews.

To me, a soda should be refreshing, thirst-quenching, and able to be slugged down in three massive gulps. I assume this is probably how most non-craft beer drinkers approach craft beer: how cheap is it, how fast can I drink it, and how drunk will it get me?

So when I try “Brain Wash”, and find it strange and spicy on my palate, and can’t immediately guzzle it down, and have to sip it, I just apply my microbrew-appreciator logic to the situation; I realize that this soda wasn’t meant to be quickly consumed or have recognizable flavors. It’s meant to be admired, enjoyed, valued—the same way I would enjoy a craft beer.

At least, I think that’s what is going on. To be honest, these sodas are way too spicy for my sensitive lil’ tum. Even sipping them leaves me with brief heartburn. After all, Brain Wash contains jalapeno oil. (No, really.) There’s a whole bunch of other herbs in the soda, most of which I’ve never heard of. What they’re supposed to do, I’m not sure. Wash my brain, apparently.

This drink comes in both a red and a blue version, and while I’m not entirely sure what the difference is, I happened to have the red version, and it’s a lovely ruby color that I’ve never seen in a soda before. I like colorful sodas; brown and clear are so boring. Gimme blue, pink, yellow, ruby. If I’m going to destroy my teeth and my pancreas, at least let me marvel at some beautiful hues while doing so!

31 Days of Junk: Candy Corn-Flavored Pez (#15)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Vern Tessio was onto something when he said, “If I could only have one food for the rest of my life? That’s easy: Pez. Cherry-flavored Pez. No question about it.” I share his opinion on the brick-shaped candies. Pez would definitely be a desert island snack for me.

What’s not to love? They’re tiny, they’re tangy, they’re tasty. Indeed, they taste like the flavors they purport to be, and they’re totally fun to eat! A candy dispenser—a different candy dispenser—with each purchase of Pez? Are you kidding? That’s like the perfect candy scenario for a kid. A dream come true.

Plus, to me, it always felt like I was eating an actual toy, like a Lego, and that stroked those innate, forbidden feelings that children have deep down—of wanting to eat a toy, but not have it do any major damage to your internal organs. Such a satisfying feeling.

If I had my pick, I’d say I’m a lemon Pez kinda guy, which is interesting as lemon is usually my last choice for candies that come in various flavors (Warheads, Sour Patch Kids, Mike and Ike, Skittles, et. al.). It just goes to show you the power of Pez. But really, all flavors of Pez are great, and I would take any one of them, any time.

The Candy Corn Pez have a strong maple scent right out of the package. Butterscotch, maybe. Definitely buttery. Waffles and syrup? Candy corn is buttery, for sure, but it has almost a marshmallow smell out of the bag.

Flavor-wise, they do a decent job of replicating the taste of candy corn, while still maintaining that signature Pez “tang”. Mostly maple, but again, heavy butter flavor, too. If you close your eyes and imagine candy corn, they do the trick. They also taste like another candy I’ve eaten before, but I cannot figure out what it is for the life of me. It’s driving me nuts! It’s particularly noticeable when I toss more than a couple Pez in the ol’ maw at one time (which is every time).

When Halloween rolls around when I’m stuck on my desert island, I’ll break out the Candy Corn Pez, for sure.