Brian Francis's Blog

Best and Worst Store-Bought Cream Style Corn

Corn is one of the Mother Nature’s miracle foods. Just consider all the gifts corn has given us: corn chips, corn syrup, Corn Flakes, corn dogs and ethanol. And let’s not forget the overlooked glory that is cream style corn.

Cream style corn was my favourite vegetable as a child. Actually, it was the only vegetable I ate, because a) it was sweet, and b) the corn kernels were already mushed up which meant minimal chewing. Yes, I was a lazy kid. Cream style corn also seemed like the more glamorous cousin to regular canned corn. It could turn a regular Sunday dinner into a episode of Dynasty.

I haven’t given cream style corn much thought in my adult years and thought it was time to revisit the beloved yellow sludge of my youth. Fun fact: Despite its name, canned cream style corn isn’t made with cream. The kernels are scraped off and then the stripped shaft is milked. I’ll just leave that there.

I bought 8 brands of cream style corn to determine the best and worst. I wanted a cream style corn that wasn’t too runny, not too sweet, and had a good ratio of firm kernels to smashed bits.

Which brand buttered my cob and which brand did I tell to get the shuck outta here? Here are my rankings, worst to best.

8) Life Smart $1.49

I’m assuming this no-salt version is an attempt to make cream style corn healthier. Although, if I was that concerned about my health, I wouldn’t be eating 8 cans of cream style corn in the first place. I just hoped this brand lived up to its name and made me smarter in life.

Tasting notes: The colour had a grey undertone which I took as a bad omen. This tasted terrible, like eating corn in water. Who knew that a little salt could go such a long way? That said, I can now confirm that 2 + 2 = 4.

Verdict: Not a smart decision.

7) PC Blue Menu $1.50

Given my experience with Life Smart, I didn’t have high hopes for this salt-free version either. Although I appreciated there were no synthetic colours as the label stated. I only wear synthetic, never eat it.

Tasting notes: This tasted like canned despair. Look, at my age, I’ll take my chances with sodium. The only way I could finish was by sprinkling it with salt. Which defeats the purpose.

Verdict: Left me blue.

6) Selection $1.49

Selection is Metro’s house brand. I thought the label design was attractive. While we’re on the topic, why is cream style hyphenated on some labels, but not on others? Grammar police, can you set the record straight?

Tasting notes: This one had a goopy texture and reminded me of the flour and water paste we used to make in school. Often, that was my only lunch as a child; the seventies were a tough decade. Selection had a weird taste. I wouldn’t say “dusty,” but there was something going on in my mouth that I didn’t like.

Verdict: Not making this selection again.

5) Compliments $1.99

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. I thought they had the most unique packaging and appreciated their attempt to stand apart in the world of cream style corn. Which, when I consider it, isn’t all that hard. The spoon is kind of weird, though. I think there’s some kind of demonic symbol in the corn. Whatever you do, don’t turn your phone upside down and look at it.

Tasting notes: There were some nice, full-sized kernels in the mix, but what Compliments gained in texture it lost in taste. This brand was bland, bland, bland. It was a good reminder that, sometimes, the label is more interesting than the contents. This also applies to people.

Verdict: No compliments.

4) Del Monte $3.49

Del Monte is one of the better-known brands when it comes to canned vegetables and fruit. My mom used to pour JELL-O into a drained can of Del Monte pineapple rings, chill until it set, and then slice through so that each golden ring was enrobed in quivering red gelatin. Now you see why I’m such a bon vivant.

Tasting notes: This was thicker and more gelatinous than some of the other brands. The overall texture was okay, but I found the experience uninspiring. Del Monte was missing something and that something was flavour.

Verdict: Dull Monte

3) No Name $1.29

For once, the No Name label worked in its favour. After all, nothing says corn more than a neon yellow can. I also liked the “simple” bubble. It felt like they were speaking directly to me.

Tasting notes: No Name had the least amount of corn chunks compared to the others. It was also soupier. That said, the overall flavour was robust, although there was a slight vinegary note. Toss in more corn and No Name might’ve been in the running.

Verdict: Almost made a name for itself.

2) Great Value $1.27

Wal-Mart’s house brand has surprised me in the past. Specifically, how Great Value performed in my Boxed Macaroni and Cheese Taste Test. That said, generic brands can be hit or miss.

Tasting notes: Great Value had a nice creaminess and a good balance of corn chunks. It was better than I thought it would be. Which leaves me wondering – are some generic brands really that good, or are our expectations so low, it makes them seem better than they actually are?

Verdict: Low expectations mean less disappointment. This also applies to people.

1) Green Giant, $1.77

Green Giant is the brand most people associate with canned vegetables. Its towering green mascot is so iconic, it’s impossible for me to wear my toga made of leaves and not think of cubed carrots. But was GG big on taste? (Given its placement, I’ve pretty much answered that.)

Tasting notes: Green Giant was the chunkiest brand compared to the others. In fact, it was downright chock-full o’ corn! In terms of taste, it had a nice balance of sweetness, good overall corn flavour and great texture. I had to chew, but not a lot. My seven-year-old self would approve.

Verdict: Amaizing

If you’re not already corned out, here’s a recipe that features cream style corn as an ingredient. It hails from my copy of “The Best of Enbridge,” which has provided me with countless culinary joys over the years including Meatless Special K Roast and Popcorn Salad.

This Delicious Corn Bake recipe calls for just 4 ingredients. Best of all, you don’t boil the macaroni. It cooks in the corn water! How efficient is that? I can confirm the recipe lives up to the name. It’s delicious. Like gourmet mac and cheese. Only cornier.

Genevieve from Estevan, Saskatchewan, thank you for spreading the creamy corn love!

And thank YOU, dear reader, for joining me on this important journey. If you’re ever passing a corn field and see a middle-aged man in a leaf toga, be sure to wave hello to me.

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Best and Worst Canadian Chocolate Bars

Recently, the news that Neilson discontinued its Jersey Milk bar rattled chocolate lovers everywhere. Well, at least here in Canada. A national icon alongside Mitsou, ketchup chips and the giant papier mâché apple in Colborne, Ontario, Jersey Milk was known for its wholesome chocolate goodness.

I had to wonder: What other bars might soon be on the choco chopping block? It was time to revisit Canadian chocolate bars before any others melted into obscurity. I rounded up 13 different kinds to determine the nation’s best – and worst.

I was looking for a chocolate bar that offered depth, texture and good value for my loonie. Or, rather, three loonies. Inflation is the worst.

Which Canadian chocolate bar scored a golden ticket – and which left me still looking for Mr. Goodbar?

Here are my rankings, worst to best.

13. Big Turk

First introduced in 1974 by the Kitchener, Ontario-based Smiles n’ Chuckles company, Big Turk boasts a ruby-red Turkish delight interior covered in a thin coating of milk chocolate. In the chocolate bar landscape, Big Turk stands on its own in terms of its uniqueness. That’s including its curvy shape. But how does it taste?

Tasting notes: No good came from chocolate-covered gel. Honestly, Big Turk was so off-putting, I almost didn’t finish it. That’s saying a lot. To make matters worse, Big Turk got stuck to my teeth, so I spent the rest of my day working little bits of gel loose. It’s the chocolate bar that won’t let you escape.

Verdict: No delight.

12. Eat-More

Created in the early 1900s by the Lowney Company, Eat-More is a bendable, stretchable bar consisting of chopped peanuts, dark toffee and unsweetened chocolate. It was promoted as “a real long chew,” but is that much of a selling point?

Tasting notes: Eat-More tastes like a candy bar you’d make during the Depression using oats, tar and tree sap. Let’s talk about that real long chew. It was a full 32 minutes before I could even swallow. The only redeeming thing about Eat-More is that, because of its pliability, you can use it like plasticine or to patch holes in drywall.

Verdict: Eat-None

11. Cherry Blossom

Adored by Great Aunt Eleanors coast to coast, Lowry’s Cherry Blossom is a maraschino cherry entombed in a sarcophagus of chocolate, shredded coconut and roasted peanuts. As a kid, the main appeal was the box. I used it to store practical things, like buttons and teeth. Technically not a chocolate bar, Cherry Blossoms were discontinued in early 2025, which would explain the dust covering the box at my local convenience store.

Tasting notes: It’s not that the Cherry Blossom was bad, and there’s a substantial layer of chocolate to bite through, but overall, this blossom was too sweet. Once you hit that centre cherry, a geyser of liquid sugar explodes, causing your eyes to roll back in your head – and not in a good way.

Verdict: The box is still the best part.

10. Pal-o-Mine

I came across this at Bulk Barn. It’s considered one of the oldest packaged chocolate bars in North America, consisting of brown sugar fudge and chopped peanuts covered in dark chocolate. Pal-o-Mine is divided in two pieces for sharing. I don’t know what kind of sick person shares their chocolate bars.

Tasting notes: If you think chocolate-covered fudge sounds overly sweet, it is. In fact, I lost three teeth eating Pal-o-Mine. (Thankfully, I have that Cherry Blossom box to store them in.) And where were the supposed peanuts? I couldn’t find any nuts to save my life. Which is a familiar feeling for me.

Verdict: Not a pal-o-your-teeth.

9. Crispy Crunch

Developed in 1930 by Harold Oswin, a Neilson candy roller, Crispy Crunch has been a Canadian classic ever since. I loved Crispy Crunch as a kid. I did notice a change in the packaging, however. What happened to those carboard sleeves chocolate bars used to come in?

Tasting notes: The main appeal of a Crispy Crunch is its flaky, peanut butter interior. I don’t know if the recipe has changed or if I got a stale bar but instead of flaky, my bar was dense, hard and sticky. I wondered what other childhood idols would come crashing down next.

Verdict: Crappy Crunch

8. Mr. Big

First introduced in 1979, Mr. Big was all about quantity with the tagline, “When you’re this big, they call you mister.” Mr. Big boasts vanilla wafers, caramel, peanuts and rice crisps. But I’m certain Mr. Big has shrunk over the years. For evidence, here’s a photo of me as a child about to tear one open.

Exhibit A

Tasting notes: As a kid, I felt like I was getting more bang for my allowance bucks with Mr. Big, but I’m an adult now with more refined tastes. And Mr. Big came up short. I think those wafers are more for filler, it was too sweet, and size will only hold your interest for so long.  

Verdict: The bigger they are, the harder they fall.

7. Aero

I wasn’t sure if this was considered a Canadian bar, since Aero first appeared in 1935 in the North of England. But there are many British things that Canadians embrace as their own, like Red Rose tea figurines, Coronation Street and Fergie. Aero is known for its bubbly texture that collapses as you eat it.

Tasting notes: It’s not that Aero isn’t an enjoyable experience, but why add air bubbles to something when you could have more chocolate take up that space? It’s like hollow Easter bunnies. Wrong, wrong, wrong.

Verdict: Cupid’s aero didn’t strike.

6. Coffee Crisp

I have conflicted feelings about Coffee Crisp. As a kid, it was usually the last chocolate bar left in my pillowcase at Halloween. I never liked the taste, but maybe I wasn’t the target audience. Now that I’m a caffeine-addicted adult, would my impressions change?

Tasting notes: The wafer layers had a good crispiness, paired with the coffee-flavoured cream. And it had a nice snap, living up to its name. But I’m going on record to say that you’re either a Coffee Crisp person or you’re not. There is no in-between. Unless it’s the last chocolate bar in your pillowcase.

Verdict: A double-double dilemma.

5. Caramilk

Introduced in 1968, Caramilk is filled with – you guessed it – caramel. An ongoing advertising campaign posed the question: How did the caramel get inside? But was it that much of a mystery? Clearly, they had an assembly line of fairies who injected the caramel using hummingbird beaks. Am I the only one who knew this?

Tasting notes: Caramilk is a good chocolate bar. But it reminded me of taking piano lessons as a kid: Banging on one note does not a song make. And by one note, I mean sweet. Sure, the idea of caramel oozing out of those pockets is alluring (although it leaks more than oozes), but ultimately, Caramilk didn’t tickle my ivories.

Verdict: Don’t send the fairies after me.

4. Crunchie

A chocolate-coated sponge toffee bar, Crunchie is one of my adult staples. I think it’s lower in calories than most, so I feel less guilty. In the U.K., sponge toffee is referred to as honeycomb, which sounds more appetizing, mainly because of the absence of the word “sponge.”

Tasting notes: What I like about Crunchie, aside from its crunchiness, is that it’s more than just sweet. The sponge toffee adds a burnt sugar depth and provides more nuance and complexity than your average chocolate bar. The downside? Like Big Turk, Crunchie sticks to your teeth.

Verdict: Tastes better than a sponge.

3. Jersey Milk

The inspiration for my taste test! I searched everywhere for a Jersey Milk but couldn’t find one. I had almost given up hope when I went to a variety store in my neighbourhood. I couldn’t believe my eyes when I saw a box with three bars. “Do you have any idea how long I’ve been looking for these?” I exclaimed to the store owner. (Based on her reaction, she didn’t. Nor did she care.) It was only when I got home that I realized all three bars were well beyond their expiration dates. But I didn’t care. I’m past my best-before date, too.

Tasting notes: The nice thing about a Jersey Milk is its creamy simplicity. It’s not jumping out, demanding attention (which could be why it got discontinued), but simply says, “Here I am. A classic chocolate bar. That is six months past my best-before date. Eat me if you feel I’m worth risking diarrhea.”

Verdict: Jersey, you will be missed. (Also, I have two expired chocolate bars available to the highest bidder.)

2. Oh Henry

I didn’t know this, but Oh Henry originated in the States and is still sold there under the name Rally. (Personally, I think Oh Henry is a better name.) In terms of that name, there are numerous theories about its origins, but all you need to know is that Oh Henry’s true claim to fame is its fudge tube rolled in caramel and nuts.

Tasting notes: In the world of chocolate bars, Oh Henry has a lot going for it. There’s a good mixture of salt to sweet, a nice balance of crunchy peanuts to creamy caramel, and it didn’t disappoint. I felt like I got a lot of mouth experience for my money.

Verdict: Oh yeah.

1. Wunderbar

Not to be confused with Wonderbra, Wunderbar launched in Canada and Germany in 1976. A combination of caramel and peanut butter, Wunderbar was also the name of a queer bar in Syracuse, New York. Somehow, it feels like my life has come full circle.

Tasting notes: Wunderbar packs the best of both worlds. You get salty peanut butter wrapped in sweet caramel wrapped in chocolate. There’s also some crunch to contrast the creaminess. I felt like I went to an all-inclusive resort and sampled everything on the buffet.

Verdict: Wunderful

And there you have it! Do you agree with my rankings? Did I leave out your favourite Canadian chocolate bar? Leave a comment and let the country know.

Speaking of discontinued chocolate bars, let’s take a moment to remember the Sweet Marie chocolate bar. She was put out to pasture in 2013, but her legacy lives on. I found this recipe for Sweet Marie Bars in my collection of community cookbooks. And before you ask, no, that’s not my penmanship on the page. I only wish I wrote that neatly.

These bars are delicious. Obviously, Mrs. Doris Todd knew her way around a kitchen. As to whether they taste like a Sweet Marie bar, I have no idea. I can’t remember what I ate yesterday, let alone a chocolate bar that disappeared 12 years ago. I did roast my nuts, though, and added a sprinkling of sea salt. I think Doris would approve.

Thanks for reading! Get out there and grab those Canadian chocolate bars while you can.

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Best and Worst Store-Bought Coleslaw

First introduced in North America as “koolsla” by Dutch settlers in the 1700s, coleslaw has become a staple summer food, alongside potato salad, Vampire ice cream bars and charred wieners. Personally, I love coleslaw year-round, but it just hits different when it’s 35 degrees and I’m wearing my Daisy Dukes and doused in Raid.

Making your own coleslaw is a pain in the butt (more on that later), so I set out to determine the best and worst commercial varieties.

I bought 7 creamy brands, ranging from store-bought to fast food chain, and evaluated each on taste, texture and freshness. I excluded any oil-and-vinegar varieties since that’s like comparing apples to cabbages. I wanted a coleslaw that provided a bit of heat, had a nice crunch and wasn’t too dry or too drippy. I also added a homemade version to the mix. Specifically, Dolly Parton’s coleslaw recipe, and brought it to a family picnic for their reaction.

So, which coleslaw creamed the competition? And which did I tell to, “Get back to the cabbage patch, kid!” Read on to find out!

1) Reser’s, $4.78

I consistently see Reser’s side salads in grocery stores. Their macaroni salad reigned supreme in my taste test a couple of years ago. But just because you’re good at one thing doesn’t mean you’re good at another.

Tasting notes: Can we talk about green coleslaw? I’ve never seen a cabbage this uniformly green, so why force it? In terms of taste, Reser’s was okay. The vinegar really came through. But the creamy texture left a film in my mouth. All in all, Reser’s was serviceable but didn’t spin the wheels of my roller-skates.

Verdict: Didn’t Reser to the occasion.

2) Compliments, $4.69

I got this at Sobey’s. Generally, I don’t have high hopes for house-brand products, although Compliments recently kicked butt in my cottage cheese taste test. So, I approached this slaw as I do when I go shopping at Costco: Hope for the best, expect the worst.

Tasting notes: Speaking of green coleslaw, this one was very pale, almost mint coloured. Overall, there was too much liquid which made it a swampy experience. There wasn’t a lot of flavour either. Compliments left me cold, and not in a good way.

Verdict: A good bathroom wall colour, not a good coleslaw.

3) Popeyes $3.29 (regular size)

I went through an intense Popeyes phase in the early stages of the Covid lockdown. I was like, “Well, the world is ending, so I might as well eat Popeyes every night.” This attitude also explains why my track pants started looking more like tights.

Tasting notes: From pale green to pale yellow! The cabbage pieces had very distinct, diamond shapes, and were a bit too uniform to deliver the mouth excitement I wanted. Popeyes was the creamiest of the bunch, but it was too mild and sweet. Maybe it’s meant to cool you down after a spicy chicken sandwich.

Verdict: Love that coleslaw from Popeye’s (not).

4) Ziggy’s, $3.00

If you’re a child of the 1970s (as I am), the name Ziggy will always be associated with a strange-looking bald cartoon character whose appeal I never understood. Maybe he was Charlie Brown’s father?

Tasting notes: Here we go again with that neon green! Ziggy’s was so bright I had to wear sunglasses while tasting it. It had the most zing in terms of heat, but my main issue was the texture. The cabbage was too finely ground. It was like eating sweet green sawdust. And yes, I’ve eaten sweet green sawdust before, but that’s a whole other taste test.

Verdict: Get back to the cabbage patch, kid.

5) Selection $4.99

Finally! A coleslaw that wasn’t trying to hide behind a green dye! Selection is Sobey’s house brand, so I kept my expectations in check.

Tasting notes: This was the most attractive coleslaw of the lot. The cabbage was shredded in long slivers and mixed with mustard seeds. (I’m assuming that’s what they were, otherwise, I ate gnats.) Compliments had a distinct flavour. Those mustard seeds/gnats really came through. It also had a nice heat that hit the back of my throat. I could see Selection being polarizing among coleslaw lovers, but sometimes, a slaw has to stand on its own.

Verdict: Gnat too bad.

6) KFC, $3.66 (small size)

This was the smallest container of slaw. In fairness, I ordered a small. But I expect my smalls to look like mediums, you know? I had assumed this would be the same green coleslaw that I grew up eating but was surprised to see that it looked completely different. Had the Colonel turned a coleslaw corner?

Tasting notes: There were some substantial carrot chunks, a good crunch and a nice sweet/tangy vibe. I was pleasantly surprised. This was a much better version than the one I had been expecting.

Verdict: The colonel came through.

7) Massibec, $5.96

I found this brand at Walmart. Massibec is out of Quebec and the packaging said they use a variety of cabbages, grown directly in their fields. This was also the biggest container. Massibec is kind of a weird name, though. Maybe something got lost in translation.

Tasting notes: The cabbage pieces were less uniform, which gave it a more homemade texture. And those homegrown cabbages really came through. Massibec tasted the freshest, had the best crunch, and carried a nice heat throughout.

Verdict: Massibec is mighty good.

And the winner is…

I picked Massibec given its freshness and flavour, with honourable mention to Selection for showing some sass and KFC for being better than I thought it would be. In terms of the worst, I’m awarding that to Ziggy’s. The flavour was okay, but I couldn’t move past the mush.

Recently, I learned that Dolly Parton’s coleslaw recipe is tearing up the internet, so I brought it to a family picnic. Dolly’s version has dill pickles, sweet pickle juice and a sprinkling of Steel Magnolias. (Okay, I made that last ingredient up.) In making it, I realize why I never make coleslaw. It was so messy. There were slivers of cabbage everywhere. Two weeks later and I’m still picking pieces out of my hair.

But Dolly’s was delicious. Everyone thought it tasted great, except for Cousin Jolene. But she’s always had an issue with Dolly for reasons that remain a mystery to me. The only problem – it got all watery by the end of the day. But I thought of a new invention: colesloup.

If you want to make Dolly’s coleslaw – and I think you should – you can find the recipe here.

Thanks for reading. If you’re at the No Frills this summer and smell the overwhelming scent of Raid, it means I’m close by and likely in the chips aisle. Don’t be shy about saying hello.

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Best and Worst Cottage Cheese

Cottage cheese had a bad rap when I was growing up in the ‘80s. It was considered a diet food, along with melba toast, TaB and Lean Cuisine Four Cheese Cannelloni. But cottage cheese is making a comeback, at least on the app named after that Ke$ha song. Now people are making bagels with cottage cheese! Looks like the ol’ double C is no longer just about leg-warmers and leotards.

But can cottage cheese stand on its own merits? Will it always be the yawn-inducing third cousin of more dynamic cheeses, like Gouda, Pecorino and Cheez Whiz? And which brand is best?

I tasted 8 brands, ranging from $3.48 to $9.99. I only bought the 2% variety and pulled my aerobics sweatband over my eyes to avoid bias. And, in keeping with the ‘80s, this post has a neon colour theme. My apologies in advance for any eye damage this causes.

In terms of my evaluation, I looked for the right mixture of solids to liquid, a balance of salt to sweet, and well-defined curds. And I convinced my husband to help me out. He’s not usually a willing participant in my taste tests unless it’s panettone.

Which cottage cheese made its “whey” to the top – and which brand laid a big fat curd? Read on to find out!

1) Great Value $4.18

Walmart’s house brand has performed relatively well in previous taste tests. (See my Boxed Macaroni and Cheese post.) In terms of packaging, I appreciated how the red of the tomato slice and serviette is carried throughout. In home décor circles, this is called a “theme.”

Tasting notes: Neither of us had much to say. “It has a slight tang,” my husband said. “The curds are creamy, but they’re a bit soft.” I thought it was okay, but not worth the hell of a trip to Wal-Mart on a Saturday afternoon.

Verdict: Value, yes. Great, no.

2) Organic Meadow, $9.99

I’m all for organic food, but spending 10 bucks on cottage cheese seems a bit excessive. I liked the cow on the carton, and the artfully placed daisies, that reminded me I was eating something inspired by nature. Even if the ingredients list included Xanthan Gum. And Carbon Dioxide.

Tasting notes: “Not a lot of taste,” my husband said. “But there’s a nice texture and it’s mild. Then again, all cottage cheese is mild.” I found it too liquid-y and the curds dissolved too quickly. It wasn’t that you chewed them so much as slapped them around in your mouth. I also found it on the sweet side.

Verdict: Organic, not orgasmic

3) Compliments, $5.29

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. I don’t know why I always include it in my taste tests. It’s not terrible but always lacklustre. Yet I keep holding out hope. I’m assuming the dot pattern on the carton is meant to resemble cottage cheese curds. Only the curds are red. This colour technique is known as “blood curdling.”

Tasting notes: “The curds are bigger in this one,” my husband said, but he found it had less taste, despite a slight tang. I, on the other hand, was a fan. I thought there was a lot of curd action. And nothing beats a good, firm curd. I also liked the sour taste, it was almost like buttermilk.

Verdict: Good Lord, Compliments might have a shot!

4) Nordica, $3.48

Nordica is the most cottage cheese-y sounding brand name. It makes me think of Vikings sitting around in leg warmers, eating cottage cheese and saying they need to lose 10 pounds by fur skin bikini season.

Tasting notes: This one got approval from my husband. “It’s thicker and has a sweetness. There’s more flavour.” But I found it too creamy and lacking curds. It all combined into one, pasty uniform texture. The flavour was okay, but there wasn’t enough variance to keep me interested.

Verdict: Like most married couples, we seldom agree.

5) Neilson, $5.59

I get nostalgic about Neilson products. (And it’s not solely based on that medieval logo font.) It’s the dairy brand I most associate with my childhood. I’m old enough to remember when the milkman did home deliveries. Which explains why my mom always answered the door in a nightie. (If my mom were still alive, she’d say, “For God’s sakes, Brian! Don’t joke about something like that. Take it off the internet!”)

Tasting notes: “The texture is different with this one,” my husband said. “The curds feel smoother, almost slippery. Pearly, like they have a slick coating.” I loved this one. It gave me lots to chew on and a mouthful of defined, firm curds that weren’t afraid to stand on their own and say, “Here I am, world.”

Verdict: Worth putting my nightie on for.

6) No Name, $4.29

I had a high school teacher who said he once put No Name ketchup in a Heinz bottle to fool his kids. When they didn’t notice the difference, he told them the truth. Most kids don’t recover from that kind of betrayal. I didn’t have high hopes for this one, but No Name products have surprised me before. (See my Salsa Taste Test.)

Tasting notes: “Ew,” my husband said. “No, wait. It’s not that it’s bad. The tang caught me off guard. The texture is okay. Overall, it’s unremarkable.” I found the No Name brand too sweet and almost had a vanilla ice cream vibe to it. And it was lacking texture. Cue the sad trombone.

Verdict: No name, no win.

7) MC Dairy, $7.99

I’ve never had pressed cottage cheese, so I added it as a curve ball. It had the shortest ingredient list – just pasteurized skim milk and bacterial culture. In terms of the packaging, I learned that Twaróg is a name for Polish farmer’s cheese. You see how educational these posts are?

Tasting notes: “Un unh,” my husband said as soon as he took a bite. “This is cardboard. It tastes like nothing. What would you do with this? Batter and fry it? You definitely have to jeuje it up. (The gays want to jeuje everything.) I agreed. It was like eating a Mr. Clean Magic Eraser. It needs to be mixed with something else. What that is, I have no idea.

Verdict: We were pressed for anything positive to say.

8) PC Lactose Free, $4.49

I bought this brand to support all the lactose-free folks out there. President’s Choice products are generally okay. I was surprised I didn’t find a PC brand of regular cottage cheese which would no doubt be called “World’s Best Cottage Cheese.” Like that would actually exist.

Tasting notes: “This one is definitely sweeter,” my husband said. “It’s thicker.” Then he sighed and shrugged. “I mean, it’s cottage cheese for God’s sake. How much variety is there going to be? I don’t have anything more to say. It’s not blowing my mind. It’s cottage cheese.” At this point, I could feel the tension in the room getting thicker than a block of pressed cottage cheese, so I thought I’d better wrap the taste test up. I also found this brand too sweet.

Verdict: PC Lactose Free was lacking.

And the winner is….

My husband ultimately settled on Nordica in terms of flavour. For me, it came down to Neilson and Compliments. After some back and forth, I selected Compliments! Suffice to say, it’s going to be a joyous day at your local Sobey’s. Compliments, I will never frown upon your cottage cheese. Although I’ll continue to frown upon your butter tarts. And a special nod to Neilson for standing out, which, in the world of cottage cheese, is saying a lot.

For our worst, it was the pressed version. But it never really belonged there in the first place, like me in high school Phys Ed class. So, we both picked No Name as the bottom of the cheese barrel.

In keeping with the cottage cheese trend, I made cottage cheese bagels which I saw online. You take flour, baking powder, pureed cottage cheese, and mix it all together.

These were a nightmare to make! The dough was so sticky. It got everywhere and the clean-up took forever. All that for four bagels! Which don’t look or taste like bagels. I won’t be making these again.

Did I miss your favourite brand? Are you a “4% or nothing” person? Do you have suggestions for what I can do with the brick of pressed cottage cheese sitting in my fridge? Leave a comment. In the meantime, I’ll be hanging out with the Nordica Vikings, drinking TaB.

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Anti-Valentine's Day Cookies

Ah, Valentines Day. A time for lovers, overpriced chocolate, and pulling arrows out of your butt. (Thanks, Cupid.)

And while we should all take the time to celebrate love, in whatever form it takes in our lives, I think it’s okay to acknowledge that, sometimes, love bites.

Speaking of bites, I made these Anti-Valentine’s Day cookies. I hope you enjoy them - and that you’re never on the receiving end of one.

Best and Worst Potato Chips

I’ve never met a potato chip I didn’t like. For me, chips count as one of the four food groups, alongside chocolate, Carnation Sweetened Condensed Milk, and macaroni salad. But once you strip away the salt & vinegar, the ridges, and the Lipton Onion Soup Mix dip, can a plain potato chip stand on its own merits? And which brand is best?

I asked my friend, Scott, to help me taste test 11 different brands of plain potato chips. As a wine-loving Libran, Scott is very opinionated about numerous things, including the “Below Deck” reality TV franchise, horror movies, and Olivia Newton-John. As a fellow chip lover, I also learned Scott puts potato chips in his peanut butter and jam sandwiches. (As a kid, I used to toss a few into my baloney sandwiches.) It just goes to show, a taste test is always an opportunity to find out something strange about your friends.

Prior to our tasting, we established some ground rules. Nothing flavoured or “kettle-cooked,” nothing rippled or low-salt, and neither of us knew which brand we were tasting.

Which chip champed and which was a sp-dud? Read on to find out!

1) Great Value $1.35

Great Value is a Wal-Mart brand. Coming in as the cheapest in our taste test, I can confirm the value was great. But value is one thing; taste is another. How did these chips stack up?

Tasting notes: Scott was impressed by the size of his chip. “It’s tongue-sized,” he said. “It has good texture, and it’s nicely salted. I give this one a hard 7 out of 10. And yes, I’d eat a bag of these.” My chip had a square hole in the middle and dark circles. Based on looks, I was ready to say, “Later, tater.” But I found my chip light and crispy and, while it didn’t make my (potato) eyes roll back, the chip did what it needed to do.

Verdict: Great value, not bad taste.

2) Humble $4.99

The only organic brand we sampled, Humble is a family-owned Canadian brand out of Guelph, Ontario. I thought the coral-coloured bag set it apart from the sea of yellow chip bags on the shelves. But I’m not here for the bag; I’m here for the contents.

Tasting notes: “This chip has an air bubble,” Scott said. “And I’m not a fan of air bubbles in my chips. Does that make me precious?” (The answer is yes.) “I can feel my face frowning as I eat this,” he continued. “The crispiness peaked as it entered my mouth and descended as I ate it. I wouldn’t kick it out of bed after a night of drinking, but it didn’t have the follow-through crispiness I crave.” I found my chip to be more delicate and flakier, rather than crispy, and those are a pair of adjectives I don’t want in my chips. I need more heft and girth.

Verdict: No bragging rights here.

3) Taylors, $3.99

If there’s one thing the British know, it’s chips. Or, as they call them, crisps. I enjoy saying the word “crisps,” especially if you can squeeze in as many s’s as possible. I liked the blue colour of the bag. It reminded me of the seaside, which felt appropriate. Would this UK brand get the OK from us?

Tasting notes: Scott thought his chip had a nice shape. “It’s like a fabulous hat,” he said. As soon as he bit down, he said, “Mmm. Very crisp, not a lot of salt, but I don’t mind that because it’s really thick without overwhelming me. If flavour were inches, I’d give this a 9.” High praise indeed! I found my chip looked a little suspect, like it was made from potato flakes and not an actual potato slice. It was just a little too smooth, you know? But dang if that chip didn’t have crunch.

Verdict: Worth crossing the pond.

4) Selection, $1.49

Coming in almost as cheap as the Wal-Mart brand, Selection is Metro’s house brand. The bag announced, “Same Great Taste,” but I felt the last half of that sentence was missing. Same great taste as what? Pork n’ beans? Ice cream? Chaulk?

Tasting notes: “She’s not the prettiest,” Scott said when I placed the chip on his plate. “It’s got an oily complexion.” (In other words, me at 15.) He found the taste okay, “But it’s like I have to put the whole chip in my mouth to get the full flavour. This isn’t a nibbling chip.” That said, Scott thought it would make a good addition to his PB and jam sandwiches. I thought my chip had a buttery colour and a good wave. It had a nice, clean finish with no lingering oil taste and a crispiness that lasted throughout the mastication.

Verdict: Same great taste…but we still don’t know as what.

5) No Name, $1.39

I’ve had some mixed success with No Name products over the years. On the one hand, they can be…not bad. And, at other times, it’s not worth saving the 30 cents by going with the inferior cousin of the name brand original.

Tasting notes: “I’m seeing air pockets again,” precious Scott said. “It’s crispy enough with a nice balance of salt, but it’s kind of underwhelming. It feels like I didn’t eat anything.” I liked the size and waviness of my chip. But I found mine too salty and thin. It evaporated in my mouth. If I’m going to eat the calories, I want to feel like it was worth them.

Verdict: No name, no love.

6) Hardbite, $3.99

Another Canadian contender, Hardbite hails from the West Coast. The chips are cooked in small batches. Random fact: In the early ‘90s, I developed the nickname “Hardbite.” Which explains why I didn’t get many dates. Would Scott and I go hard for these chips?

Tasting notes: Scott laughed when I set the tiny chip in front of him. “I’m trying not to be judgmental,” he said. He felt the chip was super crispy and had a Miss Vickie’s vibe. “They’re pretty oily, although I ate this one a lot faster than the others.” I appreciated the nice ripple in my chip. In terms of taste, it immediately brought back memories of the Canadian National Exhibition but not in a good way. All I could taste was the oil. The only way I’d enjoy these is hot, and spiraled around a stick, as I walked around with a giant stuffed animal under my arm.

Verdict: Hard done by.

7) San Carlo, $5.59

These were the most expensive chips in our taste test, which isn’t surprising, since I bought them at Eataly. Italy isn’t the first place that comes to mind when I think of potato chips. According to the bag illustration, Italians eat these chips while riding around on scooters.

Tasting notes: “Are potato chip air pockets more common than I thought?” Scott asked, holding up his chip. “I guess I’ve been too preoccupied with shoving them into my mouth to notice.” He looked very quizzical while he ate his chip. “There’s a mushroom flavour I can’t get past,” he said. Similar to Taylors, I found my chip had a fabricated vibe. The taste was clean and the chip had a nice thickness, but I had my doubts as to whether this was an actual slice of potato or not.

Verdict: Get on your scooter and drive away.

8) Lay’s $2.19 (small bag)

Lay’s is the brand most associated with chips. But is that for good reason? Speaking of things that have been around forever, anyone remember this joke? What did the potato chip say to the battery? “If you’re Eveready, I’m Frito-Lay.” (Sorry, it was much funnier in the fourth grade.)

Tasting notes: “A little oily,” Scott said. “But not in a bad way. There’s good salt. They’re subtle, but sometimes, subtle is a good thing.” Given Scott’s focus on air bubbles, I noted 4 in mine, but I wasn’t bothered. Overall, I found this chip to be perfectly salted, crispy, and light. I found myself licking my lips afterwards. Which, as a middle-aged homosexual, is never a good look.

Verdict: That was a good lay.

9) Festligt, $3.49

I picked these up at Ikea, a place that might come to mind for picture frames, meatballs, and long check-out line-ups that make you want to abandon your cart. But not potato chips. And the colour of the bag was giving me serious red flags. Or was that salmon flags?

Tasting notes: Scott seemed very pensive about his chip. “It looks oily without even tasting it,” he said. After he chomped down, he had this to say: “I’m trying to determine what it tastes like. It doesn’t taste like a potato chip. There’s a cross breeding of oils. I wouldn’t go back for seconds.” I thought my chip had a lunar texture. It was bumpy and had a nice waviness. It looked like a good chip. Then I tasted it. Like Hardbite, the oil taste overwhelmed. I just couldn’t move past it. Or slide past it.

Verdict: Stick to the meatballs.

10) Compliments $2.49

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. It struck me how this was the fifth yellow bag in our taste test. I wondered if these house brands intentionally go with yellow bags to fool customers into thinking they’re buying Lay’s.

Tasting notes: “Oh, hello lover,” Scott said as I placed a sizeable chip in front of him. “This has a lovely crispness,” he said. “The salt is subtle, but I like that. There’s almost a smoky quality.” My chip was heart-shaped, which I took as a good sign. Overall, I thought it had a good balance of salt and crispiness. Not the best, but not bad either.

Verdict: Our compliments to the chef.

11) Old Dutch $2.19 (small bag)

Old Dutch is a brand that confuses me. On the one hand, they make potato chips. On the other hand, they make cleaning products. Are they the same company? Can an elderly Nederlander shed any insight into this?

Tasting notes: Scott thought his chip seemed a little on the burnt side. “I’ll try not to hold that against it,” he said. He appreciated its smoothness and there were no discernable air bubbles. “It has the texture of a Pringles but doesn’t taste like a Pringles. I could eat a lot of these.” My chip was visually underwhelming and smelled a bit stale. But there was a good snap to it and, overall, this chip was in the running.

Verdict: These chips had us clicking our clogs.

And the chip champ is...

The chips were down when it came time to declare a winner! And it wasn’t unanimous. Scott’s pick was Taylors and mine was a toss-up between Old Dutch and Lay’s, with the eventual winner being Lay’s. I guess I’m a traditionalist at heart. In terms of the worst, I’m giving Hardbite a hard pass on account of the oily taste. And Scott is only shopping for picture frames at Ikea, and saying “hej då” to their chips.

A special thanks to Scott for being such a tater-tastic tester. Check out his horror-obsessed alter ego, Scarlet O’Scara, at rabbitinred.com as well as via his Instagram account. In honour of his favourite sandwich, I made a PB and jam sandwich with potato chips. My verdict? I’ll stick to bologna.

Did we miss your favourite brand of chips? Do you disagree with our thoughts? Leave a comment and let the world know.

Best and Worst Pandoro

Back in 2021, I did a panettone taste test with my Italian mother-in-law. It continues to be one of my most popular posts. Clearly, the world needs this kind of in-depth journalism. So, I convinced her to join me in another taste test to determine the best and worst pandoro.

Another Italian holiday tradition, pandoro translates to “bread of gold in the shape of an 8-sided bucket.” I consider pandoro as the lesser-known sister to the panettone. You’ll find more options for panettoni than pandori in stores, especially in Canada. But why? Pandoro is more attractive (panettone looks like a brown footstool), there’s no citrus peel, and, before serving it, you shake pandoro in a plastic bag with cocaine icing sugar. I had to wonder – is it time for pandoro to take centre stage?

I bought 9 brands, ranging from 12 to 30 dollars. I also made my own, which meant getting up at 4 a.m. to start the day-long process. Italians like to claim their food is simple, but I beg to differ.

In addition to my mother-in-law, I asked her sister, affectionately known as Zia P, to join us. How would these nonnas rank the pandori? My husband also joined. Funny how he’s only interested in my taste tests when they involve Italian food. No one knew which brand they were tasting to keep our rankings objective.

Which pandoro won gold and which got panned? And would this trio sniff out the one made by a mangiacake? Read on for our results!

1) Bauli, $14.95

The only round box contender, I picked up Bauli at No Frills. While the colour sets it apart, I’m not sure lavender is putting the holiday jingle in my bells. That said, it’s a square box world and sometimes, you need to find a way a-round the competition. (Sorry.)

Bauli high-definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “You can taste the butter too much,” my mother-in-law said. (I don’t know how this is bad. Is there such a thing as too much butter taste?) My husband also found it buttery, but that was a plus for him. Zia P thought it had a good aroma but was too sweet. I thought it was a bit bland.

Verdict: You’re either a Bauli butter person or not.

2) Chiostro di Saronno, $30

This was the most expensive pandoro we sampled. I bought it at a speciality shop crammed with every panettone you can imagine. And it came in the biggest box. But, as we all know, size doesn’t matter; it’s what’s inside that counts.

Chiostro di Saronno high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: “I would buy this,” my mother-in-law said. She felt it had good texture and wasn’t too sweet. (The Italians, I’ve learned over the years, don’t like anything too sweet. One day, I’ll tell you about the time I showed up for my mother-in-law’s birthday with a buttercream frosted cake.) Zia P and my husband also gave it the thumbs up. I thought Chiostro delivered good, all-around flavour but not 30 bucks worth.

Verdict: We like big box and we can’t deny.

3) Longo’s, $12.97

An Italian supermarket, Longo’s brand name products have had mixed results in my taste tests over the years. I found their pandoro packaging a little uninspiring. Not to mention the text was printed crooked. Or maybe my head was tilted. Anyway, did Longo’s come up short?

Longo’s high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: Both Zia P and my husband said this was soft, flavourful, and had a nice aroma. My mother-in-law said it didn’t leave an after-taste and thought it was nice. I thought it was a bit sweet, but overall, not bad.

Verdict: Crooked or not, Longo’s is straight in the running.

4) Festa $11.99

I got this brand at Metro. The packaging seemed a bit weird. Is it me or do you also see a glass of beer? I also kept calling it Fiesta. Clearly, I drink too much and can’t read.

Festa high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: The sisters agreed: This pandoro was too sweet for their liking. That said, it also scored points for its buttery taste. I found it a bit dry and had slightly bitter notes, almost like it was slightly burnt. It left me wanting a beer to wash it down. 

Verdict: Festa wasn’t the besta.

5) Tre Marie, $19.99

Coming in as the second most expensive pandoro, the Tre Marie brand seems to be fairly respected by Italians. My husband said this was the brand his family usually bought. Were the Three Marys a triple threat?

Tre Marie high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: My mother-in-law thought this one wasn’t bad. “It’s very moist,” she said. But she found it on the sweet side. My husband thought it was light. I didn’t find it all that memorable. Zia P didn’t have much to say. (I think, by this point, she was wondering how she got involved in this taste test.)

Verdict: Tre’s a crowd.

6) GiGi, $14.69

I got this pandoro at a local specialty shop. I thought the packaging was festive and I could see keeping the box to make a holiday lantern. (More on that later.) GiGi also boasted non-GMO ingredients, which was a plus. Would GiGi go-go in this competition?

GiGi high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: Sadly, GiGi’s box was the one thing it had going for it. It didn’t win over the tasters. “Dryer taste,” my mother-in-law’s notes read. “Stale. (Not.)” Zia P didn’t like it either. Overall, GiGi was the driest of the bunch. Mind you, we still hadn’t tried mine at this point.

Photographic evidence of my mother-in-law’s tasting notes.

Verdict: We weren’t sad to see it GoneGone.

7) Gioia, $12.99

I got this brand at Metro, as well. The box tells you how to pronounce the name (“Joy-ah”). Clearly, their target market is non-Italians. There was also an illustrated character on the box riding a moped.

Maybe it’s Pan-Dora the Explorer?

Gioia high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: My mother-in-law said it had an aftertaste and wasn’t her favourite. My husband thought it was moist. Zia P said she liked it better than the last one, but, by this point in the taste test, I was having trouble remembering what the last one was. I have a feeling Zia P was, too.

Verdict: Not much joy in the Gioia.

8) Aurora $14.39

This brand was declared the winner by my mother-in-law and husband in our panettone test a few years back. Needless to say, the pandoro pressure was on. Would Aurora keep its crown?

Aurora high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: The sisters both noted an almond taste, but didn’t consider that a bad thing. But Aurora wasn’t anyone’s favourite. I thought my piece tasted slightly over-baked and had a chewiness that knocked a few points off for me.

Verdict: Not looking like a double win.

9) Granducale, $12

I picked this up at Wal-Mart. I had high hopes, since Granducale made it to the top two of our panettone taste test. And the fact that it’s at Wal-Mart means it’s widely available. Should you want to go to Wal-Mart. During the holiday season. You might really want to think about that.

Granducale high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: “I’d definitely buy it,” my mother-in-law said, adding there was no aftertaste. Zia P also had high praise. I thought it was a bit bland but, really, who’s paying attention to what the mangiacake says?

Photographic evidence of my mother-in-law’s tasting notes.

Verdict: Good luck at Wal-Mart.

10) Il Briano di Francisco

I found a YouTube video that looked like an authentic pandoro recipe. Having said that, it was in Italian. I also didn’t have time to source a pandoro mold. So, I found another YouTube video that showed how to make a mold from a foil baking pan.

Pandoro mold high definition exterior shot.

Let’s just say things didn’t go according to plan. My pandoro didn’t rise. The recipe called for fresh yeast, and I could only find dry. The pandoro came out 3 inches high and bore a strange resemble to an elephant foot. It weighed as much one, too. Here it is next to a regular pandoro for perspective.

David vs. Goliath. 

“It looks more like a pound-oro,” my husband said. The odds were against me, but maybe, just maybe, it tasted better than it looked.

Il Briano di Francisco high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: There was a moment of silence when I placed the slices in front of the three tasters. At first, I thought they were giving my pandoro thoughtful consideration, but then I realized they were laughing so hard, they couldn’t breathe. “No, no!” Zia P exclaimed after taking a bite. “That’s not right!” All of them said it was horribly dense and dry. “Even toasting this wouldn’t help,” my husband said. My mother-in-law also said it had an aftertaste. That aftertaste was defeat. At least it was somewhat edible, I reasoned. And I didn’t put buttercream on it.

Verdict: A pan-don’t-o.

And the winner is…

Zia P and my husband were aligned. And their top pick was my mother-in-law’s number two pick. The winning pandoro was Longo’s! No doubt the Prosecco will be flowing at the Longo family household tonight. My mother-in-law’s first pick was Granducale and my top pick was the Chiostro di Saronno. In terms of the worst, we all struggled to pick one. (Mine aside.) Unlike the panettone taste test, there wasn’t a clear loser. We ended up going with Gigi given it was a bit stale.

I think our challenge picking the worst speaks to the power of the pandoro. In fact, I’d say you have a better chance of finding a good pandoro than a panettone this holiday season. You don’t need to break the bank, either.

And don’t throw out that box! Check out the Christmas lantern I made. Legend has it that Saint Pandoro would carry his lantern through the streets of Italy on Christmas Eve. If you were a good child, you’d get a Raffaella Carra cassette tape. If you were bad, you’d get a jar of Ragu.

As for me, I’m pandoro pooped out. I’ll be relaxing in my Snuggie for the rest of the holiday season, listening to the Jingle Cats. And if anyone wants a doorstop in the shape of an elephant foot, make me an offer.

Did we miss your favourite brand? Are you Team Pandoro or Team Panettone? Leave a message in the comments!

All the best for the holidays. As they say in Italy, “Buono Natalie!”

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Best and Worst Store-Bought Chocolate Chip Cookies

When it comes to cookies, nothing beats the classic chocolate chip. (Although my heart will always belong to Pirate Oatmeal Peanut Butter Cookies.) And while they may seem simple, chocolate chip cookies are complicated. They require depth of flavour, the perfect crisp/chewy texture, and the right ratio of cookie to chips. While homemade is usually best (especially when they’re warm out of the oven), can you find a good store-bought version?

I sampled 12 brands, from vegan to traditional, and included contenders from Italy, Pakistan, and my current city, Toronto. I avoided any “soft-baked” varieties. (I’ve already ingested too much edible plastic in my life.) Prices ranged from 99 cents to $8.99.

So what cookie was champ? And which cookie crumbled? Here are my rankings, worst to best.

12) Breaktime, $1.79

Made by Dare, the packaging reminded me of the old-school boxed cookies I grew up eating. But when I saw “great for dunking” on the box, it was a red flag. If they’re telling you to dunk them, that can only mean the cookies are dry. And there’s nothing worse than a dry cookie.

Tasting notes: There was nary a chocolate chip in sight! And, much to my suspicion, these cookies were very, very hard. For Dare, a well-known cookie brand, I was disappointed. These were like the chocolate chip cookies you get on a plane that you eat only because you’re trapped in the air.

Verdict: I wouldn’t dare eat these again.

11) New Moon Kitchen $8.99

I picked up these vegan cookies at Farm Boy. The package proclaims, “Best in the Whole Wide World.” That’s a tall order in the world of chocolate chip cookies. These were organic and made with spelt flour. They were also made in Toronto.

Tasting notes: I wanted to like these more, but they tasted a bit stale. They didn’t have that crispiness I craved. That said, the oats were a nice addition and, if you’re a spelt person, it’s viable option.

Verdict: This moon wasn’t full.

10) Mulino Bianco Cuoricini, $5.59

I bought these at Eataly and had to ask my Italian husband how to pronounce the name. “Quar-a-cheenie” means little hearts. In my experience, Italians aren’t big on chocolate chip cookies. They prefer to eat biscotti and drink espresso while standing up in cafes and talking with their hands. Would these cookies leave me broken-hearted?

Tasting notes: The first heart-shaped cookie I took out was broken which seemed a bad omen. Overall, these cookies were okay, but I didn’t get the distinctiveness of the chocolate chips. It was like everything was too blended together.

Verdict: Non ti amo.

9) Chocolicious, $0.99

I’ve never understood why some companies insist on mashing words that don’t belong together. Case in point: Chocolicious. What does that even mean? These cookies were made in Pakistan and were darker, I’m assuming because of added cocoa.

Tasting notes: These cookies had a pronounced sandy texture. And they tasted suspiciously like Coco Puffs cereal. This wasn’t necessarily a bad thing, but I wasn’t cuckoo for them.

Verdict: Okayalicious

8)  Good Day Chunkies. $1.29

“Good Day Chunkies” sounds like the name of a bad ‘90s movie centering around an overweight adolescent who is sent away to diet camp but learns to love himself by forming a bond with a tough-talking lesbian camp counsellor named Bev. (I realize I took that a little further than was needed.)

Tasting notes: Similar to Chocolicious, I wasn’t a fan of the granular texture. And the cookies had that shortening aftertaste that coated my tongue. Good Day Chunkies were okay, but no two thumbs up.

Verdict: I’ll wait for the sequel.

7) Chips Ahoy!, $3.79

This brand usually comes to mind when I think of chocolate chip cookies. As the name suggests, they’re best eaten while you’re at sea, but you can eat them on land, as well.

Tasting notes: The cookies had noticeably more chocolate chips than most of the other brands. But when it came to flavour, this cookie sank. The overall note was sweet. There was also a bit of a chemical aftertaste. As my mother would say, “Looks aren’t everything, Brian. Especially in your case.”

Verdict: Toss it overboard.

6)  Go Go Quinoa, $3.49

These plant-based, non-GMO cookies were individually packaged. I have mixed feelings about quinoa in a chocolate chip cookie. Especially when the quinoa is taking up space that could go to more chocolate chips.

Tasting notes: The quinoa added a nutty flavour but I found the cookies dry with a cardboard aftertaste. That said, I’d sooner have a cardboard aftertaste and know I was eating something (relatively) healthy than something that tasted great but was manufactured by cookie scientists.

Verdict: Not exactly a go-go, but not a stop-stop either.

5) Allergy Smart, $5.99

As a child of the ‘70s, I can tell you that the only things kids were allergic to back then were homework, Brussel sprouts and shag carpeting. The list of what these cookies were free from was longer than the list of ingredients. Even mustard!

Tasting notes: The texture seemed a bit off, but not bad. Oats were the first ingredient and that flavour came through. Overall, these cookies had a nice, brown-sugary undertone. I’d buy them again and feel reassured they don’t contain any Brussel sprouts.

Verdict: One smart cookie.

4) Betty Crocker Mix, $3.99 plus butter and egg

Every school bake sale had a mom who said it was “homemade,” but it really came from a mix. My mom was that mom. I remember watching her squirm when someone asked for the recipe. I included these as my “homemade” recipe. But once you add the butter and egg, are you saving yourself that much time and effort?

Tasting notes: These looked the most homemade. I guess that’s because they were. Kind of. They were a nice mix of chewy and soft. But they were a little on the sweet side and I didn’t get a lot of flavour. Still, nothing beats a warm cookie.

Verdict: My mom would be proud.

3) Celebration, $2.99

If you’ve never had a Celebration Milk Chocolate Butter Cookie, please stop reading this immediately and go buy a box. They’re dangerously delicious. So, I had to wonder if the chocolate chip version would be worth celebrating.

Tasting notes: These cookies had their undersides coated in chocolate (a long-standing fantasy of mine but that’s for another taste test). I was certain this was going to give them a competitive edge. The cookies were on the small side, and too uniform, but that chocolate underbelly did everything it needed to do.

Verdict: Bottoms up!

2) Tate’s Bake Shop $6.99

The iconic green packaging sends a message that these are gourmet cookies (as if the price didn’t already say that). Tate’s Bake Shop is based out of the States and is known for their thin, crisp variety rather than a chunky cookie. Would thin be in?

Tasting notes: These kicked butt! The chocolate chip flavour shone through and there was a lingering, caramelly aftertaste. Crispy, buttery, heavenly.

Verdict: No hate for the Tate.

 1)  President’s Choice The Decadent, $3.49

If the PC brand got two things right, it was White Cheddar Macaroni and Cheese and The Decadent chocolate chip cookie. Since its introduction in 1988, The Decadent has been giving Chip’s Ahoy! (and every other brand) a run for its money.

Tasting notes: The strong chocolate flavour of the chips immediately came through. They’re the real star of the show. There was a slight coconut undertone, but I didn’t know if that helped or distracted from my overall enjoyment. But this was one cookie packed with flavour, chocolate chips, and swagger.

Verdict: Fit for a president.

While my winner may not be as shocking as my Jarred Salsa Taste Test winner, I still think it’s good to revisit the classics to make sure they’re still deserving of their reputation. In this case, The Decadent held its own. Chips Ahoy, not so much.

Did I miss your favourite brand of chocolate chip cookie? Sharing is caring so leave a comment.

Best and Worst Store-Bought Potato Salad

Summer means family picnics. Think of all those special moments, like playing lawn darts (“Jimmy, watch out for grandma’s eyes!”) or cleaning bird poop off picnic tables or wondering if that was a watermelon seed you just ate or a fly.

And let’s not forget about the food! In my family, you can always count on someone bringing a potato salad. (Or, as my mom called it, “pah-day-dah” salad.) Creamy and chunky, potato salad is the classic accompaniment to split hot dogs, charred hamburgers, and lukewarm beer. But if you’re short on time – and potatoes – can you find a good store-bought brand?

I brought seven brands of potato salad to a recent family picnic to determine the worst and best. I kept the brand names a secret. I also added in a homemade version from one of my community cookbooks but didn’t tell anyone.

I used every piece of Tupperware in my house for this taste test.

Which salad was a spud? And which was a dud? And did anyone lose an eye? Read on to find out!

1.  Longo’s $9.99

This only came in a large tub. I don’t like committing to something if I’m not sure it’ll be worth my time – and my waistline. In any case, the Longo’s brand looked gourmet, mainly because the skin was still on the potatoes. Which we all know is a gimmick because leaving the skin on doesn’t make you fancier; it just makes you lazier.

Tasting notes: While some of my family appreciated the crunchiness of the celery, and my niece found it “zesty,” the consensus was that this potato salad was longo on looks but shorto on flavour. “It’s missing something,” my nephew said. And I was missing $9.99 from my wallet.

Verdict: Drop this like a hot potato.

2.  Summer Fresh $11.49

And here I thought the Longo’s brand was expensive! Like its predecessor, Summer Fresh potatoes still had the skin. But it also had dill pickles. Would this addition give it a competitive edge? 

Tasting notes: Overall, feedback was positive with most of my family enjoying the pickle punchiness. Some also noted the texture of the potatoes which were nicely cooked. Still, my one sister didn’t care for it. “The taste is too sharp,” she said. In terms of flavour, I found there was a lot happening, but I enjoyed it even if I wasn’t always sure what was going on. Like an episode of The Young and the Restless.

Verdict: Dillicious

3. Reser’s $4.49

Reser’s faired well in my macaroni salad taste test a couple of years ago. So, my expectations were high. Would their potato salad pass muster(d)?

Tasting notes: My nephew said the taste was okay, but he wanted bigger potato chunks. My one sister thought it tasted too much like Miracle Whip. (How is that a problem, I wondered?) My niece thought the texture was too whipped. I thought it was a bit bland, but I felt like it knew it had a job to do and did it. In a half-assed kind of way.

Verdict: Stick to the macaroni.

4. Ziggy’s $5.99

This was the first brand that came to mind for my potato salad taste test. Not because Ziggy’s is the best. It’s just the brand I think of for deli stuff, like cheese, smoked kielbasa and neon green coleslaw.

Tasting notes: Ziggy’s tanked. Tasters found it too sweet, too mushy, and too whipped. The texture reminded me of that paste you made as a kid with flour and water for 3-D geographical maps. Even though I wasn’t supposed to, I always ate the paste. And then I got constipated. Because I had a paste mountain inside me.

Verdict: This little Ziggy needs to go back to market.

5. Homemade

I got this recipe from a 1986 cookbook from my hometown of Sarnia, Ontario. And if people know potato salad, it’s Sarnians. But I was a little confused by Vanessa’s recipe. It’s called Baked Potato Salad, but she didn’t say whether to bake the potatoes or not. (I boiled mine.) The recipe also said to mix the first four ingredients, but I only counted three. Then she’s missing the cheese and breadcrumbs in the instructions. Vanessa, if you’re reading this, can you please clarify?

Tasting notes: (Vanessa, you might want to skip over this part.) First, my nephew said it tasted like egg salad. Then my niece said she was put off by the colour. Then my one sister was critical of the uneven potato pieces (which were LOVINGLY CUT BY HAND). And for the final knife wound, my other sister said it tasted like fast food potato salad. THE IRONY. I think they all knew I made this salad and were just out to get me. Personally, I thought it tasted okay, but I could’ve done without the cheese.

Verdict: I sniffed a conspiracy. And a waft of eggs.

6. Selection $4.99

This is Metro’s house brand. I’ve pretty much lost all faith in house brands by this point in time, thanks to my previous taste tests. But even the smallest seed of faith is mightier than the biggest tater tot of doubt. (I’m going to copyright that.)

Tasting notes: While most of my tasters felt this salad fell flat – my nephew and sister deemed it the worst – my Miracle Whip-hating sister finally found her creamy spot. She loved this one because she thought it tasted the most like mayo. Others found the mayo overpowering. I thought it was too oniony.

Verdict: Only one Francis would be making this selection again.

7. Omy! $3.47

I got this brand at Walmart. I wasn’t sure if I’m supposed to pronounce it “Oh my!” As in, “Oh my, this potato salad is divine!” Or am I supposed to pronounce it as Amy only with an O? As in, “Omy, could you please pass the potato salad?”

Tasting notes: A piece of this potato salad slipped down my sister’s cleavage during the tasting. I think it was trying to escape judgment. Aside from that bit of excitement, Omy! was a spud dud. Tasters found it dry, too heavy on the Miracle Whip, and too mushy. I also found it too sweet.

Verdict: More like Ono!

8. Compliments $4.69

Here we go again with the store brands. Compliments is Sobey’s house brand, and to be honest, I haven’t given it too many compliments over the past few taste tests.

Tasting notes: My nephew liked the chunkiness of the potatoes, my sister felt it had too much of a mustard taste, my niece said it tasted like eggs and – surprise – my other sister said it had too much mayo. I thought it was okay. Not the best. Not the worst. Which is what my mother often said about me in terms of her children.

Verdict: The nicest compliment I can give is “not terrible.”

While there wasn’t a clear-cut winner, three of my family members picked Summer Fresh, so I’m going to declare it the potato salad champ. In terms of the worst, I have no other choice but to say it was mine. (I’m not letting Vanessa take the blame for this.) For store-bought brands, I’d steer clear of Omy!

I hope you enjoy a family picnic or two this summer – and that pah-day-dah salad is on the menu.

Best and Worst Store-Bought Butter Tarts

When it comes to Canadian icons, butter tarts are right up there with Casey and Finnegan. But for something so simple, butter tarts can go so wrong. Too sweet, too much crust, too gummy, the list goes on. And while your best bet is to purchase from a business that specializes in butter tarts, is it possible to find a decent butter tart at your grocery store?

I approached tart artisan (or is that “tartisan?”) Eric De Garie, owner of Eric’s Handcrafted Butter Tarts. His creations are considered among the best butter tarts in Toronto. When I asked Eric what’s at the heart of a good butter tart, he said the dough must submit to the filling. Meaning, the crust should never take centre stage.

Eric also said that quality butter tarts are made with maple syrup, agave or honey. Most, if not all, commercial butter tarts in Ontario are made with high fructose corn syrup, which Eric said is a no-no. Having said that, I grew up on corn syrup as a child of the seventies. In fact, my mother used to put a nipple on a bottle of BeeHive corn syrup to nurse me and I turned out just fine. Aside from the fact I needed dentures by kindergarten.

Eric kindly made time in his baking schedule to help me taste test seven commercial butter tarts. I kept the brand names a secret. I also made a batch of homemade butter tarts to ramp up the drama. How would Eric rank my version against the others? And would any butter tarts leave us bitter? Read on to find out!

1) The Worthy Crumb, $6.99 for 6

I got these at my local Rabba store, not the first place that comes to mind for buying quality baked goods, although you can usually find me there late on a Saturday night, buying ice cream and chocolate bars. For health reasons, of course.

Tasting notes: “This has a lot of dough and is low on filling,” Eric said. “It has a good gel and a nice glossiness, but that’s coming from the corn syrup.” I agreed the dough took over and there wasn’t much taste to the filling. It looked good but lacked personality. Something often said to me during my dating years.

Verdict: Not worthy.

2) Baxter’s, $7.99 for 6

I got these tarts at Longo’s. They looked homemade with their wavy, imperfect crust, but I also know robots are very clever these days.

Tasting notes: “Again, there’s too much crust,” Eric said. “That’s usually a sign of a cheap tart – they spend more on the crust and less on the filling.” I thought it had too much crust as well. The filling was runnier, too. Overall, I agreed. This was one cheap tart. Which was also often said to me during my dating years.

Verdict: Back to the kitchen, Baxter’s.

3) Farmer’s Market, $7.00 for 9

Farmer’s Market baked goods are usually hit or miss. Sure, they look good, but anything called “Farmer’s Market” while being sold under the fluorescent lights of a box store while White Snake’s “Is This Love?” plays from the overhead speakers screams of inauthenticity.

Tasting notes: “The filling is darker with this one,” Eric noted. But it was the same issue as before for him: too much dough. I thought the dough was a bit saltier so it was a nice contrast to the sweet filling. But that was about all it had going for it. And it was getting harder to distinguish the tarts from one another. We both started to wonder: What if all commercial butter tarts are produced at the same facility?

Verdict: It wasn’t love.

4) Fresh Market, $4.77 for 6

I got these at Walmart. They looked like a house brand, but I reminded myself to keep an open mind when buying Walmart brands. Their Great Value Mac and Cheese and chocolate Easter bunny fared surprisingly well in my other test tests.

Tasting notes: “This one has that ‘doughy-dough,’” Eric said. (Side note: Doughy-Dough was my nickname as an overweight adolescent.) But he felt the filling was more substantial. Did the raisins add a bit of liquid, he wondered? I didn’t like this one at all. It left an aftertaste in my mouth. It could’ve been the xylanase.

Verdict: Not so fresh.

5) Homemade

I found this recipe in my old-school, coil-bound United Church of Canada cookbook. If there’s one thing church women know, it’s how to make butter tarts. And percolated coffee. So how would my tarts stack up?

Tasting notes: “You can tell this one has a different filling,” Eric said. “It’s not bad, unless I’m getting used to the corn syrup. There’s a good ratio of crust to filling. No maple syrup, but the best so far.” I have to say, I was impressed. The crust was light and layered. And the filling had more depth of flavour, likely on account of the cream and butter.

Verdict: The only thing that would make this tart taste better is a cup of percolated coffee.

6) Grandmother’s Bake Shoppe, $5.99 for 8

I bought this brand at my local No Frills. The tarts were packaged in a box and individually wrapped, which was a nice bonus. They slide into a lunch bag, or pocket, more conveniently that way.

Tasting notes: “The dough is pale and barely cooked,” Eric said. “But I like the filling-to-dough ratio. This one is the tastiest so far.” (At this point, I started to sweat. Was Grandmother’s going to beat my tarts?) I thought these tarts had a nice crust on the top and felt the closest to homemade. It was a definite contender.

Verdict: Granny got me nervous.

7) Farm Boy, $6.99 for 6

These tarts look suspiciously like Baxter’s. How did I know they weren’t the same and slapping on a different label? At this point, I started to question everything I had believed about butter tarts.

Tasting notes: “The filling looks good,” Eric observed. Then he tasted it. “No,” he said with a clear shake of his head. “This is very bland and the crust is too thin.” I agreed the filling was bland. Eric was making me realize how many butter tarts are all about the sweet and very few about the actual flavour. It was one of those “dark night of the soul” revelations.

Verdict: Farm Boy, you got some growing up to do.

8) Compliments, $6.99 for 6

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. I haven’t had much success with the brand in the past. So I didn’t have high hopes.

Tasting notes: “This is not a favourite,” Eric said. “The filling’s not good. Not good at all.” I thought there was too much crust. There was also a distinct molasses flavour. I don’t want molasses in my butter tarts. It’s like when annoying relatives show up unexpectedly on your doorstep.

Verdict: There were no compliments to be had.

I left it to Eric to decide the winner and he chose my homemade tarts. Score one for the United Church! In terms of the commercial brands, we both picked Grandmother’s Bake Shoppe as the best. In terms of the worst, Eric picked Farm Boy and I picked Compliments.

Before I left, Eric graciously gave me a package of his butter tarts to try. I’m glad his tarts weren’t in the running because the others wouldn’t have stood a chance. Eric’s were butter tart heaven. The crust was crisp with a uniform thickness and the maple syrup flavour shone through in the filling.

Clearly, Eric knows what he’s doing. Find out more about his tarts, and where you can find them, by checking out his Instagram and Facebook accounts. Thank you, Eric! I’ll never look at a butter tart with ignorance again.

For anyone who’s interested, here’s the butter tart recipe from the United Church cookbook, as well as the recipe I used for the pastry.

Did I miss your favourite brand of butter tarts? Leave a comment and spread the word. Like buttah.

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