Brian Francis's Blog, page 2

Best and Worst Commercial 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 true butter tarts are made with maple syrup. Most, if not all, commercial butter tarts are made with 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.

Best and Worst Jarred Salsa

Some people like to dance salsa. Me, I like to eat salsa. I put it on Crispy Minis, in my scrambled eggs, and, of course, on tortilla chips. But I’ve never given much thought to different brands of salsa.

I wondered: Once you take away the sour cream, the tortilla chips, the guacamole, the Monterey Jack cheese, and the seven or eight Margheritas, is there much difference between salsa brands? What makes a good salsa, anyway? Is it the texture? The freshness? A label that shows a rendering of a house with a tile roof?

I set out to compare 12 jarred salsas. I wore a mask to avoid pre-judgement and evaluated each on texture and taste. I also only tested mild varieties because I’m middle-aged and consider a sprinkle of paprika as living on the edge.

Which salsa made me say “Olé!” and which salsa should dance away? Here are my rankings, worst to best.

12. Old El Paso, $3.99

Sure, this is one of the better-known salsa brands. And who hasn’t enjoyed a Taco Tuesday (or Wednesday or Thursday) courtesy of Old El Paso? But just because something is familiar doesn’t mean it’s worth your time. (Just like that ex of yours. You know the one I’m talking about.)

Tasting notes: This one was too vinegary and had a bit of a stink. It tasted more like chili sauce to me. Not that I have an issue with chili sauce, just not on my nachos. It was too sweet and made my nose tingle – not in a good way. Worst of all? It’s a big jar. Now I have a big jar of crap salsa.

Verdict: Take a Paso.

11. Pace, $5.97

Another popular brand. A quick internet search revealed that Pace is owned by Campbells. A soup-maker making salsa? That should’ve been my first warning.

Tasting notes: I didn’t like the texture of this one at all. It was too mushy, like it was made with overripe tomatoes. I have a theory that Campbells takes the tomatoes that aren’t useable for its tomato soup and turns them into Pace salsa. Worst of all? It’s a big jar. Now I have two big jars of crap salsa.

Verdict: When you see this on the shelf, keep walking at a brisk pace.

10. Herdez $3.99

This used to be my go-to salsa because it seemed the most authentic. But I had trouble finding it in grocery stores. (I eventually found this at Metro.) Herdez used to be widely available, but now I can only wonder if the shortage is for good reason.

Tasting notes: This one didn’t live up to my fond memories. It tasted like it had pickles in it. Or the onions were pickled. Or something was pickled. (Maybe it was me.) The texture was okay, although it was on the watery side. But there was a sourness I just couldn’t move past.

Verdict: Didn’t tickle my pickle.

9. PC Organics, $4.99

Look, I’m all for healthy choices (despite this taste test) but, at some point, organic products just don’t make sense. If I’m really that concerned about what I’m putting into my body, am I consuming copious amounts of salsa in the first place?

Tasting notes: This was too pungent for me. It had a dirty, bitter taste. This might be because they left the dirt on the tomatoes to make it more organic. I wasn’t a fan. I’m going back to my GMOs.

Verdict: Sometimes, it’s okay to be dirty. Sometimes, it’s not.

8. Neal Brothers, $6.99

I had high expectations for this brand because I see it everywhere and it’s more expensive than some of the other brands. But what do I really know about the Neal Brothers? On the back of the label, there’s an illustration of them on motorcycles. Clearly, they’re badasses. And the most dangerous kind: salsa-making badasses.

Tasting notes: This wasn’t chunky enough for me and had a weird taste, almost like a cold tomato soup. (At this point, I wondered if Campbells owned the Neal boys, as well). And, for seven dollars, the brothers should’ve delivered.

Verdict: The Neals need to keep it in the family. Their salsa, that is.

7. Pretty Ugly, $7.99

This was the most expensive brand in my taste test. I confess I was influenced by the name. In hindsight, I suppose I’ve paid more for uglier things. But, in my defense, suede vests with fringe were the height of fashion in the early 90s. Depending on who you ask.

Tasting notes: It was ugly all right. Just look at that watery puddle! Pretty Ugly was also pretty bland and didn’t have much flavour, although there was some kind of spice that didn’t agree with me. And no, it wasn’t paprika.

Verdict: Sometimes, looks aren’t deceiving.

6. Farm Boy, $4.99

I don’t know why I keep taste testing Farm Boy products. In truth, they’ve never been all that great. But I keep going up to bat for them. Maybe it’s because they have a swinging monkey in their produce section. I liked the jar as it looked like a mason jar and made it seem wholesome. You see what a sucker I am?

Tasting notes: This had a strong oregano taste. Which would be fine, except there was no oregano listed in the ingredients. The texture was a bit weird, kind of mushy and crunchy at the same time. I don’t think anything should be mushy and crunchy at the same time.  

Verdict: Don’t be swayed by the monkey.

5. Tostitos, $4.69

Best known for their tortilla chips, I think it was smart of Tostitos to break into the salsa game. But brands usually fall short when they try to extend their line. (Don’t get me started about McPizza.)

Tasting notes: There was a bitterness to this. And too much cumin. All in all, it was an okay salsa. But considering the source, Tostitos needs to dip in and do better.

Verdict: When the chips are down, the salsa might be, too. (I realize this doesn’t make any sense but cut me some slack.)

4. La Costena, $4.99

I see this brand around a lot, too. It seems to have a more authentic vibe to it, unlike some of the other commercial brands. But what do I know about authenticity? I used to colour my beard.

Tasting notes: This had some pleasant crunch to it, along with a bit of lingering heat. (In spite of it being labeled as “mild.” Clearly, they’re not going after the seniors’ market.) It was a bit sweet for my liking, but all in all, not a bad salsa.

Verdict: We’re getting warmer.

3.  Que Pasa, $4.99

I’m familiar with this brand on account of their paper bags of tortilla chips. (Speaking of which, I need to do a tortilla chip taste test.) In Spanish, “que pasa” means “what’s up?” So, what was up with this salsa?

Tasting notes: I thought this salsa was very flavourful and had complexity. It reminded me of myself in that it was very sophisticated, but also had a bit of tang that keeps people on their toes. Also, we both make great accompaniments for tortilla chips.

Verdict: Que pasa, you passed.

2.  Great Value, $3.77

Great Value is Wal-Mart’s house brand. As a rule, I don’t hold much value in economy brands. Having said that, Great Value held its own in my Macaroni and Cheese taste test as well as my Easter Bunny taste test.

Tasting notes: This had a nice texture and was the right balance between chunky and smooth. It also had a strong, bright flavour. I’m going to try it on my Great Value Mac and Cheese. (But not on my Great Value Easter Bunny.)

Verdict: Great Value, I was greatly impressed.

1. No Name, $3.79

Look, I know I’ve made jokes about No Name products before. That No Name is the sad trombone of the food world. That the yellow label signals only doom and despair. But I was about to have egg on my face – or is that heuvos rancheros?

Tasting notes: Out of all the salsas I sampled, this one had the best texture. It also had a subtle smokiness and a hint of sweet that added some depth. It was like a salsa symphony.  

Verdict: I’m still in shock.

And there you have it. Did I miss your favourite salsa? Leave a comment and let the world know! This kind of information is important.

After tasting 12 salsas, my tongue felt like a pickle. And this test really did a number on my stomach. Clearly, salsa isn’t meant to be eaten by the spoonful. Once I get past the cramping, I’m putting on my dancing shoes and my fringed suede vest, and signing up for dance lessons.

Gracias for reading.

Best and Worst Stinky Stickers

When I was growing up in the ‘80s, collecting stickers was frowned upon for boys. Collecting hockey cards? No problem! But for whatever stupid reasons, stickers were designated as a “girl” thing. Rather than risk teasing, I never indulged. But that didn’t stop me from pining for the stickers I saw girls trading at recess.

When a friend from public school, Melanie, recently sent me some retro scratch n’ sniff Stinky Stickers as a joke, it struck a nerve. It was time to reclaim my love of the stickers I’d been denied all those years ago.

But do scratch n’ sniff stickers actually smell like they’re supposed to smell? I ordered 12 scents (be warned – smelly stickers aren’t selling at retro prices) and asked Melanie and another friend from public school, Laura, to join me for a smell test.

Evidence of my sophisticated methodology.

I didn’t let either know what they were sniffing to better gauge if the sticker smell was accurate. (I also have a theory that we smell more with our eyes than our noses.) I realize closing your eyes and having someone shove something in your face and asking, “What does this smell like?” can be mildly stressful. But they were good sports.

Which stickers were smell-a-rific and which ones should stay in the ‘80s? Read on to find out.

1) Super Stuff! (spaghetti)

If you’re ever served meatballs at a restaurant and the meatballs are staring back at you, send them back to the kitchen. I had my doubts about this scent. What do spaghetti and meatballs smell like, anyway? Ground beef? Ragu? Kraft Parameeshun Cheese?

Smelling notes: “What the hell is this?” Laura asked. “Pizza?” (At least she was close.) “Is this licorice?” Melanie asked. She later explained she puts fennel in her tomato sauce. My Italian husband was present, and I could tell he was deeply disturbed. For me, the only thing missing was the smell of a side hamburger bun slathered in margarine and sprinkled with garlic powder.

2) Bewitching (licorice stick)

This sticker confused me. What does a witch have to do with licorice? Any witches I’ve sniffed over the years have smelled like eye of newt.

Smelling notes: “Is this root beer?” Melanie asked. We were two stickers in and already I started to worry about her nostrils. Laura guessed licorice right away, although she also smelled Pernod. Parents: If your kid is trading booze-scented stickers, I guarantee problems with them later in life.

3) Looking Good! (bubble-gum)

One Christmas, my sister gave me a gumball machine. I considered it a business venture. But whatever change I collected through the sale of my gumballs was later used to pay my dentist bill.

Smelling notes: Laura guessed grape, which technically is a flavour of gum, so she wasn’t completely off the mark. Melanie guessed cotton candy. I thought it smelled like Popeye’s Candy Cigarettes. The ‘80s were such a wholesome time for kids.

4) Poppin’ Good (popcorn)

Anyone remember when air poppers first came on the market? It was technology at its most fascinating. I would forgo the bowl and simply rest my head under the air popper, catching the popcorn as it slid down the chute.

Smelling notes: “Is this ham?” Melanie asked. At least she was consistently off the mark. Laura got popcorn right away. I thought this one was close. I got hints of butter, popcorn, oil, and even a whiff of the disdain of the teenager behind the concession stand.

5) Ham It Up! (ham)

My mom used to make simmered ham for Sunday dinners. Sometimes, if she was feeling Martha Stewart-like, she would jab cloves into the ham and bake it. I hated ham then and I hate ham now. Needless to say, this sticker was triggering.

Smelling notes: “This is meat,” Melanie said. “Is it ham?” Things were looking up for her! We all agreed this sticker hit the mark, although it was on the smokey side. It reminded me more of a forest fire than a cooked ham. Which is what you should do with ham: Burn it to the ground.

6) Snappy! (apple)

Snappy was a confusing word as a kid. It could be a compliment, as in, “That’s a snappy pantsuit you’re wearing, Brian.” Or it could put you in your place, as in, “Don't get snappy with me, young man. You finish that ham!”

Smelling notes: “This one smells like springtime,” Laura said. (Clearly, she had high sticker aspirations.) Melanie thought it had a perfume-y scent. “Like fabric softener.” I thought it had a fresh scent and smelled like every shampoo manufactured in the ‘80s.

6) Ole! (taco)

At first glance, this sticker appears to be a weird-looking kid with yellow hair, wearing Christmas coloured earmuffs. But it’s a taco; a smiling taco staring intently at something in the distance. I’m not sure which option is creepier.

Smelling notes: “This one’s tough,” Laura said. “I’m getting cumin. Is this fake bacon?” Melanie thought it was pepper. I didn’t know what I was smelling. Then I realized I'm not even sure what a real taco smells like. I blame Taco Bell.

8) Tear-ific! (onion)

If someone gave you this sticker as a kid, it sent a message that you should either bathe more or lay off the onion sandwiches at lunch.

Smelling notes: “This is the toughest one of all,” Laura said. “It smells exotic. Like frankincense. Or the three wise men.” (I didn’t ask how she knew what the three wise men smelled like.) Melanie took a long time. “Is it a hamburger?” I thought it smelled like B.O. Clearly, the sticker wasn’t tear-ific in terms of its scent.

9) Cool (root beer)

I loved A&W when I was a boy. You’d pull up in your car, the server would bring out a frosty glass of root beer that you’d end up spilling on the car seat and then your dad would say, “This is the LAST time we’re coming here!” Those really were special times.

Smelling notes: “Is this spearmint?” Laura asked. Obviously this sticker didn’t hit the mark for her. Melanie and I got root beer right away. The only thing missing for me was the sticky car seat.

10) Keep Rolling! (leather)

When I was a kid, I went to a roller-skating birthday party. I ended up falling and breaking my arm. This explains why I didn’t get invited to many birthday parties.

Smelling notes: “There’s something familiar,” Laura said. “Is it a baseball glove?” Melanie had other thoughts. “Is it cologne? Like that Axe stuff guys bathe in.” I was impressed at how close the leather scent was. Although the world doesn’t need to replicate the smell of previously worn roller skates.

11) Great! (cola)

I loved anything that smelled like cola when I was young. I had a cola-scented eraser that I’d inhale like it was Wite-Out. This could explain the blackouts I sometimes experienced as a child.

Smelling notes: “This one has a citrus note,” Laura said. “Kind of like creamy lemon.” Melanie and I both guessed cola. I kept sniffing the sticker until I blacked out.

12) Whoopee! (green lawn)

For the record, no kid ever exclaimed “whoopee!” when faced with the chore of mowing the lawn.

Smelling notes: “This smells vaguely vestigial,” Laura said. (She was always the smartest of the three of us. I had to ask her how to spell vestigial.) “Like the memory of cutting grass in the ‘80s. But I know this isn’t a grass sticker.” (Imagine Ms. Smartypants’ surprise when she opened her eyes.) “Is this pepper?” Melanie asked. I think she was holding out for at least one pepper-scented sticker. I smelled dirt.

In terms of the best, we all agreed ham smelled the most authentic with cola and root beer coming closely behind. For worst, Melanie picked popcorn. For Laura and me, it was onion. (Or the three wise men, depending which of us you ask.)

I’m all sniffed out, although it was therapeutic for me. I’m going to start a Facebook group for middle-aged homosexual men who enjoy roller-skating and collecting stickers in their spare time.

I hope you enjoyed this aromatic journey as much as we did. A reminder to always hold your oldest friendships close. I can’t think of two people I’d rather be smelling stickers with, all these years later.

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My "Vintage" Valentine's Day Cards

Few things in life are as horrifying as items from your childhood now passing as “vintage.” Case in point: these Valentine’s Day cards I received in Grade 5. The cards look like they’re from another century! Which, when I think about it, they are.

Okay, I’m not going to think about it.

Why did I save these cards? I have no idea. But they were taped in a scrapbook I kept at the time. Maybe it was a way of holding onto the feelings of love. Or maybe it was more about that one time of year when it was perfectly okay for other boys to ask me to be their valentine.

I thought I’d share these relics from the past because they’ll be of interest to future generations. “Look at that thing they called paper!” I can hear them gasping.

You’re a real “CUT-UP”

This squirrel valentine from Mark was initially addressed to “Brain” but it was corrected to Brian. Spelling a person’s name correctly is one of the most considerate things you can do. Thank you, Mrak.

For You

Every class had a future Martha Stewart. This handmade card from Laura, with its carefully cut construction paper heart, clearly demonstrated her artistic flair. This card is addressed to “Brain.”

I Think You are just DUCKY!

This duck-themed valentine was unsigned, leaving me to forever wonder who wanted me to be their sweetheart. Life is a mystery. Everyone must stand alone.

A Valentine HELLO

Just to clarify, I did not dress like this boy back in the day. Penny loafers and white ankle socks weren’t a hot look in the 80s. Thank you for saying I was nice to know, Julie. This card is addressed to “Brain.”

Just FOLLOW My LEAD

This heart-shaped card was the largest in the bunch. Clearly, Jamie was trying to impress me.

YOU SET MY HEART AFIRE!

Marjorie knew her intended audience well. I’m a sucker for a man in uniform, especially when he’s wielding an axe. Although his blade is an upside-down heart to minimize a potentially confusing message of violence.  

A VALENTINE HI

This card from Stacy has a poem on the back. “I’m an unemployed alligator / Who applied for a job as a waiter…/ But in spite of my style / And my warm, friendly smile / They said, ‘Sorry!…try again later!’” This poem confused me back then and it confuses me 43 years later.

IT’S SERIOUS VALENTINE

Justin knew his intended audience well. I’m a sucker for a man in uniform. Especially when he’s wearing white shoes and carrying a smart bag.

No Fishin’ Around

This card from Robbie is my favourite because the cat’s arm and tail actually move! See all the fun we had before batteries were invented? This card is addressed to “Brain.”

I’m out to steal…Your heart

Growing up, I was terrified of the Hambuglar. Not because he wore a mask and cape and lurked around preying on innocent people. I was afraid he was going to steal my hamburger. This card is addressed to “Brain.”

I’m Stuck on YOU, Valentine!

This card from Tracy is giving me Strawberry Shortcake vibes. Only instead of smelling like strawberries, it smells like the paste jar in the bottom corner.

Hi! how about it?

This valentine is the most confusing. Did Heather intend to cut it into the shape of a heart? Where’s the rest of the image? And how about what, I want to ask the flamingo? The back says, “I love you.” Heather was always direct.

I’m going to donate these to the Smithsonian for preserving. I hope you get lots of Valentine’s Day cards this year. And all of them spell your name correctly.

Sincerely,

Brain

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Best and Worst Cream of Mushroom Soup

When it comes to soups, none are as reviled as cream of mushroom. It’s not comforting like chicken noodle, not sophisticated like squash, and not hearty like vegetable. Let’s face it – cream of mushroom soup is the colour of despair, and those little bits of grey mushrooms are reminiscent of rotten teeth. When I was growing up, cream of mushroom wasn’t even considered a soup; it was glue for casseroles.

But have we judged cream of mushroom soup too harshly?

I taste tested 10 different brands, ranging from no name to organic. I evaluated each on colour, quantity of rotten teeth – sorry, I mean mushroom bits – and taste. I made the condensed versions with two-percent milk, not water, so as not to give the ready-made versions the winning edge.

Were any brands souper? (Sorry.) And were any shit(ake)? (Sorry, again.) Read on to find out!

1) Tim Hortons, $2.97

I don’t trust any place known for its coffee and chocolate glazed donuts to be a soup expert. But I went into this taste test with an open mind and open tastebuds. So, have I always got time for Tim Horton’s soup?

Tasting notes: This looked creamy and was the same colour as the hallway of my childhood home. There were no chunks of mushrooms, just speckles. In terms of taste, Tim’s was too thick and very bland. It would’ve been nice to have something else to add depth of flavour, like an herb. Or a Timbit.

Verdict: Ain’t nobody got time for that.

2) Pacific Foods, $4.39

This was one of two organic brands I tested. I’ve learned over the years that organic doesn’t always mean better. And really, if I’m eating cream of mushroom soup, am I a person who is concerned about GMOs?

Tasting notes: This made a distinct glopping noise as it slithered out of the can. We weren’t off to an appetizing start. In terms of colour, it reminded me of papier-mâché paste. There wasn’t much mushroom action. It was watery and had very little flavour, despite the onion and garlic powder listed on the label.

Verdict: Toss this one back into the ocean.

3) Aylmer, $0.97

Aylmer is a Canadian brand, so I couldn’t help but feel inclined towards it. That said, the label reads, “Your secret ingredient.” Meaning – this soup only tastes good when mixed with other things. When even the soup maker is saying that, it doesn’t exactly boost my confidence.

Tasting notes: There was hardly a mushroom in sight. It was the colour of Eagle Brand Sweetened Condensed Milk but didn’t arouse me in the same way. That said, this soup had more flavour than most of the others. Which isn’t saying all that much, to be honest.

Verdict: Patriotism will only get you so far.

4) No Name, $0.69

I didn’t have any grand expectations for this brand, which is how you should approach most No Name products. And life in general.

Tasting notes: The soup maintained its shape when it slid out, embedded can marks and all. There were few mushroom pieces. The colour reminded me of that putty used to seal holes in wood. It was thicker than some of the other brands, but also had a lumpy, gelatinous texture that disturbed me. There was also a bit of heat to this. Which also disturbed me.

Verdict: I was disturbed.

5) Batchelors, $5.49

Given that I’d already tested Batchelors mac and cheese to lacklustre results, I wasn’t looking forward to this. Soup in a cup always confuses me. Am I supposed to drink it? That seems wrong on so many levels.

Tasting notes: The directions called for 230 ml of boiling water which seemed odd because one cup is 250 ml. Was that extra 20 ml going to make or break this? The soup was the colour of clay water. It also had croutons, which eerily stayed crispy, and flecks of parsley which added some colour. The taste was surprisingly not bad. That doesn’t mean it tasted good, mind you.

Verdict: This batchelor has yet to find love.

6) President’s Choice, $2.99

Sometimes, the PC brands come out a winner. (See my shortbread taste test.) But other times, it seems the brand is more about marketing than about quality. At least this wasn’t proclaiming itself as “World’s Best Cream of Mushroom Soup.” (As if such a thing exists.)

Tasting notes: It was similar in texture to the Tim Horton’s brand, although it had more chunks of mushrooms. The colour was International Delight French Vanilla coffee cream that’s been sitting in the back of the staff fridge for eight months. In terms of taste, I didn’t like this one at all. It was too thick and creamy. If it leaves a coating on your tongue, that’s a hard pass for me.

Verdict: Back to the campaign trail, Mr. President.

7) Campbell’s, $3.69

This is Campbell’s non-condensed version. I guess it’s for people who consider themselves too bougie for the regular kind. Or can’t be bothered with water.

Tasting notes: This was horrible! It was thick and cloying and reminded me of wallpaper paste. (Speaking of – it was also the colour of wallpaper paste.) I went back to the can to make sure I wasn’t supposed to add water. What kind of person would eat this soup and say it tasted good? Never mind, I don’t want to know.

Verdict: A very bad mushroom trip.

8) Amy’s, $3.99

This was the second organic brand on my list. I got confused between Amy’s and Annie’s, the brand that won my macaroni and cheese taste test. I’d like to think Amy and Annie are friends and get together to discuss organic things.

Tasting notes: This one had very specific directions. It said to shake the can before opening (which I didn’t read before opening) and called for only a ¼ cup of milk. It also said to please not overcook. Amy is very particular. In terms of colour, it reminded me of wet cement. But it was packed with mushroom pieces and had very good flavour.

Verdict: Amy, you’re anal. But with good reason.

9) Knorr, $2.29

Like the Batchelors brand, this came in an envelope. But it wasn’t nearly as easy to make. I wish I had read the instructions before buying it.

Tasting notes: First, I had to mix water and milk with the powder and whisk it constantly until it came to a boil. It took forever and my arm almost fell off. Then it said to turn the heat down, partially cover it, and let the soup simmer for five minutes. Problem was, it overboiled and made a complete mess of my stovetop. I was not a happy camper. The flavour was okay, but it left a lingering weird taste on my tongue.

Verdict: I will neither make knorr eat this brand again.

10) Campbell’s (condensed), $0.99

The OG that started it all. I saved this one for last as I was curious how it would stack up against the others. Would the Cream Queen hold onto her crown?

Tasting notes: This was the colour of polluted clouds. The taste wasn’t bad, it was sort of nondescript, and middle of the road. In other words, it had few redeeming qualities. Which is what my mom used to say about me.

Verdict: Not the best, not the worst. Which is what my mom also used to say about me.

I’m sad to report that the majority of these soups did nothing to salvage the reputation of cream of mushroom soup. If I had to pick one that could stand on its own, I’d say Amy’s, although it left a lingering onion taste, followed by Aylmer’s. The rest I’m banishing to the toadstool forest with Campbells non-condensed leading the fungi parade.

This all proves that the only place for cream of mushroom soup is in casseroles. Speaking of, here’s one of my faves, Ranch House Casserole. Despite its name, you don’t need to live on a ranch, or even in a house, to make it. But you do need a stove.

1 package Kraft Dinner
1 can cream of mushroom soup
¼ cup milk
1 can canned sliced mushrooms
1 cup hot, cooked peas

Heat over to 350°. Prepare Kraft Dinner as directed on package. Add soup and milk and combine thoroughly. Fold in mushrooms and peas. Place in casserole dish. Bake for 20 minutes.

Did I miss a brand of cream of mushroom soup you think is worthy of consideration? Leave a comment and share it with the world.

Caker Christmas 2023

After a four-year hiatus, 2023 marked the return of my annual Caker Christmas party. It’s been a tradition – for better or worse – for about 25 years. I invite my Italian in-laws and friends to bring a mangiacake dish. Think Cool Whip, cream of mushroom soup and Jell-O. Here are the highlights from this year. Or lowlights, depending on your perspective.

Bertha’s Nuts and Bolts

I found this recipe in one of my church cookbooks. Handwritten recipes inside of cookbooks are usually a good sign. Also, how could anyone resist a recipe called Bertha’s Nuts and Bolts?

I couldn’t find Bugles. Is there a shortage I’m not aware of? So, I substituted goldfish, which worked well. I also used Corn Chex instead of Shreddies. It was delicious. I hope Bertha approves.

Santa Cheeseball

I also made this Santa cheeseball. The beard is made with whipped cream cheese and his hat is a red pepper. I don’t mean to gloat, but this is more than a cheeseball: It’s art.

Chips and Onion Soup Mix Dip

I also served chips with sour cream and onion soup mix dip. If I had a last meal, this would be it. Mix and let the dip sit in the fridge for at least 24 hours before serving. You need to rehydrate those onions.

Double Cheeseburger Ring

For my entrée, I served a double cheeseburger ring made with Bisquick, ground beef, cream of mushroom soup and cheddar cheese. It kept breaking when I tried to form it into a ring. So instead, it’s a cheeseburger horseshoe. Or a giant cheeseburger worm. I tried to hide it under the fries. One guest described the taste as “chalky.” Italians are picky about their food.

Hot Hearty Golden Puff

This Hot Hearty Golden Puff was made with Velveeta and saltines. The cook also added corn and ham. There was a sprinkling of pepper on top. Many cakers might consider this too much seasoning. We’re a bland bunch.

Sweet Potato Casserole

This is a sweet potato casserole, complete with marshmallows. The cook had the canned yams brought over from the States. That’s how serious people are about the authenticity of their caker dishes. Bonus points for presentation.

Chicken Cobbler Casserole

This chicken cobbler casserole was made with Bisquick. The chef informed us that she added a layer of mozzarella cheese on top. I have a feeling she was trying to hide something. Bonus points for the dented tin foil pan.

Macaroni Chicken Casserole

This macaroni chicken casserole won best tasting dish of the night. The cook who made it was both pleased and disturbed by this honour.  

Creamy Chicken and Rice Casserole

It’s not Caker Christmas unless there’s a casserole topped with potato chips. This was another chicken casserole, only made with rice. It was running neck-and-neck for the best tasting dish of the night. Things got pretty tense for a while.

All together now…

Here’s everything on one plate! Honestly, I can’t tell you what’s what. It’s all just a blur of beige.

Caker Trifle

For dessert, a guest brought what she called a caker trifle made with Cool Whip, cookies, and cherry pie filling, and served in a Compliments brand cookie tin. And, she said, you can use the tin afterwards as a sewing kit.

Mom’s “Christmas Fingers”

There’s nothing more rewarding than finding a recipe that speaks your name and then customizing it to make it uniquely your own. This recipe for Mom’s “Christmas Fingers” piqued my interest.

Here’s my twist on them. I used red pistachio shells as fingernails. People were disturbed. Someone said this was more Halloween than Christmas. That said, everyone agreed that mom’s fingers were tasty.

Kitty Litter Cake

More disturbing to guests, though, was my kitty litter cake. It’s made with two kinds of cake, pudding, and cookie crumbs. But really, the Tootsie Rolls are the star of the show. You’re supposed to put it in a kitty litter box and serve it with a kitty litter scoop, but even I have my limits.

And that’s a wrap. Santa is looking like how I was feeling by the end of the night. I’ve got a fridge full of congealed leftovers I need to get started on.

Season’s Eatings! And if you want to dive deeper into the wacky world of caker cuisine, visit my blog, Caker Cooking, which features over 250 tried-and-true classic caker recipes.

Best and Worst Shortbread

Scotland has gifted the world with many treasures, including the Loch Ness Monster, stuffed sheep stomach, and the voice of Sheena Easton. Scotland has also given the world shortbread.

For something traditionally made with just three ingredients (butter, flour, and sugar), shortbread shouldn’t be hard to screw up. But the simpler something is, the more complicated it can be. (Ouch, that sentence made my brain hurt.)

With the holiday season upon us, and shortbread showing up in every grocery aisle, I had to wonder: Which brand is best? I taste-tested 12 different kinds, ranging in price from $1.25 to $12. I also made a recipe to see how homemade shortbread stacks up against store-bought.

I asked fellow writer and shortbread aficionado, Amanda Leduc, to taste alongside me. Amanda recently returned from a writing retreat in Scotland. While there, she did her own Scottish shortbread taste test which you can check out on her Instagram. To avoid bias, neither of us knew which brand we were tasting, and we only ranked plain shortbread.

Which shortbread was short on taste and which brand sung like a wee bonnie lass? Read on to find out.

1) Farm Boy

Any time a package proclaims “100% real” ingredients, that’s a red flag for me. It’s like juice labels that read, “Now contains real juice!” What was it made with before? Gasoline?

Tasting Notes: “The texture doesn’t feel like shortbread to me,” Amanda said. “It’s like all the elements are there, but it’s somehow off.” (Brian’s note: Many of the people I dated in my twenties said the same about me.) 4/10

I thought the texture was okay, but this shortbread gave me a strong Crisco vibe. Like when you eat a teaspoon of Crisco, and it leaves a coating on your tongue. And yes, I’ve eaten Crisco. It was considered a health food in the ‘70s. 4/10

2) Biskwi, $1.25

Coming in as the cheapest brand, I picked this up at the dollar store. I’m not sure the brand name rings authentically Scottish, but I appreciate the plaid pattern on the box and the seal that apparently represents nothing. I’m going to cut out the seal and pin it to my coat so people think I’m important. Did this dollar store brand deliver?

Tasting Notes: As soon as Amanda tasted this, she shook her head. “No, just no,” she said. “The taste feels artificial in some way. It’s more like a cookie than shortbread.” 3/10

I thought this one tasted weird. It had a coconut undertone, which confused me. It was fine as a cookie, but not a shortbread. Still, if you’ve got $1.25 and low expectations, Biskwi might be your best bet. 3.5/10

3) Mary MacLeod’s, $12

This was the most expensive shortbread I bought and certainly had the classiest packaging. And with a name like Mary MacLeod, can you really go wrong? Still, as my panettone taste test proved, expensive doesn’t always equate to good taste.

Tasting Notes: “This one is a bit sweet and has more of a lingering taste,” Amanda noted. “It’s brown around the edges, which adds a crispiness. It’s interesting but doesn’t deliver the heft I’m looking for.” 6.5/10

I tasted some caramel notes, and thought the texture was good. The biscuit was on the hard side, which gave my teeth a workout. I found it an overall satisfying shortbread experience, even though the biscuits looked like eyeballs. 7/10

4) GaGa, $5.99

I got this brand for gluten intolerant and vegan readers. Can we take a moment to truly marvel at the machine that is Lady Gaga? Singer, actress, fashion icon, and now shortbread maker! But would her shortbread leave us with pah-pah-pah-poker face?

Tasting Notes: This one got another head shake as soon as Amanda tasted it. “It’s not working in the way it should. I understand the need for vegan and gluten-free options, but this one isn’t for me.” 2/10

I immediately sensed something was off with this biscuit. The texture was brittle and there was a weird aftertaste. It felt like it was pretending to be something it wasn’t. Which, if I’m going to be honest, sums up the entirety of my closeted teenaged years. 2/10

5) Laura Secord, $6.99

I didn’t know that Ms. Secord made shortbread fingers. I always associate her with butterscotch suckers and those sugared jellied fruit wedges that your Great Aunt Eleanor is fond of. Did Ms. Secord’s shortbread snap?

Tasting Notes: Amanda noted the unsugared top. “This is also in the mid-range. The texture is lighter and crumblier but, ultimately, it’s not leaving a lasting impression.” 6.5/10

I found Ms. Secord’s biscuit too gritty. And it tasted a bit dusty. I also didn’t get a butter flavour. I wasn’t a fan. But Great Aunt Eleanor might feel otherwise. 3/10

6) Our Finest, $5.87

I appreciated the high saturated fat warning on the bottom right corner of this Wal-Mart brand. Although, if you’re giving this shortbread as a gift, it might send a mixed message. “Here’s some shortbread, Harold. Don’t eat too much or else you may clog an artery and die. Happy Holidays!”

Tasting Notes: “When I think of the magic of shortbread,” Amanda said, “It’s how the heft and the taste work together. I think about it standing up to a pot of British tea. This shortbread does that.” 7.5/10

I thought this one had a nice texture, the flavour was a bit bland, but not a bad effort. It was a step up from the other grocery store brands we tried. 7/10

7) Panache, $4.99

Panache is Sobey’s house brand. The package colour was very similar to Mary MacLeod’s. I’ve tried the Panache line before, namely their egg nog, to lacklustre results. So, did Panache pack a punch?

Tasting Notes: “The heft of this one is closer to what shortbread should be,” Amanda said. “Although I’m missing the sugar on top. I like that little bit of extra crunch. There’s something a little off about the taste. I’m not sure how to describe it. It’s just unremarkable.” 7.5/10

I liked that it wasn’t too sweet, and it had a good crunch. But there was nothing memorable that would have me coming back. Passable, but lacking the panache I look for in my life. 6/10

8) Peek Freans Shortcake, $4.99

I realize this might be a controversial inclusion in a shortbread taste test, but when I was growing up, this was the closest we got to actual shortbread. Plus, you could buy it year-round. I thought it was worth tasting again, if only in the name of reclaiming my long-lost childhood.

Tasting Notes: “I give this marks for participation,” Amanda said. “But this one is coming in at 1/10. Maybe 1.5 if I’m feeling generous. This leaves no impression at all.”

Look, I know it’s not technically shortbread, but this cookie got me through some lonely afternoons as a child. I think it stood the test of time and yes, I would’ve eaten the entire box while watching an episode of Scooby Doo. Clearly nothing has changed for me since I was eight. 5/10

9) President’s Choice, $3.99

Generally speaking, the President’s Choice line isn’t bad, depending on what you buy. And who can resist poring over the new holiday products when the Insider’s Report lands? Also, PC makes a shortbread ice cream but that’s a whole other taste test.

Tasting Notes: “This one is denser,” Amanda said. “And I like the sprinkling of sugar on top. It lingers in a nice and not overpowering way.” 8/10

I appreciate a thick finger and this PC cookie delivered. A subtle crunch that was complemented with a sugar crust dusting and a hint of salt. This president has my vote. 8/10

10) Walkers, $4.49

Walkers is the granddad of shortbread. It’s so famous, even the Queen appointed it! I see these familiar plaid boxes everywhere during the holidays. But is Walkers worth the hype or should it just walk(er) on by?

Tasting Notes: “I want a biscuit that holds up when paired with a cup of tea,” Amanda said. “This one would. It has a good texture and is close to what the perfect shortbread should be.” 8/10

I thought it had a nice texture and it was a substantial biscuit. That said, I didn’t really find anything too remarkable about it. I realize I’m going to have the Monarchy coming after me for saying that. 6/10

11) Longo’s $6.99

I’ve had less than stellar results with the Longo’s brand before. Their panettone didn’t live up to my expectations, even though they’re an Italian grocery store. So, I was dubious. Would Longo’s shortbread redeem them?

Tasting Notes: Amanda noted the thinness of this shortbread. “It’s not too sweet, which I like,” she said. “That way, you can eat more. But it’s not my favourite. It’s good, but it doesn’t leave a lasting impression.” 5/10

I thought the texture was on the sandy side. This finger would do in a pinch, but it’s not something I’d go back to. Longo’s, you’ve got a long-o way to go. 6/10

12) World’s Best, $5.99

I have my doubts when anything proclaims itself as the world’s best anything. How are you going to prove that? It’s like me saying I’m the world’s best Celine Dion lip-syncher, which is true, but how will I ever prove it?

Tasting Notes: “It’s serviceable,” Amanda said. “It has a nice crunch and a slightly caramelized taste. But it’s not a shortbread I’d keep coming back to.” 5/10

I thought this shortbread was one of the top ones. It had an outer rim of sugar which heightened the crunch factor, and it had a strong finish. Maybe not the world’s best. But a definite contender. 8/10

13) Homemade

I found a recipe online that seemed authentic. Well, as authentic as anything you find online these days. The recipe said to bake the shortbread at 280 degrees Fahrenheit for 35-40 minutes. That seemed weird. I’ve never cooked anything at that temperature before. I let it go for 35 minutes before cranking it up to 325 and letting it bake for an additional 10 minutes. How would my homemade version hold up?

Tasting Notes: “This doesn’t taste like shortbread,” Amanda said. “The texture doesn’t feel like shortbread to me. If you were on a desert island and this was your only option, maybe it would do.” (Brian’s note: This is the point I withered like a Scottish thistle.) 3/10

I had to admit my version had a greasy taste and was on the chewy side – not a good look for shortbread. It was too sweet for my liking and a bit doughy. Clearly, I’m a shortbread threat to no one. 4/10

The Verdict…

It all came down to a chosen few. After a careful re-examination between her top choices, Walkers and President’s Choice, Amanda ultimately chose President’s Choice as the winner. My top two were President’s Choice and World’s Best. I picked President’s Choice, too. We have a unanimous winner! Sound the bagpipes! 

In terms of the worst, neither of us felt born this way for GaGa, but given its purpose, it didn’t feel right to compare it alongside its non-vegan and gluten shortbread siblings. When comparing the other brands, Amanda would stay clear of Biswki (and Peek Freans Shortcake) and I’d run from Laura Secord.

Did we miss your favourite shortbread? Post a comment and let us know!

Thanks to my cohort Amanda for going on this buttery journey with me. Check out Amanda’s website, her Instagram account, and her newsletter, Notes From A Small Planet, that explores grief and astronomy. 

And if you spot a large-eared man at No Frills wearing a Biskwi cardboard seal pinned to his jacket, please make a point to say hello. 

Happy Holidays!

Bazaar-o-Rama 2023

Throughout November, I visit as many holiday bazaars as possible. They’re always an adventure and, more often than not, I meet at least one new friend named Jean. Here’s a round-up of my best bazaar finds from 2023.

Friendship Angel, $5

This angel has a tea towel body, microfibre cloth arms, a potholder for wings, and it even comes with a poem! Can we take a moment to marvel at the expanse of the human imagination?

Pizza Square, $4

You never know what you can find at a bazaar. Giant squares of hot pizza at 10 a.m., for example. Although, if you’re looking for some, stick to the Italian bazaars. It was the only time my Italian husband was happy to see what I brought home from a bazaar.

Tomato Sauce, $10

Speaking of Italians…the woman behind the table at another, not Italian, bazaar was selling this tomato sauce to me hard. “You don’t understand,” I wanted to say when I saw the ingredient list included seasoned salt and canola oil, “I can’t bring this home. I’m married to an Italian.” I bought it anyway. “Well, I hope you enjoy that,” my husband said later. “Because I’m not touching it.” I think he may have rigged the lid so that an alarm goes off if I try to open the jar.

Knit Slippers, $5

I usually buy a new pair of knit slippers every year. I’ve seen lots of styles (and unfortunate colours) over the years, but never a pair as fancy as these. I’ll reserve them for nights on the town. A word to the wise: If you wear knit slippers and have hardwood floors, never, ever rush to do anything.

Mini Pumpkin Pie, $5

I’m always on the lookout for mini turkey pies at bazaars but I didn’t score any this year. I did, however, purchase this mini pumpkin pie. My main issue with mini pies is that one slice never fills you up.

Need I say more?

Peanut Butter Square, $2

I don’t agree with fruit-flavoured marshmallows in Peanut Butter Squares. It’s wrong. Only plain white marshmallows should be used. This strong conviction of mine, however, didn’t stop me from buying one. I simply cast a disapproving look at the bake table lady as I passed her my toonie.

Clue Board Game, $2

Who remembers this game of murder and intrigue from the seventies? This mint condition find has all the pieces – even the lead pipe! It’s also bilingual. So it’ll help me remember a ballroom in French is called a “salle de bal.” Not that I think I’ll have many opportunities to use that word.

The only hiccup with board games is needing friends to play them with. Which is a challenge for me. I’ll likely end up playing with myself on Saturday nights. Which, if I’m going to be honest, isn’t that much different than most of my Saturday nights.

That’s a wrap! I’m going for a decaf with Jean. I hope to see some of you at the knit table next year.

Making Apple Head Dolls

Apple head dolls don’t get the recognition they deserve. Each one is unique, they’re cheap to make, and no craft better represents the ravages of time. They’re just like people. Before you know it, the moisture has been sucked out of their faces and they turn into shriveled, toothless, leathery balls.

To make your apple head doll, simply carve a face into a peeled apple. Don’t get hung up on the features. Y’aren’t making Mount Rushmore here, friends. Let the apple soak for 15 minutes in a mixture of 1 cup of lemon juice or white vinegar and 1 tsp of salt. Then hang it somewhere and let time work its cruel magic.

When the apples have dried completely (about 2 to 3 weeks), insert a stick into the bottom (I used a chopstick), wrap wires around the stick for arms and legs, and then pad the body with cotton batten.

Dress and accessorize your doll using everyday materials. Here are some of the items I used:

Popcorn kernels (for teeth)

Twig found in my garage (for a broomstick)

Gym shirt (at least my gym clothes are being used for something)

Felt, ribbon, and moss from the Dollar Store

Yarn moustache from a Santa Claus pantyhose head (don’t ask)

Cotton batten from said pantyhose head

Cardboard

Fabric and wire left over from making Covid masks

If you’re like me and your sewing skills haven’t evolved since Grade 8 Home Ec., keep a glue gun handy in case of emergency or extreme thumb pricking.

For my project, I dried three apples, thinking I’d pick the best one to turn into a doll. But each head ended up with its own unique charms and I decided to make all three. Clearly, I have too much time on my hands. But I look at it this way: I have three new best friends. Now if only strangers wouldn’t stare when the four of us are out for dinner…

Arriving just ahead of Halloween, here are my witchy creations. I took the photos at my neighbourhood park. I can only imagine the conversations I sparked for the passersby. “Helen, I’ve seen a lot of weird people in that park. But you’re never going to believe what I saw today!”

Agnes Honeycrisp

Agnes loves spending time in the kitchen. Looks like she just whipped something up! Although whatever’s in the oven smells a bit funny. By the way, has anyone seen Hansel or Gretel?

Eunice MacIntosh

The eldest of the trio, Eunice turned 457 last week! She is looking for companionship and veneers in this next stage of life. She enjoys bloody Marys made with the blood of virgins and long broomstick rides around the moon.

Bertha Gala

Bertha is a bookworm. She even uses real worms as bookmarks! When she’s not diving into a murder mystery (she considers them romance books), Bertha likes digging up fun times at the cemetery. Random fact: Bertha was Piper Laurie’s stunt double in the film, Carrie.

I hope you consider making an apple head doll. You don’t need to be a Michael Angelo. They don’t have to be witches either. Turn your dolls into real elderly people, put them in sweater sets, and stage them in a mall food court or relaxing poolside in Florida. The possibilities are endless!

P.S. If you need specific instructions, I referenced “How To Make An Apple Doll,” by G.E. Mewes. She provides step-by-step directions and patterns for clothing, although the dress pattern seemed a bit wonky. Let’s just say there’s a reason I’m not showing the backside of my gals. 

Best and Worst Halloween Candy

As a kid, I don’t know what terrified me more at Halloween time: Getting too close to an open flame in my polyester costume, crossing the street at night while wearing a plastic mask with two tiny slits for eyeholes, or peering into strangers’ houses and seeing their unfortunate home decor choices.

The only payoff? The candy haul! But not all Halloween candy is created equal. I thought it was time to revisit some classics. I ranked 13 different kinds to determine the best and the worst, IMHO. I established a few ground rules. I didn’t include chocolate or potato chips because there’s no such thing as bad chocolate or chips. I also didn’t store my candy in a pillowcase. This may have affected the overall flavour.

Which Halloween candy treated and which candy tricked? Here are my rankings, worst to best.

13) Apple

I know, I know. It’s not candy. But there was always one Birkenstock-clad person on your route who dropped an apple into your sack and said, “It’s nature’s candy, bud.” Was there anything more depressing? And don’t get me started on the threat of razor blades. As if kids needed another reason to run the other way.

12) Suckers, particularly yellow

Cue the sad trombone when you got a crinkly fistful of these tossed your way. Cheap cellophane-wrapped suckers truly sucked, especially the lemon kind. No kid ever asked for a lemon flavoured anything. Tasted like Pledge as a kid, tastes like Pledge as an adult.

11) Twizzlers

Twizzlers are like chewing strawberry flavoured extension cords. Their one redeeming quality is that you can bite the ends off and use them as straws. The only licorice worth anyone’s time were the long ropes of purple and green licorice. You could also use the licorice to tie your shoe if the laces broke.

10) Sugar Daddy Milk Caramel Pop

You don’t see these around much anymore. I suppose having a stranger answer their door on Halloween and asking, “Who wants a Sugar Daddy?” was problematic. Anyway, if you’re middle aged like me and have any dental work, please avoid this sticky sucker. I’m currently looking for a sugar daddy to pay for the three crowns and two molars I lost.

9) Rockets

It’s not that Rockets tasted bad, but these were usually the only candies lying around come mid-November. By that point, the wrappers had come off, so it meant picking them up one by one from the bottom of your pillowcase and dusting off the stale chip crumbs. Overall, Rockets are an okay candy, but only when the candy well has run dry.

8) Dubble Bubble

I can report that each pack still comes with a comic. I can also report that, just like when I was a kid, the comic isn’t funny. I can also report that, just like when I was a kid, the flavour of Dubble Bubble doesn’t last. I timed my piece and the flavour faded at exactly 3 minutes, 31 seconds. I can also report that if you go to bed with gum in your mouth, good luck getting it out of your hair in the morning.

7) Wax Lips

As a blossoming homosexual, no treat was more exciting than a pair of red wax lips. True, the lips didn’t have much flavour. And consuming large quantities of wax can lead to severe constipation in children. (I’m speaking from experience.) But these were small prices to pay compared to the joy of wearing your lips as you twirled around in your basement to the theme song from the TV show, Angie.

6) Candy Corn

Let’s cut to the chase: candy corn has no discernable flavour. I think its appeal is about the texture, a soft, waxy exterior that gives way to the cushiony interior. It’s all about the chew. Random fact: Candy corn was the closest I got to eating a vegetable between the ages of seven and nine.

5) Halloween Kisses

Infamous for their orange and yellow wrappers and considered by many to be the worst Halloween candy ever, these weren’t as bad as I remembered. They were actually pretty good. They had a deep flavour, a soft texture, and a hint of spice. Before you give these candies the kiss off, you might want to give them another chance.

4) Tootsie Rolls

Like candy corn, I’ve never understood what Tootsie Rolls are supposed to taste like. Are they chocolate flavoured? Fudge flavoured? Brown flavoured? In any case, I used Tootsie Rolls once to make turds for a kitty litter cake. Once you have that visual in your head, it’s hard to unsee it. 

3) Popeye Candy Sticks

I’m old enough to remember when these were called candy cigarettes. They even had a red tip on the end. But those were the ‘70s when cigarette smoking was part of the elementary school curriculum. (I excelled at French inhaling but always failed at blowing smoke rings.) Popeye Candy Sticks are still tasty. And still very addictive.

2) Popcorn Balls

Believe it or not, people used to give out homemade treats at Halloween. Mind you, they had to include their address, phone number, social security number, and their signed “I’m Not a Psychopath” declaration to reassure parents. You could taste the love in every popcorn ball. You could also taste the unpopped kernels. Which explains why I was a 10-year-old with partial dentures.

1) Caramels

I always thought people who handed out caramels, particularly Kraft Caramels, were wealthy. There was something so decadent about these little bronze-coloured cubes of gooey goodness. You knew you hit paydirt when you got a handful. Sometimes, I’d ask the people to adopt me, but they always said no, they already gave to charity the previous month. But I still got the caramels, which I guess was enough compensation for me.

And that’s a (candy) wrap! Did I miss your favourite Halloween goodies? Do you disagree with my rankings? Leave a comment!

If you’re out trick or treating this year, please keep an eye out for a grown man in a mask attempting to cross the street. He’ll need all the help he can get.

 Happy Halloween!