Brian Francis's Blog, page 4

Apple Cider Taste Test

It’s not autumn until you’re unwedging your front teeth from a candy apple, dodging drunk, angry wasps, and wearing your new parka when it’s 28 degrees outside.

It’s also not autumn until you’re enjoying a glass of apple cider and poking your eye with a cinnamon stick every time you take a sip.

Apple cider (not to be confused with apple cider vinegar which is a whole other ballgame) is a divisive seasonal beverage. Some people hate it. But I’ve never understood why. Unless you find drinking something the colour of puddle water a buzzkill.

A good cider needs to find the balance of tart and sweet, with just the right notes of cinnamon. So, who makes the best apple cider? I taste-tested seven commercial brands while wearing a lavender-scented night mask to ensure I was unbiased. (See photographic evidence below.) I evaluated each cider on colour, smell, texture, and overall taste.

Which cider house ruled and which brand fell far from the tree? Read on to find out.

Longo’s, $5.97

Longo’s is an expensive grocery store. While it’s true their produce section is nicer than the bruised fruit parade at my local No Frills, fresh produce isn’t a priority for me as I mainly eat canned mandarin slices. So, did those perfect Longo’s apples make for a perfect cider?  

Tasting Notes: This cider sucked. It was the colour of basement flood water. There wasn’t much of a smell either. It was also very thin, very bland, and missing that strong apple punch I look for in a cider. Time to go back to the orchard, Longo’s.

President’s Choice, $4.99

Coming in at a hefty three litres, the PC brand offered more bang for your buck than the other ciders. But just because something is larger doesn’t mean it’s gooder. Nevertheless, PC is a classic brand, so my expectations were high. Did this cider shake my tree?

Tasting notes: The cider had a delicate scent and was the colour of tea that’s been sitting in a mug for a year in the staff lunchroom that no one’s taking ownership of. In terms of taste, it was refreshing, but a bit too sweet for my liking. It was more like an apple-flavoured beverage than a cider. In other words, bigger isn’t always better. But if you’re expecting 50 people for Thanksgiving dinner – and peace be with you if you are – go for it.

Naturalia, $4.99

I got this at Metro. I’ve never heard of this brand before (not that I’m a connoisseur of apple cider brands) but it sounded like a Lady Gaga album. I liked the label. It had leaves, which made me think it was closest to nature. The closest you can get in a plastic container, anyway.

Tasting notes: This had a nice, deep bouquet. It was the colour of a peach drink that you sip and then say, “Ooo, that’s off.” In terms of taste, this was the sweetest of the bunch. There was an aftertaste that was hard to put my finger on. Kind of perfume-y. Overall, it was okay, but not the apple of my eye.

Black River Non-Organic, $2.99 (Small Bottle)

I bought two versions of this brand: organic and non-organic. You can really notice the darker colour of the organic version. I guess it’s because there’s more dirt. But was there much difference in the taste?

This had a nice buttery aroma and a bright flavour. But it was the colour of cloudy urine. The cider wasn’t too sweet and had a good, not-too-thick, not-too-thin consistency. If you can get over the urine thing, Black River non-organic is worth your time.

Black River Organic, $2.99 (Small Bottle)

Here’s the organic version, no doubt feeling superior to its pesticide-laden cousin. The colour is dramatically different between the two. It’s like comparing apples and oranges! But how did it taste compared to the non-organic version?

Tasting notes: This had virtually no smell and was the colour of the five rivers of the underworld. It was too tart and tangy and made my mouth a bit phlegmy. (You know what I mean.) Give me the pesticide-laden version any day.

Farm Boy

This is the jug that started my apple cider journey. I picked it up on a whim last week. Like Longo’s, Farm Boy is an expensive grocery store although I mainly think you’re paying for the adjectives. But when you think of cider, I must admit the name “Farm Boy” adds an air of authenticity.

Tasting notes: This had a nice aroma and was the colour of gas station squeegee water. It was on the tart side for my liking and made my tongue feel weird. Then again, I had drunk a lot of cider by this point. My tongue was a raisin. All in all, the Farm Boy brand was decent enough, but it wasn’t the pick of the pack.

Bennett’s $7.90

This was the most expensive brand I tested, which is not surprising, considering I bought it at Eataly, another overpriced grocery store. But I liked that there was some history on the side label about how the family has been growing apples in Ancaster, Ontario since 1911.

Tasting notes: This had a good texture and was the colour of liquid that’s been sitting in a bird bath all winter. It had a bright apple taste with a hint of cinnamon. It wasn’t overly sweet. It reminded me of an apple pie. Less the crust. Which, let’s be honest, is the best part of apple pie. Bennett Family, it looks like you’re in the right business.

Overall rankings, worst to best

7. Longo’s

6. President’s Choice

5. Black River Organic

4. Naturalia

3. Farm Boy

2. Black River Non-Organic

1. Bennett’s

There you have it. My fridge handles are so sticky, it took me a half-hour to pry myself free. But these are the lengths I go to in the name of investigative journalism. Did I miss your favourite brand? Leave a comment and spread the cider love

Have a great holiday weekend, whatever you drink. So long as it’s not apple cider vinegar.

Best and Worst Macaroni Salad

Summer is many things for me: Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil, thongs, roller skates, and boardwalks. (In that order.) But summer is also about food. And nothing says summer to me like a good helping of macaroni salad on a soggy paper plate.  

Although it might seem simple, macaroni salad is pretty complicated. It should be creamy, but not too creamy, and have just the right blend of sweet and tang. And let’s not forget the star of the show: elbow macaroni. Cook it too long and you don’t eat it so much as slap it around your mouth.

But who makes the best macaroni salad? I taste-tested seven commercial brands and kept my eyes closed so I didn’t know which was which. I didn’t include any cheese versions, even though I don’t think it’s actual cheese but orange food colouring. To raise the stakes, I also made a macaroni salad recipe from one of my community cookbooks, submitted by a woman named Shelly. And believe me – when it comes to macaroni salad, Shellys usually know their stuff.

So which macaroni salad elbowed its way to the top? And which one dissolved to mush? Read on to find out.

 1) Ziggy’s, $3.99

Ziggy’s is a Loblaw’s brand. I think of it as a step up from No Name but a step down from President’s Choice. It’s mainly deli stuff, like salads, cold cuts, and cheese. Although, as a child of the 70s, I’ll always associate the name “Ziggy” with that bald, no-neck cartoon character. So did Ziggy’s macaroni salad make me say, “Zig-a-zig-ah?”

Tasting Notes: Ziggy, you were bald — on taste. Yes, you were creamy. Yes, the pasta wasn’t overcooked. But no, I won’t be asking you out for a second date. I need a macaroni salad that gets my heart racing (in the good kind of way) and this wasn’t it.

2) Compliments, $3.99

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. I’ve had some less-than-stellar experiences with Compliments over the years, especially their eggnog. Did I end up extending my compliments after tasting their macaroni salad?

Tasting Notes: Compliments held up pretty well. There were some nice chunks of crunchy pickle to contrast the squishy pasta and an overall creamy texture. Not the best of the bunch, but not bad either. That’s the highest compliment I can give.

3) Kentucky Fried Chicken, $2.72

As far as I’m concerned, KFC has had the corner on macaroni salad and neon-green cole slaw for years. When I pulled up to the drive-thru window, I was handed a paper bag containing 17 napkins and this thimble of macaroni salad. For $2.72!!! What the cluck, KFC?

Tasting Notes: I had high hopes for the Colonel, but this was proof that bad things can come in little packages. It was mushy and there was a distinct barnyard aftertaste. You know that aftertaste, right? It reminds you of horses in all the wrong ways. Colonel, I say, “neigh.”

4) Longo’s, $4.99

Longo’s is a grocery store for people who don’t mind spending a lot of money on the same things they could get at No Frills for cheaper. True, the atmosphere is better. But I will bag my own groceries if it means saving 50 cents on Cheez Whiz. I have priorities.

Tasting Notes: Call my dentist because I got a cavity eating this macaroni salad! This was, by far, the sweetest salad of the bunch. Maybe that’s how the wealthy prefer their macaroni salad. But not me. This salad can take the longo way home – and pick up some toothpaste along the way.

5) Reser’s, $3.99

I bought this salad at No Frills, along with the Ziggy’s brand. Given that this wasn’t a store brand, I was anxious to try it. Was this the gourmet version I’d been searching for?

Tasting Notes: This had everything I look for in a macaroni salad. Soft-but-not-bloated pasta and a silky base that held everything together in harmony. It was the most exciting sensation I’ve had in my mouth in a long time. A very, very, very long time.

6) Kraft Pasta Salad, $2.34

I threw this into the mix because if anyone knows a thing or two about macaroni, it’s the chefs at Kraft. There’s a seasoning package inside the box that you mix with a half-cup of mayernnaise. There were flecks of colour in the seasoning that I’m assuming were once vegetables.  

Tasting Notes: This one was drier than the others and tasted like Ranch Dressing. There was also a bit of heat that I wasn’t expecting. And it was weirdly addictive. Once I started eating it, I couldn’t stop. Not because it was good. But because it wasn’t good. I don’t know what that says about me.

7) Keybrand Deli Classics, $3.99

I got this at Metro. I wasn’t familiar with this brand name so I didn’t have high hopes. Then again, if you keep your expectations very low, nothing is a disappointment. That’s what my mom used to tell her friends about me.

Tasting Notes: It was better than I thought it would be. The macaroni was firm, and it had a nice balance of sweet to tang. Not necessarily the “key” to my macaroni salad happiness, but it would do in a pinch.

8) Shelly’s Homemade Macaroni Salad

This recipe dates all the way back to 1986. For any millennials reading this, we had to cook macaroni in a big pot over a fire in those days. I realize that Shelly’s recipe is the focus here, but Jane’s recipe combining vanilla ice cream with mayernnaise is hard for me to, uh, stomach.

Tasting Notes: I’m sorry, Shelly, but this was drier than a bad perm. (Maybe it could’ve used some vanilla ice cream?) That said, this salad had the most texture of all the ones I sampled. And likely was the healthiest. But I’m not eating macaroni salad for its health benefits, Shelly.

So here are my overall rankings from worst to best:

8) KFC

7) Longo’s

6) Shelly’s Homemade Macaroni Salad

5) Ziggy’s

4) Compliments

3) Kraft Pasta Salad

2) Keybrand Deli Classics

And our macaroni salad champion…

1) Reser’s

Did I miss your favourite macaroni salad? If so, let me know. I’ll go and eat it, God help me.

Whether it’s macaroni, potato, tuna, egg or Ambrosia, make sure you put the salad in your summer this year. See you on the boardwalk!

Macaroni Salad Taste Test

Summer is many things for me: Hawaiian Tropic Dark Tanning Oil, thongs, roller skates, and boardwalks. (In that order.). But summer is also about food. And nothing says summer to me like a good helping of macaroni salad on a soggy paper plate.  

Although it might seem simple, macaroni salad is pretty complicated. It should be creamy, but not too creamy, and have just the right blend of sweet and tang. And let’s not forget the star of the show: elbow macaroni. Cook it too long and you don’t eat it so much as slap it around your mouth. Undercook it and your salad can end up chewier than a strip of bark.

But who makes the best macaroni salad? I taste-tested seven commercial brands and kept my eyes closed so I didn’t know which was which. I didn’t include any cheese versions, even though I don’t think it’s actual cheese but orange food colouring. To raise the stakes, I also made a macaroni salad recipe from one of my community cookbooks, submitted by a woman named Shelly. And believe me – when it comes to macaroni salad, Shellys know their stuff.

So which macaroni salad elbowed its way to the top? And which one dissolved to mush? Read on to find out.

 1) Ziggy’s, $3.99

Ziggy’s is a Loblaw’s brand that’s a step up from No Frills but a step down from President’s Choice. It’s mainly deli stuff, like salads, cold cuts, and cheese. Although, as a child of the 70s, I’ll always associate the name “Ziggy” with that bald, no-neck cartoon character. So did Ziggy’s macaroni salad make me say, “Zig-a-zig-ah?”

Tasting Notes: Ziggy, you were bald — on taste. Yes, you were creamy. Yes, the pasta wasn’t overcooked. But no, I won’t be asking you out for a second date. I need a macaroni salad that gets my heart racing (in the good kind of way) and this wasn’t it.

2) Compliments, $3.99

Compliments is Sobey’s house brand. I’ve had some less-than-stellar experiences with Compliments over the years, especially their eggnog. Did I end up extending my compliments after tasting their macaroni salad?

Tasting Notes: Compliments held up pretty well. There were some nice chunks of crunchy pickle to contrast the squishy pasta and an overall creamy texture. Not the best of the bunch, but not bad either. That’s the highest compliment I can give.

3) Kentucky Fried Chicken, $2.72

As far as I’m concerned, KFC has had the corner on macaroni salad and neon-green cole slaw for years. When I pulled up to the drive-thru window, I was handed a paper bag containing 17 napkins and this thimble of macaroni salad. There’s like four pieces of macaroni in this. For $2.72!!! What the cluck, KFC?

Tasting Notes: I had high hopes for the Colonel, but this was proof that bad things can come in little packages. It was mushy and there was a distinct barnyard aftertaste. You know that aftertaste, right? It reminds you of horses in all the wrong ways.

4) Longo’s, $4.99

Longo’s is a grocery store for people who don’t mind spending a lot of money on the same things they could get at No Frills for cheaper. True, the atmosphere is better. But I will bag my own groceries if it means saving fifty cents on Cheez Whiz. I have priorities..

Tasting Notes: Call my dentist because I got a cavity eating this macaroni salad! This was, by far, the sweetest salad of the bunch. Maybe that’s how the wealthy prefer their macaroni salad. But not me. This salad can take the longo way home – and pick up some toothpaste along the way.

5) Reser’s, $3.99

I bought this salad at No Frills, along with the Ziggy’s brand. I’ve never heard of Reser’s before so I was curious to try it. (I also have no idea how to pronounce it.) So was this the gourmet version I’d been searching for?

Tasting Notes: This had everything I look for in a macaroni salad. Squishy pasta, but not too squishy, creamy but not drowning in it. It was the most exciting sensation I’ve had in my mouth in a long time. A very, very, very long time.

6) Kraft Pasta Salad, $2.34

I threw this into the mix because if anyone knows a thing or two about macaroni, it’s the chefs at Kraft. There’s a seasoning package inside the box that you mix with a half-cup of mayernnaise. There were flecks of colour in the seasoning that I’m assuming were once vegetables.  

Tasting Notes: This one was drier than the others and tasted like Ranch Dressing. There was also a bit of heat that I wasn’t expecting. And it was weirdly addictive. Once I started eating it, I couldn’t stop. Not because it was good. But because it wasn’t good. Does that make any sense at all?

7) Keybrand Deli Classics, $3.99

I got this at Metro. It was a brand name I’m unfamiliar with so I didn’t have high hopes. Then again, if you keep your expectations very low, nothing is a disappointment. That’s what my mom used to tell her friends about me.

Tasting Notes: It was better than I thought it would be. The macaroni was firm, and it had a nice balance of sweet to sour. Not necessarily the “key” to my happiness, but certainly worth the time.

8) Shelley’s Homemade Macaroni Salad

This recipe dates all the way back to 1986. For any millennials reading this, we had to cook macaroni in a big pot over a fire in those days. Shelly’s recipe called for Miracle Whip, mustard, celery, onions, carrots, green pepper and – the magic ingredient – canned peas.  

Tasting Notes: I’m sorry, Shelly, but this was drier than a bad perm. That said, this salad had the most texture of all the ones I sampled. And likely was the healthiest. But I’m not eating macaroni salad for its health benefits, Shelly.

So here are my overall rankings from best to worst:

8) KFC

7) Homemade

6) Longo’s

5) Ziggy’s

4) Compliments

3) Kraft Pasta Salad

2) Keybrand Deli Classics

1) Reser’s

Did I miss your favourite macaroni salad? If so, let me know. I’ll go and eat it, God help me.

Whether it’s macaroni, potato, tuna, egg or Ambrosia, make sure you put the salad in your summer this year. See you on the boardwalk.

Cool Whip Easter Eggs

Colouring Easter eggs as a kid was always stressful. You ran the risk of your eggs cracking while they boiled. Then you had to mix the PAAS food colouring tabs in separate bowls. Then you had to deal with your mom hovering over your shoulder, saying, “If you stain my counter, so help me God…” And let’s not get started on your shaky hands when it came to lowering the eggs into the dye with that flimsy wire holder. 

When someone recently pointed me to Cool Whip Easter Eggs, I was like “Hunh?” But if you think about it, it sort of makes sense. Cool Whip, after all, is a versatile substance. It makes a great topping for pumpkin pies. When frozen, it can substitute for ice cream on those lonely Saturday nights. And it’s also a fantastic facial moisturizer. So why not eggs? (Apparently you can also use shaving cream for the eggs, but a word of caution – shaving cream doesn’t taste as good on pumpkin pie. I’m speaking from experience.)

To start, boil your eggs. After they’re cool, soak them in distilled vinegar for about five minutes. I wasn’t sure if my vinegar was distilled as it seemed eat away at the eggshells like acid. And giving someone a soft Easter Egg is never a good idea. So keep an eye on them. 

Rinse your eggs and dry them. Then empty a container of Cool Whip into a glass baking dish, add a few drops of food colouring, and swirl it around with a toothpick. Then roll your eggs in the mixture.

Let them sit in the Cool Whip for about 10-15 minutes before rinsing and drying them. 

So how did my eggs turn out? 

Not bad, I guess. Although some of the colours seemed to have left the party. (Hello, green?) And I would’ve preferred to eat the Cool Whip. 

The good thing is that these eggs are edible. So welcome to Brian’s week of egg salad sandwiches. My mom used to make egg salad sandwiches, but the egg salad was always warm and there were bits of shells inside. Let’s just say I’m still recovering.

In terms of presentation, I can’t think of anything lovelier, or more economical, than placing your eggs in the leftover Cool Whip container as your Easter centrepiece. You and your eggs will no doubt be the topic of conversation with every relative on their way home. 

Happy egg hunting, everyone. 

Panettone Taste Test

Being married to an Italian means I’ve been exposed to different Italian holiday traditions over the years. Like eating fish on Christmas Eve, wearing red underwear on New Year’s Day for good luck and, unfortunately, Limoncello. 

Another holiday tradition is panettone which literally translates in English to “the cake that is in resemblance of a brown footstool.” While it may not win any beauty pageants, panettone is actually tasty with a fluffy and buttery interior. It also comes in different varieties. Personally, I’m holding out for someone to come out with a PanetTony! Toni! Toné! version.

In terms of cost, panettones can vary greatly. You can find a cellophane-bagged one for five bucks at No Frills or a fancy one in a tin for seventy dollars at a specialty shop. I remember my mother-in-law once telling me to never spend money on a pricey panettone. (She also told me if I eat lentils on New Year’s Day, I’ll be rich in the year ahead. So far, I’ve only ever started the new year rich in gas.) “You’re paying for the panettone packaging,” she said. But was she right? 

I bought six commercially available panettones, ranging from $3.99 to $8.99. I also saved up my allowance and got a fancy one in a tin for $39.90. And I only bought the raisin and citrus peel variety. To keep things interesting, I added an eighth panettone: My own. I searched high and low for a recipe that didn’t look too daunting, but still spent close to two days making it. Would my mother-in-law be able to sniff out which panettone was made by a mangiacake?

That’s a lot of footstools.

Our blind taste test results follow. Since my husband has never been able to resist panettone, I let him taste alongside his mom. I did my own taste test following theirs, so none of us had any idea what we were sampling. Which panettones rose high and which ones fell flat? Read on to find out. 

1) Milano Panettone Traditional Cake, $5.00

Milano panettones are everywhere at this time of year. My local No Frills is loaded with them, although I got this one at Walmart. But quantity doesn’t always mean quality. Or does it?

Milano high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “I don’t like the smell,” my mother-in-law said. “It’s too strong and cinnamon-y. And it looks very dry.” Once she dug in, she had this to say. (Or not say.) “I don’t have too much to say. It has a bit of an aftertaste.” Personally, I thought it had a processed and perfume-y chemical taste. Not that this has ever stopped me from eating anything before.

 Verdict: Milano, you’re easy to find, but not so easy to love. 

2) Granducale Italia Panettone Classico, $8.97

This brand came in a box. I recommend saving the box for wrapping presents. That way, when the person gets angry thinking all you got them is a panettone, they won’t be as angry when they see you actually got them a washcloth. This is called “reverse box psychology.” 

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Granducale high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “Yep, I like this one,” my mother-in-law said. “It has a beautiful taste and is something you really enjoy eating.” My husband readily agreed and said this was very flavourful and moist. I thought the colour was golden and it had a feathery and fluffy texture. This was a definite contender for me, although I couldn’t pronounce the name.

Verdict: However you say it, the Granducale panettone hit more right notes than Raffaella Carrà.

3) Longo’s Panettone, $6.49

Longo’s is a grocery store for rich people. Every time I’m in there, I always wonder, “Who would pay this much for Crispy Minis?” Even though their brand-name panettone was reasonably priced, would it be “rich” in taste?

Longo’s high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes:“This one is more bread-like,” my mother-in-law said. “Is this the homemade one?” (By this point, I already sensed she was getting nervous about mine.) 

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

Both my mother-in-law and husband agreed the flavour was good, but the cake was a bit dry. They commented that there was a floral aftertaste. I thought it was a bit dry but my piece had a lot of raisins in it. Sometimes, it’s the simple things.

 Verdict: Longo’s, you’ve got a longo way to go with your panettone. 

4) Bauducco Panettone Specialty Cake, $7.99

Like the Granducale brand, this panettone also came in a box. This brand is pretty easy to find as well. I got mine at my neighbourhood Valu-Mart, a place that doesn’t exactly scream “quality panettone.”

Bauducco high definition interior shot

Tasting notes: “This looks dry to me,” my mother-in-law said. “Is there chocolate in here?” (There wasn’t.) “It’s not bad, but not something I’d recommend. It’s okay.” (Believe me when I say that “It’s okay” is sometimes as close to a compliment as you can get from an Italian when it comes to their food.) I thought the texture was good, but it didn’t have a lot of flavour. There was a bit of an aftertaste, like packaging. 

Verdict: Bauducco, you didn’t exactly succo. But you’re not helping Valu-Mart’s reputation either.

5) San Paolo Panettone Traditional Italian Cake, $3.99

At just under four bucks, this was the cheapest of the panettones. I appreciated the sophisticated blue-and-gold bag and wondered if this panettone could be the underdog of the competition.

Pan Paolo high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “I don’t like this one at all!” my mother-in-law exclaimed. “It doesn’t look like panettone. You can taste the flower!” (At first, I interpreted this as “flour.” Things got a bit confusing at this stage.) 

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

My husband agreed and said it had a processed, artificial taste. I thought it was a little dry and had a lingering aftertaste. Like after you eat it, and then exhale, you can taste the smell in your nose. You know what I mean?

Verdict: San Paolo, your bag is the only tasteful thing about you.

6) Aurora Panettone, $8.99

Like Milano, Aurora is an Italian brand familiar to most people. And this one came in a box, too. It had a smart carrying ribbon attached, so you can carry your panettone like a purse. Provided you’re wearing red shoes. Which, thankfully, I was.

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Aurora high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “Look how soft it is!” my mother-in-law proclaimed before diving in. “It’s delicious. This is a go!”

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

Both my mother-in-law and husband agreed this panettone was light and fluffy. “I’d spend the money on this one,” she said. “I need another piece,” my husband said. High praise from the Italians indeed. I thought it was very light and fluffy with a buttery flavour. This panettone pulled all the punches.

Verdict: Aurora, you’re going for gold (en).

7) Vergani Il Panettone Di Milano, $39.90

Eataly is a specialty store that sells all things Italian. It’s ridiculously overpriced but I always find myself in there, paying $12 for a packet of pasta. “You’re wasting your money!” I can hear my mother-in-law saying. “Don’t be so stupid!” So it was the first place I thought to buy my expensive panettone. This Vergani brand came in a nice tin, which I’ll use to store my craft supplies. Still, I wasn’t paying forty bucks for something to put pipe cleaners in. I was paying for the panettone. So how did this gourmet one stack up? 

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Vergani high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes:“This one looks good,” my husband said as soon as I put their slices down. “The colour is beautiful.” But looks aren’t everything. “It’s not the best one,” my mother-in-law said after tasting it. “It’s okay, but there’s a flavour I’m not crazy about.” (It could’ve been the flower/flour.) Personally, I thought it was a bit dry, although the raisins seemed juicier. But not forty dollars juicier.

Verdict: Given the amount of “meh” vibes, my mother-in-law was vindicated. Just because something is expensive doesn’t mean it’s the best. 

8) Il Briano di Francisco Panettone, $20 (give or take)

Okay, this wasn’t the actual brand name, although it has a nice ring to it. I spent two weeks searching for a recipe and two frigging days making this panettone. And I had to say, it looked pretty impressive. Would the Italians be dazzled by my homemade efforts? 

Homemade high definition interior shot.

Tasting notes: “This is Brian’s,” both said in unison with a tone of dread as soon as I put their pieces down. They took a tentative bite and then started laughing. Like, howling. I held onto a weak hope that this could be an expression of joy. “This is a loaf of bread,” my mother-in-law said once she regained her composure. “There’s not enough fluid or flavour. This does not resemble a panettone, Brian. I’m sorry, but I have to be truthful. Yours needs improvement.” My husband added, “It might be okay toasted.” Was this an attempt at a compliment? When I tasted it, I had to reluctantly agree. Compared to the other panettones, mine was dry, like stale Wonderbread with raisins. Speaking of, why don’t they make Wonderbread with raisins?

Verdict: I may have lost two days I’ll never get back, but at least I gained a new loofah.

And the winner is…

It all came down to Aurora vs. Granducale. Both my mother-in-law and husband wanted to revisit both. After an intense second tasting with a lot of hand gesturing, Aurora was crowned the winner by both with Granducale coming in at a close second. Funnily enough, I ended up picking the same two as my top picks, but ultimately decided on Granducale.

And there you have it! Did we miss a brand that you’d recommend? Post a comment below and let the world know! Or, at least, the three people who read this blog. This is important information to share. And if you want more seasonal taste tests, check out the eggnog taste test I did last year.

Whether you’re Italian or not, I hope you enjoy a little peace and panettone this holiday season. And don’t forget those lentils on New Year’s Day.

Paper Bag Cornucopia

Recently, I came across a copy of Woman’s Day “Best Ideas for Christmas” magazine, published in 1976. It featured recipes like Avocado Ring with Crab-Meat Dressing, as well as an assortment of holiday craft ideas (never underestimate the versatility of a paper towel roll). 

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This originally cost $1.10. I paid $2. Inflation is the worst.

One of those crafts was a paper bag cornucopia. I guess since American Thanksgiving is so close to Christmas, the Woman’s Day editors figured they’d kill two birds with one stone. Or is that two turkeys?

Here’s the spread, complete with a diagram.

According to the internet, cornucopias date back to Greek mythology and were made with actual goat horns. Sorry, Zeus, but you won’t be seeing that on my Thanksgiving table. LOL! But I thought a paper bag version seemed environmentally friendly and I could only imagine the ooos and ahhs of my guests when they found out who had lovingly made the cornucopia resting in front of them.

Finding paper bags was easy as they’re everywhere these days. As a child of the seventies, I get nostalgic seeing grocery stores using paper bags again. Here’s hoping they also bring back Mug-o-Lunch. 

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As low-tech as you can get.

To make your cornucopia, take a paper bag and scrunch it into a point at the bottom and secure in place with tape. Then fold back the open lip by about two inches. 

I’m about to go on a dark, dark journey.

Next, cut long strips of three-inch-wide paper and place some strips of newspaper inside. Fold over and glue the three-inch strips to create “ropes,” which you wind around your paper bag, gluing it down and shaping the bag as you go.

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I'm coming in at hour four by this point.

A word of caution: Like any work of art, this cornucopia takes a long time to make, especially when wrapping the ropes around the bag. It’s a good test of your patience as well as making you question why you’re spending a Sunday evening making a paper bag cornucopia when there are so many other things you could be doing. I recommend keeping a gin-and-tonic within reach.

I could say what this looks like. But I try to keep it classy.

After several hours, you’ll have your paper bag cornucopia. Now all that’s left is to fill it with nature’s bounty. 

My Sistine Chapel of paper bags.

Now that I consider it, “cornucopia” sounds like some kind of foot condition – and how festive is that? So I’m renaming my masterpiece a “horn-o-hopia” because who couldn’t use a little more hope this holiday? You could also call it a “horny-hopia,” but I’d wait until the relatives go to bed before you bring that version out. 

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You can also paint this grey and call it an elephant head.

There are several things you can do with your cornucopia following Thanksgiving. Flip it on its end and use it as a witch’s hat for Halloween. Or give it to an elderly person to use as a hearing aid. Whatever you do, please don’t wash your cornucopia. 

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Mother Nature’s bounty.

Regardless of how you celebrate Thanksgiving, I hope your horn-o-hopia is overflowing all year long.

Lunch Box Pastries Taste Test

For most people, elementary school was a time of learning, exploration, and growth. For me, it was about the joy of finding a cellophane-wrapped Twinkie in my lunch box. Or a Hostess Cupcake. Or a Wagon Wheel. If grades were given out for glucose-fructose and guar gum consumption, I would’ve been the smartest kid in class. 

But I wondered how these lunch box pastries would hold up all these years later. And I also wondered: What would a master baker have to say about them? So I enlisted CBC’s The Great Canadian Baking Show finalist, Colin Asuncion, to help me out. Not only is Colin a talented baker, he’s also a fantastic singer and actor, and works as a marketing professional. We’re talking a quadruple threat of talent. (I first met Colin when he performed in my play, Box 4901. He brought homemade cookies to rehearsals. Needless to say, I fell in love.)

Colin and I separately taste-tested and ranked 10 store-bought pastries, most of which were by the Vachon company. This Québec-based company has been around since 1923 and corner the commercial pastry market here in Canada. But we also invited Hostess and Little Debbie to the party. 

So which lunch box pastry creamed the competition? And which pastry fell flat? Our investigative report follows.

Billot Log

Brian: I have zero memory of these growing up. I also don’t know if the word “billot” should rhyme with “pillow” or “thought.” In any case, I’ve seen a lot of glowing pink logs in my day, but these took the cake. Literally. I was also a bit hesitant as shredded coconut always gets stuck in my teeth. 

Colin: I love the look of this thing. It’s bright, fun, and flirty. It looks like a strawberry coconut roulade and I am HERE for that journey. I had never heard of these before this test so I’m excited to dig in. 

Tasting notes

Brian: The Billot Log is basically a neon jelly roll. It was moist and had the right amount of squish. The layer of jelly provided a tangy contrast to the vanilla cake and there was a decent blanket of cream throughout. This was like a ramped-up Twinkie. The only downside? Picking coconut out of my teeth for the rest of the day.

Colin: I LOVE IT. The coconut smell is strong and delightful. I was expecting the cake inside to be pink but it’s actually a classic yellow cake. What a twist. And speaking of twist, the roulade has a nice tight swirl. I love the texture of the coconut coating and the cake itself is decent. I’d like more flavour out of the jam but that’s my only qualm. This is a real winner. 

Twinkie

Brian: When I was a kid, I’d get excited whenever the Twinkie the Kid cowboy commercial came on TV. Maybe it had more to do with the cowboy than the Twinkie. In any case, when it comes to lunch box pastries, you can’t get more iconic than a cream-filled Twinkie. But is that reputation earned?

Colin: This was the most iconic lunch box pastry of my childhood and yet I rarely ate them. My mother instead opted for the ½ Moon for my packed desserts, which always felt kind of alternative. At the time, I wished she would just buy Twinkies so I could be more mainstream. 

Tasting notes

Brian: For starters, I don’t remember Twinkies being this small. And the cream filling left a coating on my tongue like the cheap frosting they put on grocery store birthday cakes. The cake was dry and didn’t have a lot of flavour. I’m sorry, pardner, but it’s time this Twinkie moseyed off into the sunset.

Colin: I can now say with confidence that my mother made the right choice in avoiding Twinkies. The yellow fingie smells overwhelmingly sweet upon opening the package. The cake is very dense. The cream filling is pleasantly marshmallowy but the entire confection leaves a film at the back of my throat and an unpleasant aftertaste. I don’t mean to be dramatic, but I hate it. 

Hostess Cupcakes

Brian: These little brown pucks have been knocking around in lunch boxes since kids rode donkeys to school. An added bonus is that you get two in every package. While the swirl of white frosting is the hallmark of a Hostess Cupcake, one of mine looked like someone on the frosting line sneezed mid-swirl.

Colin: I mean, are these really cupcakes? Because they don’t look like cupcakes to me. I always hated the aesthetic – like two-bite brownies that someone tried to gussy up with a chocolate dip and haphazard squiggle of white. The prospect of eating one does not spark joy. 

Tasting notes

Brian: These little cakes were damp and chocolate-y although who couldn’t use another squirt of cream in their cupcake? Not the best, but nothing to complain about either. I was going to save the cupcake with the screwed-up icing and sell it on eBay as an art piece, but my husband ate it. There goes my early retirement.

Colin: I like the density of the cake, but that’s about it. It tastes stale, overly sweet (trend alert), and like imitation chocolate flavouring. The miscellaneous white cream filling is unpleasant. I wasn’t a fan of these as a kid and I’m not a fan now. 

Ah Caramel!

Brian: That disc on top of the Ah Caramel! reminded me of when they put things like frisbees in the backs of mice to grow skin over it. And I’ve always thought the name was a bit weird. Are you supposed to scream the “ah?” Or is more of a sigh? Or is it more like the sound a scientist makes when they discover how to grow a human ear on a mouse’s back?

Colin: This is the one I was REALLY dreading. I have memories of swapping my ½ Moon to try a friend’s Ah Caramel! and being immediately consumed with regret after the first bite. I dislike the look of these – like a large Lego piece that has been put in the microwave and covered in brown paint. But looks aren’t everything. Let’s see if I still hate this as an adult. 

Tasting notes

Brian: While the caramel didn’t ooze out like the box photo would have me believe, the Ah Caramel! delivered a multi-tiered punch. You get the sponge cake, the ring of frosting and the caramel filling inside of that. Top that off with your chocolate-y coating and you’ve got four times the flavour. While a little sweet for me, it still tasted ah-mazing.

Colin: I don’t hate it, but I don’t like it. I will say that the square of cake is neat and tidy, but it is dry and ridiculously sweet (again, trend alert). Then you have a disc of white frosting AND caramel, making this a complete sugar overload. This isn’t the worst of the lunch box pastries, but if this was presented to me at the end of a meal, I would gladly skip dessert. 

Brian: Remind me to never have Colin over for dinner.

1/2 Moon

Brian: ½ Moons always seemed boring to me. Why have something vanilla when it could be dipped in brown wax? But maybe I was being too judgemental. And I wondered how the ½ Moon would hold up against its nearest counterpart – the Twinkie?

Colin: This is the snack cake I ate most as a kid. It is pure nostalgia for me which means the stakes are extremely high. Will I enjoy this cake as an adult? Will my childhood palate betray me? Let’s find out. 

Tasting notes

Brian: This ½ Moon was a little bit of heaven. Simple, predictable, and with zero surprises. In other words, exactly like my middle-aged personality. And, yes, the ½ Moon kicked Twinkie’s butt. The cake had better flavour (just look at the golden crust!), it was moister, and it had a tastier cream filling. ½ Moon, you’ve got me swinging from the stars.

 Colin: This is it, baby. It’s no wonder why my mother selected this as my most frequent lunch box dessert. The cake smells great, is nice and soft, and has a lovely natural colour. It actually tastes like REAL cake, unlike most of the other confections in this test. It has a bit more salt, counterbalancing the sweet filling nicely. The overall flavour is simultaneously delicate and decadent. I love. I stan. This is the moment. This is the one. 

Wagon Wheel

Brian: Like Flintstones vitamins, Wagon Wheels have been a staple in kids’ diets for generations. I have fond memories of them. That chocolate, marshmallow, and graham cookie combo could make the worst school days seem a bit brighter. Then again, I also used to dip my finger in Jell-O powder as a snack, so my standards were low. 

Colin: Yet another dessert I never ate as a kid. It looks neat and tidy and I like the size of it. The chocolate is nice and firm. Upon initial examination, I think I’m going to like this. 

Tasting notes

Brian: Dang if these didn’t shrink! I know my hands are bigger now, but these wheels looked more like buttons! And mine resembled a melted top hat. In terms of taste, the Wagon Wheel fell flat. A dry cookie sandwich with a marshmallow centre that had more bounce than a mattress, the Wagon Wheel is best left to pioneer times. 

Colin: I did not like this. The chocolate is straight up bad and the cookie tastes like, well, nothing. The marshmallow is decent – nice and bouncy – but that’s not enough to save the Wagon Wheel. I had high hopes, but sadly this is not the one. 

Passion Flakie

Brian: As a kid, I had a very specific way of eating Passion Flakies. I’d separate the top and bottom layers, pick off the flaky crust and then lick the whipped cream/jelly filling from the bottom. I suppose it’s no wonder most kids avoided me at lunch. Of all the lunch box pastries, Flakie always seemed the most sophisticated (despite how I ate them). But would that sophistication hold up?

Colin: Along with the ½ Moon, the Passion Flakie made regular appearances in my lunch bag growing up. I always looked forward to eating one of these lil cuties. 

Tasting notes

Brian: The first thing I got was the feathery crumpling of that sugar-crusted top layer, followed by the hit of cream and raspberry/apple jelly, before my teeth sunk into the soft and chewy bottom layer. A hands-down winner. Passion Flakie, I wish I held up as good as you over the years.

Colin: The Passion Flakie is smaller than I remember, but I guess all these treats are. The pastry itself exhibits decent lamination (layers) but is quite pale and has no flavour. The jam flavour is not discernable as any specific fruit – it just tastes generically sweet. The mouth feel is simultaneously gummy and dry. I’m not mad. I’m just disappointed.

Jos Louis

Brian: In all my enriched wheat years, I never noticed that the “Jos” in Jos Louis is spelled like that. Apparently, it’s named after two of the Vachon sons, Joseph and Louis. (In case that wasn’t clear.) These chocolate-y covered cakes are coveted by kids and adults alike, but how would it hold up against the other pastries?

Colin: This was another classic treat when I was growing up, and another dessert that I rarely ate. It never really appealed to me – didn’t look interesting or appetizing, and it still doesn’t. 

Tasting notes

Brian: The first thing I noticed was the reddish colour of the cake. Was it supposed to be red velvet, I wondered? Colour aside, the cake was soft with a thick layer of cream. Jos, you’re a classic for good reason, however you spell your name.

Colin: As Brian notes, the Jos Louis cake is borderline red velvet but not quite there. It’s overly sweet, strangely soft, and the chocolate coating doesn’t have a great flavour. The Jos Louis isn’t awful, but I’d rather have a Mae West. 

Frosted Fudge Cake

Brian: I’m not overly familiar with the Little Debbie brand, but judging by her picture on the box, she must be about 103 by now.

Still, the name alone was enough to pique my curiosity. I mean, Frosted Fudge Cakes? That’s like a haiku, less a few syllables. Could Little Debbie be the underdog in a straw hat?  

Colin: This looks like a candy bar. I’m worried. 

Tasting notes

Brian: While I appreciated the artistic lattice design on the top of the cake, Little Debbie didn’t deliver. I found it dry and not as chocolate-y as its nearest cousin, the Hostess cupcake. The chocolate coating also tasted too waxy for me. Sorry, Little Debbie, but you’ll have to do better if you want to play in the big leagues. 

Colin: OK, this is quite good. Chocolate on chocolate on chocolate. The cake and filling have a nice cocoa flavour and aren’t overly sweet (which is what I was worried about). And speaking of the interior, this is the only chocolate cream filling in this test and it is by far the best filling in this test – sorry, miscellaneous white cream. The only thing I would change is the chocolate coating – a darker chocolate would provide better flavour balance. 

Mae West

Brian: I’ve come across a lot of tasty broads in my day, but never a Mae West. I guess Mae is like a Jos Louis, only it’s got a custard filling and a vanilla cake. That got me thinking. The Vachon people need to invent a chocolate cake with a custard filling and call it the Mae Louis. 

Colin: I had also never heard of these. It looks identical to a Jos Louis, if a bit darker. The aesthetic is sad. It’s like a cookie sat on top of a rice cake and was spray painted brown. I’m not super excited to eat this. 

Brian: While Mae’s looks didn’t exude Hollywood glamour, she tasted like a million bucks. The custard was a nice change from all the cream I’d been inhaling, but I didn’t think it had much flavour. I preferred it to the Jos Louis, but then again, I’ve always been a sucker for a dame with good taste.

Colin: The dominant flavour is the chocolate from the coating and that’s not a bad thing at all. I like that it’s semisweet chocolate because the vanilla cake and filling are plenty sweet on their own. The textural contrast between the soft interior and hard chocolate shell gives the Mae West a dynamic mouth feel. I’m into it. 

Okay, so here are our individual rankings, worst to best:

Brian

10. Wagon Wheel

9. Frosted Fudge Cake

8. Twinkie

7. Billot Log

6. Hostess Cupcakes

5. Jos Louis

4. Mae West

3. ½ Moon

2. Ah Caramel!

1. Flakie

Colin

10. Hostess Cupcake

9. Twinkie

8. Ah Caramel!

7. Wagon Wheel

6. Flakie

5. Jos Louis

4. Mae West

3. Frosted Fudge Cake

2. Billot Log

1. ½ Moon

While Colin and I slap it out over Little Debbie, feel free to leave your own comments about which you feel is the best lunch box pastry. So long as it’s not a Twinkie.

And remember: A lunch box without a cellophane-wrapped pastry isn’t lunch. It’s sadness.

Thanks for reading! Check out Colin’s Instagram (if you want to see some spectacular real-life pastries) as well as his YouTube channel and his Twitter to keep up to date on everything he’s got cookin’. Meanwhile, I’m going to keep working on this appetizer platter before attempting to squeeze into my new GWGs. Wish me luck.

Easter Bunny Taste Test

For some people, Easter represents a time of rebirth, redemption and hope. For me, it’s about chocolate. Specifically, chowing down on chocolate bunnies while wearing my Easter bonnet.

But with so many varieties and price ranges to choose from, which bunny is the best? 

I bought 13 commercially available bunnies and conducted blind taste tests with the help of a fellow taster. I only tested milk chocolate and only bunnies. In other words, no Elsa from Frozen. And I only bought solid bunnies, with a few exceptions. Personally, I’ve never understood hollow bunnies. Why choose air when you could have chocolate in its place?

Anyway, here’s photographic proof of my hardcore evaluation process.

In my evaluations, I took into account the design of each bunny, but it ultimately came down to taste. 

So, which bunny hopped to the top? Here are my rankings, from worst to best. 

13) Palmer $1.25, 156 grams

I’d never heard of this brand before. Then again, I bought it at the dollar store – a place where brands are always a mystery to me. But even cheap chocolate is still chocolate, right? Hold on. I just read “milk chocolate flavoured” on the package.

Design: This bunny looked really stiff. Like it was having back issues on account of carrying around that basket. But there were tulips at the bottom, so that was a nice touch. 

Tasting Notes: This tasted like Duncan Hines chocolate frosting. Like literally opening a tub and eating it by the spoonful. (We’ve all been there, so don’t judge.) Needless to say, this budget bunny was too cloyingly sweet with little chocolate flavour. You’re better off sticking to frosting.

12) McCormicks $2.00, 165 grams

I always associate McCormicks with pastel Easter eggs filled with white gunk. (Even though they’re made by Dare.) You know the ones I mean. Those eggs are Easter’s equivalent of molasses chews at Halloween. Every single McCormicks bunny was broken except for this one. Giving a decapitated chocolate rabbit to kids can send a confusing message.

Design: I appreciated that the bunny was wearing a button down and textured pants. It’s hard to find rabbits with a good fashion sense. But this bunny’s facial expression was too intense. Obviously, he was wired on his own sugar content.

Tasting Notes: My taste tester and I both found the McCormicks bunny too sweet, gritty and lacking any real chocolate flavour. It was almost as disappointing as hunting for Easter eggs and all you find are the ones with white gunk inside. 

11) Great Value $2.98, 425 grams

I got this at Walmart and it was the biggest rabbit of the bunch, coming in at a whopping 425 grams! That’s great value IMHO. But just because something’s big doesn’t mean it’s good.

Design: The bunny’s expression was a little juvenile for my liking. And I didn’t know what he was looking at. A cobweb on my ceiling? A ghostly apparition? Or was he rolling his eyes, as if to say, “You’re a middle-aged man taste-testing bunnies and I’m the one who’s juvenile?”

Tasting Notes: This one was a bit gritty. While not bad, it definitely carried a single note. And that note was sugar. But hey, if you’re a kid looking to eat 425 grams of chocolate and I don’t have to babysit you, go for it. 

10) Bunny Fields $2.98, 175 grams

Walmart had a bunch of varieties of this brand, including a crispy rice version. Again, why are you taking up space with other things when that space could be filled with more chocolate? There was a maze on the back of the box to find the “EggSquisites” Egg. I don’t even know where to start with that spelling. 

Design: Classic, but a little uninspired. 

Notes: My taste tester thought it was pretty good, but I tasted carboard packaging. And if I wanted to eat cardboard, I would’ve just eaten the box instead. Sadly, not an eggskwizzit bunny by any means. 

9) Mr. Solid $3.48, 150 grams

Clearly this bunny’s appeal is all in its ears. And speaking as someone who is ear endowed, I appreciate seeing my kind represented. Having said that, no one has ever referred to me as “Mr. Solid.” 

Design: Yes, the ears were a cute feature, but Mr. Solid looked like that uncle who won’t stop telling corny jokes during family dinners. And it appeared like he was holding something behind his back. It could’ve been a Q-Tip. 

Tasting Notes: Similar to Bunny Fields, my taste tester liked this one and thought it tasted “velvety.” Me, I tasted cardboard. Again! “Something about it doesn’t feel right,” I said. Then again, I was on my fifth bunny. There were a lot of things inside me that weren’t feeling right. 

8) Caranby Sweet $2.00, 350 grams

I got this at my local No Frills, which isn’t exactly known as a place to buy quality chocolate. But at two bucks for 350 grams, it was a chance I was willing to take. 

Design: By far the best design of all the bunnies. This rabbit was decked out! He was sporting a bowtie, a shirt with a carrot on the pocket, a bouquet of flowers in one hand (or is that one paw?) and an Easter basket in the other. He was even wearing shorts! Although it’s seasonably too early for that.

Tasting Notes: This one was smooth but way too sweet for me. It was like eating a giant foil egg. Sadly, this bunny was all style but no substance. Having said that, if he came out with his own clothing line, I’d buy it. 

7) Russell Stover $1.25, 37 grams

Coming in at a measly 37 grams, this was the smallest bunny of them all. If I got this on Easter morning, I’d be packing my bags. I always associate Russell Stover with elderly great aunts. You could always count on them to bring out a box of assorted chocolates after a dinner of simmered ham and a lime Jell-O salad with shredded carrots.

Design: I got out my microscope, but I couldn’t see anything. 

Tasting Notes: While not the best, this bunny was creamy, smooth and I definitely got more of a chocolate vibe than sugar. But they should call this an Easter Gnat. 

6) Hershey’s Kisses $7.99, 170 grams

It was clever marketing to add the bonus Hershey Kisses inside the box, even though at this price y’aren’t getting nothing for free. Hershey’s is famous for its chocolate so I had high expectations. 

Design: This foil-wrapped bunny turned into a dud once I stripped off its gold wrapper. And while I liked that it had an Easter basket full of Kisses, I’ve seen more expressive faces on an episode of Botched.

Tasting Notes: My taste-tester thought it was sweet and smooth, but I didn’t discern much chocolate flavour. It was a suitable bunny, but given its moniker, it should’ve delivered more. 

5) Frank $3.99, 300 grams

While I associate Canadian Tire with furnace filters, socket sets and pine-scented car air-fresheners, it’s not the first place I think to buy Easter chocolate. But I figured I’d give their Frank brand a try.

Design: This is the classic Easter bunny I remember from my childhood. It was thick, dark, and had a satisfying weight. The only thing missing was the single candy eyeball.

Tasting Notes: I was pleasantly surprised by Frank. It had a rich, chocolate flavour. It was almost borderline semi-sweet. And not a hint of pine air freshener. Apparently, there’s a lot more to Canadian Tire than tires. 

4) Our Finest $2.98, 100 grams

I got this at Walmart and it’s clearly their attempt to snag some of the Lindt bunny’s lustre. Personally, I thought this bunny was a lot cuter. Look at that face! Totes adorbs. As if that genuine pearl wasn’t enough of a selling point.  

Design: Similar to Hershey’s, this bunny fell flat when stripped of its flashy outer layer. But I thought it had more defined detailing. You’re also getting some substantial ear action. 

Tasting Notes: Our Finest was silky, milky and carried a hint of vanilla. And at this price, it’s a steal. Unfortunately, the pearl is a choking hazard. I’m speaking from experience. 

3) Laura Secord $8.99, 200 grams

Growing up, Laura Secord Easter Eggs were black holes of sugar. And they were packaged in boxes filled with little strips of crimped paper – an excellent material for apple head doll hair. But how did Laura’s bunny hold up?

Design: This was the classiest bunny of the bunch. It was a good size, life-like (well, as life-like as a chocolate bunny can be) and had a certain stoicism that made me want to salute it before I bit into its ears.

Tasting Notes: True to its design, Laura’s bunny had a sophisticated and layered chocolate flavour. It wasn’t as sweet as the other bunnies or overly creamy and it had a bit of a smoky taste. The only thing missing? The paper strips. 

2) Lindt $6.47, 100 grams

When it comes to style and sophistication, you can’t beat a Lindt bunny. Joan Collins is probably eating one and tossing the gold wrapper out of her limousine window at this very minute. Speaking of the gold wrapper, people might consider it the selling point, but the red ribbon with the bell makes a nice scrunchy.

Design: Good lord! I’ve disrobed a few things in my day but never have I been so disappointed! This bunny might appeal to you if you’re one of those single-chair-in-an-empty-room types, but this rabbit was too minimalist for me. 

Tasting Notes: Both my taster and I guessed this was the Lindt bunny, even with our blindfolds on. It was buttery, smooth and the chocolate spread across my mouth like a velvet blanket. Bland design aside, Lindt is a definite classic.

1)    Purdys $16.50, 300 grams

Holy crap! This bunny set me back almost 20 bucks! If someone had ever bought me a 20-dollar bunny when I was a kid. . . well, never mind. No adult ever thought I was worth a 20-dollar anything. So did the Purdys bunny put its money where my mouth is? (I’m not sure that even makes sense, but given its placement, you know the end result.)

Design: I have to say, this was one beautiful bunny. The basket on his back had a nice weave design and even the handles were textured. Although it didn’t seem like there was much in his basket. Unless it was an ostrich egg.

Tasting notes: My taste-tester and I noted a pleasant bitterness. It took longer to melt in our mouths, but when it did, it gave way to a creamy and smooth texture. It wasn’t overly sweet and had a great depth of flavour. 

Just like my Tomato Sauce taste test, why does the most expensive thing always come out on top? It’s so annoying. My mid-range pick is Frank. And, if you’re looking for cheap and cheerful, save yourself $3.47 and go for Our Finest over Lindt. Just don’t eat the pearl.

If you’re wondering what I did with all the leftover chocolate, I made a batch of Bunny Parts Cookies.

See you on the bunny trail!

Eggnog Taste Test

For better or worse, eggnog is a divisive holiday beverage. (Even more divisive than Coffee Mate’s Frosted Gingerbread.) Hate it or love it, there’s no middle ground. But what turns people off eggnog? The nutmeg? The phlegmy texture? The raw egg origins? Or maybe it’s that, on the French side of the carton, it reads “lait de poule” which translates in English to “chicken milk.”

Yeah, that could be it.

But does eggnog deserve more love in this cold, cruel world? And, if you’re willing to give it another try, where should you start?

When I recently saw author Amy Jones tweet about her love of eggnog, I reached out to see if she might be open to doing a joint taste test. I was thrilled when she said yes, so here’s our investigative report.

We blind taste-tested seven varieties of eggnog, evaluating them on colour, consistency and taste. We did not go for any of that flavoured crap, like peppermint, chocolate or macha. Nor did we add rum. No one needs to hear “thissizjusgreat” after the fifth taste test.

What did we learn? Well, the divisiveness over eggnog is loud and clear even among its fans. Needless to say, the results of this study are pretty controversial. 

So without further delay, let’s get down to business. Overall rankings will follow at the end.

President’s Choice The World’s Best Eggnog $2.97

Talk about some big claims! The world’s best? Really, Dave Nicol? And how could anyone really know for sure unless you tried every single eggnog in the world? But the black carton did lend this brand an air of sophistication. So how did it taste?

Amy says: I really wanted not to like this. How can you root for something that calls *itself* “world’s best?” But it might have been my favourite—I kept going back to it, even after I had been drinking eggnog for so long my tongue had acquired that shrivelly, just-out-of-the-bathtub feeling I always get when I eat/drink too many sweet things. I thought it had a nice strong nutmeg flavour, and I could actually taste the “touch of rum” it claims to have on the carton—it even kind of looked like it had some rum swirled through it (all of which made me just want to add more rum). It was also a bit sweeter than I normally would like, but it was balanced so well with the spices and creaminess that I didn’t really mind it. Damn you, Galen Weston! Colour: A swirly, creamy cloud of deliciousness.

Brian says: At first sight, this one was the thickest of the bunch. It was a soft, creamy yellow and gave me a whiff of rum. In terms of taste, it was creamy, but not overly sweet and provided a nice richness. I wouldn’t call this the “world’s best” but definitely a contender in certain parts of the province. Although calling it “Southwestern Ontario’s Best Eggnog” loses some of the sizzle. 

Compliments $2.50

Compliments is Sobey’s version of President’s Choice. I was a little underwhelmed by the packaging. There’s not a single adjective on the carton. Not one “rich,” not one “creamy.” And eggnog is spelled as two words, but it should be one, right? Grammar police, I think it’s time to make an arrest in Aisle 7. 

Amy says: This one was so thin and flavourless it felt a bit like I was drinking sweet, watery skim milk, which is never good. Plus, the colour was super off-putting. Like, did they even put any spices in it at all? Who knows? All in all, pretty bad, but not the worst, just because the flavour was pretty much non-existent rather than being *actually bad.* Colour: Minion tears

Brian says: My nostrils detected a nice, subtle hint of rum and the colour was a deeper yellow, which bolstered my expectations. But it was very thin and too sweet for me. There was too much milky going on and not enough noggy. And there wasn’t enough nutmeg for my tastes. I wish I could give this brand more of a “compliment.”

Neilson $1.97

This is the tried-and-true brand I remember as a child. I don’t think the packaging has changed since the seventies. And, in case any Generation Z types are reading this, yes, we travelled by horse and sleigh in the seventies. We also wrapped our presents in bark and all of our toys required 18 “D” batteries. So would this classic hold up?

Amy says: This eggnog is the reason that people think they don’t like eggnog. Despite the fact that it had the cutest carton, it was way too sweet and eggy, with an unpleasant aftertaste, and had that mucous-y mouthfeel and colour that I think really turns people off (I mean, I’m turned off just typing those words). Colour: Phlegm drying on the sidewalk

Brian says: This was very light in colour and had little aroma and seemed a bit thin. But overall, it had a very good taste. It was rich, had a nice thickness to it and just the right amount of nutmegginess and sweetness. It charged my batteries, all 18 of them.

Panache $2.50

This was a new brand for me. I was excited although upon further investigation, I realized it was another Sobey’s product (note the spelling of eggnog). I think it had the nicest packaging. That starburst design was giving me a serious Bing Crosby in a Santa hat vibe. But was Panache all style with no substance?

Amy says: I had never tried this eggnog before, and I thought it was fairly middling. It was sweeter than I generally prefer, but not the sweetest; thicker than some, but not the thickest. It had an okay flavour, but nothing really stood out—other than the colour, which was a bit on the unnaturally yellow side for me. Overall, it was a real middle-of-the-road experience. Colour: Amoxicillin

Brian says: I thought this was a pretty shade of yellow. I’d want to paint my bedroom this colour, but it didn’t give me much hope in terms of that depth of flavour I was searching for. It was too watery for my palate and left behind a chalky aftertaste. Panache, I think you need more substance and less style. Also, I had to google Amoxicillin. Amy’s vocabulary is much better than mine. I won’t be playing Scrabble with her any time soon.

President’s Choice Rich & Creamy $3.47

Any dairy beverage that doesn’t need to be refrigerated is weird. I mean, what kind of preservatives are they putting in there so it can stay room temperature? There are two other varieties: Candy cane and chocolate. Both are bastard children and should be avoided at all costs, IMHO. Was there a difference between this version and the President’s Choice World’s Best? 

Amy says: This is the eggnog I usually buy, and I was interested to see how it held up against the others. It was definitely the thickest and creamiest, and the only one that seemed “frothy.” It smelled more nutmeggy than some of the others, although I thought it didn’t really follow through with the taste. It was less sweet than the others, but the flavour also was not as deep. I was a little disturbed by the fact that while the other nogs had an expiry date within a couple of weeks, this one was best before April. Also, interestingly, the first time I encountered it in the store, it was actually on the shelf, not in the refrigerator section (although now they *do* keep it in the refrigerator section, perhaps just to keep people from freaking out about it being on the shelf? Or maybe they changed the recipe.) Anyway, all this makes me kind of wonder what is actually in it, which is never a good thing. Colour: Coffee cream that’s been left out on the counter a little too long

Brian says: This was very pale in colour and almost looked more like cream to me than eggnog. There was very little aroma. In terms of taste, it was like drinking vanilla cake batter. Which I’m not opposed to, I mean, we’ve all been there, right? I just don’t want to be drinking liquid Duncan Hines when I want eggnog. 

Wild cards!

Despite our best efforts, Amy and I weren’t able to find all the same brands. So I taste-tested a sixth brand, Beatrice, while she taste-tested a seventh, Sealtest. (I later found out it’s available at Wal-Mart, but hello?!? I’m not going there at this time of the year.) So here are our individual evaluations for each.

Beatrice (I don’t remember the price, but I’m guessing three bucks or so.)

Brian says: I got this at my local Rabba. It was a Friday night, I was lonely and, like a lot of lonely people at Rabba on a Friday night, this was an impulse buy. But would I regret this?

This had the darkest yellow colour of all the brands. I’d even venture to say it was golden. There was a strong nutmeggy aroma and, in terms of consistency, it had a nice balance between thick and thin. It was full of flavour, with even a hint of caramel on the finishing notes. I suppose this makes sense. Beatrice makes dairy products, after all. It just goes to show that not everything you buy on a Friday night at Rabba is something you regret the next morning.

Sealtest $2.18

Amy says: Sealtest is not Beatrice. Or... maybe it is. If I learned anything during this eggnog taste test it’s that the world of Canadian dairy conglomerates is extremely convoluted and I may never understand it. In any case, I bought this Sealtest nog in a panic at Walmart (because how else does one ever shop at Walmart, really) and decided, for the sake of thoroughness, to add it to my roster.

I was surprised by how much I liked this one. It had the best smell, and it followed through in the flavour, which was a good balance of cream, rum, and nutmeg, with a pleasant vanilla-y aftertaste. It was eggy, but in a good way. The only drawback was it was surprisingly yellow—I can’t help it, I drink with my eyes first! Colour: Melted canary yellow crayons

And here are our rankings!

Amy

6th Place: Neilson

5th Place: Compliments

4th Place: Panache

3rd Place: PC Rich & Creamy

2nd Place: Sealtest

1st Place: PC World’s Best

Brian

6th Place: PC Rich & Creamy

5th Place: Panache

4th Place: Compliments

3rd Place: PC World’s Best 

2nd Place: Neilson

1st Place: Beatrice 

The only thing that Amy and I agreed on is the relative crappiness of Compliments and Panache. The rest is pretty varied. Which just goes to show: One person’s eggnog is another person’s chicken milk. Or something along those lines. 

Thank you for your help, Amy! You were a real eggnog trooper and I always appreciate the hard work of my fellow investigative journalists. You can find out more about Amy and her books, including her most recent, “Every Little Piece of Me” by visiting her author website.

Happy holidays, everyone! And if we missed your favourite brand, spread the love and leave a comment! In the meantime, I’m putting on my stretchiest pantsuit and polishing these off.

Bazaar Bake Table: Holly Cookies

Bazaars may have been cancelled this year on account of COVID-19, but that doesn’t mean the bazaar fun has to stop. Throughout the month, I’ve been posting my best bazaar finds of all time and recipes for some bake table classics.

Sadly, this is the final week. But I’m going out with a bang – and that bang is green. This week’s recipe for Holly Cookies comes from Hearts that Care and Hands that Serve from Outlook, Saskatchewan. Never underestimate what you can make with dry cereal, marshmallows and food colouring. True story – my dad would use a mixture of Shreddies and Marshmallow Fluff to patch holes in our walls. 

1/2 cup butter

1 400-gram package mini marshmallows

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla

Green food colouring

7 1/2 cups Corn Flakes

Melt butter and marshmallows. Add vanilla and food colouring. Pour over corn flakes. Fold to mix. Drop by spoonful onto cookie sheets. Add cinnamon candies or cherries for decoration.

Not only are Holly Cookies pretty to look at, they’re also pretty to eat. They taste just like a Rice Krispies Square. Only they’re made with Corn Flakes. And, uh, they’re green. But aside from that, totally the same. The recipe calls for cinnamon candies, but I used mini red M&M’s, logo side down, of course. This means you’ll have to eat all the other colours so you’re left with just the red ones. But these are the tough sacrifices we make in the name of holiday baking. 

Now onto my Best o’ Bazaar-o-Rama treasures!

1) Good Story Book Cover

Sometimes I don’t want to share with everyone on the subway car that I’m reading Petals on the Wind for the seventeenth time this year. So this book cover is a great way to add style and secrecy to your reading choices. It even came with a bonus bookmark! Go ahead and grab that copy of The Baby-Sitters Club: Mary Anne And Too Many Boys. No one will be none the wiser. I found this in 2016 and paid two dollars for it.

2) Pantyhose Head

I’m not posting this one as a treasure, but as a warning: Pantyhose heads are usually possessed. I was shocked to read a recent study out of the U.K. claiming that pantyhose heads are 86% more likely to be possessed than corn husk dolls. I bought this against my better judgment in 2013. The lady who sold it to me seemed pretty relieved, which should’ve been my first red flag. A few days later, my kitchen was swarming with fruit flies, a sour odour permeated the air (sourer than usual), and this pantyhose head was hanging upside down and vomiting cotton batten. I also developed a rash in my nether regions which I won’t go into but was obviously brought on by the pantyhose head. I promptly got Father O’Callaghan on the phone, who told me to give the head to Value Village immediately. I did and now she’s someone else’s problem. I paid one dollar for this pantyhose head, but eternal damnation costs a lot more than that, my friends.

That’s a wrap for this COVID-19 edition of Bazaar-o-Rama. (If you missed last week’s post, you can check it out here.) I hope you enjoyed my bazaar journey, although nothing replaces actual bazaars. Fingers crossed we’re in a better place next year. Until then, stay safe, stay kind, and may your holiday bake table be filled with your favourite treats this holiday season.