Brian Francis's Blog, page 6

Bazaar-o-Rama Week 4

Well, I’ve put on 12 pounds worth of Mars Bars Slices and Peanut Butter Porcupines – and just in time for the holiday season! That can only mean one thing. Bazaar-o-Rama is coming to a close for another year. I’m just as sad as you are, dear reader. The only thing getting me through is my new Kleenex holder (see below).

I’ll be back next year, but stay tuned for Caker Christmas, my annual holiday party where I invite Italians to make mangiacake dishes, like casseroles, JELL-O and anything beige. It’s always a tasty evening. In my eyes, anyway. I’ll post all the dishes, for better or worse, on Monday, December 23. 

Until then, check out what I scored on my final church bazaar round-up! 

Dish Soap Dress

Never underestimate a craftswoman’s ability to take something ordinary like a dish soap bottle and add that touch of style and sophistication we all need while scrubbing dried bits of chicken fingers from the baking sheet. I also find wearing purple rubber gloves with feather cuffs and listening to Julie Andrews helps take things to new levels of domestic rapture. This was five dollars, Palmolive included.

I only wish this came in my size.

Ginger Balls

I might need a new prescription for my eyeglasses, but these don’t look like no balls to me. And trust me – I’ve seen numerous ginger balls in my time. As to how these tasted, they were soft and chewy with some serious molasses undertones. To the two men reading this blog, if your acorns look like this, please seek immediate medical attention. These were two dollars.

If someone tries to flatten your balls with a fork, run.

Knit Kleenex Carrier

The sign next to these read, “Great for your purse, briefcase and backpack.” Sadly, I gave away my pleather briefcase back in the ‘90s along with my double-breasted suit and Rolodex, but I still use Kleenex. The artist who made this was behind the table and brought out a huge pile for me to choose the colour I wanted. That’s the kind of customer service sadly missing these days. This was two dollars.

In case there are any doubts, the packet of Kleenex was included.

Fudge

I was almost through the month of Bazaar-o-Rama before realizing I hadn’t had any fudge. No wonder I was getting the sweats. Fudge withdrawal is nothing to laugh at. Lucky for me, I came across this bake table. The fudge was packaged just the way I like – in an aluminum pie plate with a paper doily. Fudge deserves nothing less. This was one dollar.

Always make time to go fudge yourself.

Bag o’ Bags

Let’s face it – everyone has a plastic bag crammed with a million other plastic bags in their home. Mine was hooked over the doorknob. It looked like a deformed snowball and every time company came over, I’d have to hide it in shame. But I’m not feeling no shame no more with this handmade bag o’ bags. Now all my No Frills bags are kept stylishly neat and out of sight. This was two dollars.

If anyone needs a No Frills bag, I have 1,457 of them.

Old-Timey Cocktail Shaker

Back in the day, people used to drink a lot more than they do now. Take I Love Lucy, for example. I’m convinced Ethel was pounding back the margaritas behind closed doors. Although can you blame her, being married to Fred? This cocktail shaker has recipes printed on it, including a Tom Collins. But I’m more of a Joan Collins kind of guy. This was two dollars.

“Oh, Fred! Honestly!”

Beets

As a general bazaar rule, I never pass up buying things I like to eat but never make. Like cabbage rolls, chicken pot pies and jarred beets. Being an aspiring hand model, I can’t afford to get my fingers stained. But if someone else wants to walk around with crimson hands for a month, who am I to stop them? These were delicious and, best of all, they were only three dollars. Mason jar included. 

Beware the crimson hands.

Knit Slippers

Spoiler alert! If you’re on my Christmas list this year, chances are you’ll be getting a pair of these handmade knit slippers I purchased at a seniors centre bazaar. Just look at the rainbow of colours, not to mention more pompoms than you’d find at a cheerleader competition. And they were only five dollars a pair! But let’s keep that to ourselves. In certain gift-giving circles, I’m known as a cheapskate and I wouldn’t like to perpetuate that myth.  

Spray the bottoms with Pledge and polish your floors while you dance.

And that’s a wrap! Thanks for joining me on my bazaar journey. Start saving those loonies and we’ll see you next year for Bazaar-o-Rama 2020. Until then, keep warm. And fashion-forward.

Don’t wear these outside.

Did you miss the previous weeks? You can catch up on all the fun for Week 1, Week 2 and Week 3.

Bazaar-o-Rama Week 3

Another week, another round-up of church bazaar treasures! What did I find this past Saturday on my travels? Read on, dear reader.

Also! I was on the radio this past week, talking about bazaars. I guess it was a slow news week. Check out my interview on CBC Radio’s Here & Now!

Toilet Paper Cover

Look, we’ve all been there. You’re in the bathroom at a holiday party and you’ve already gone through an entire roll of toilet paper and there’s not another roll in sight. You have no choice but to open the door a crack and shout at someone to PLEASE GET MORE TP!!! Save your guests from embarrassment this holiday season by keeping an extra roll on the toilet tank, kept stylishly encased in a knit hat. I couldn’t pass this up, especially when the lady behind the table said the toilet paper was included. Unfortunately, she didn’t mention it was 1-ply, but I still consider this a good deal for two dollars. 

If only someone could knit a cover for the plunger, too.

Added bonus: it also doubles as a hat for your dog.

She hates modelling so I had to bribe her with a baby carrot.

Mystery Shapes

I can’t even call these squares, because they’re anything but square. They’re boulders. It’s almost as if the baker put a stick of dynamite in her 9 x 13 pan, blew the damn thing up, collected all the pieces and put them on a red paper plate. These didn’t even have a name, which only further adds to the mystery. As to what they were, they had vanilla Oreos in them and were delicious. So I hereby christen these as “Oreo Rocks.” These were one dollar.

Maybe she cut them using a hammer.

Santa snow globe

I have a soft spot for snow globes, especially when they’re in need of some TLC. In this case, a little water. Right now, it looks like Santa is drowning. Which is a disturbing visual for kids, especially at this time of year. This was one dollar.

I suppose this could be a statement piece about global warming.

Tea Bums

You may have heard of tea biscuits or tea buns, but have you ever heard of tea bums? Not me. And while everyone has a slip of the hand, I can confirm all the labels read “bums” not “buns.” Not only that, they were three hundred dollars! Good lord, I thought to myself. For that price, these must have European chocolate chips in them. Anyway, I managed to haggle the cost down to three dollars. As to how they tasted, these were the best tasting bums I’ve ever had.

If you’re going to charge $300, at least throw an adjective in there.

Felt Elf Hat Thingies

“Do you know what these are for?” I asked the lady behind the table. “Beats me,” she shrugged. “Maybe they’re for bottles?” I said I thought they were napkin holders. But I think she was right. These were two dollars, but when the lady looked at the price, she said, “I can’t charge you that much. Give me a dollar.” Bazaars are the only place where they lower the price when customer is willing to pay full price. This is not a good business model.

Apologies for not photographing these on bottles of Blue Nun. I drank it all.

Bran Muffin 

If there’s one food on offer at every bazaar, it’s the legendary bran muffin. While not the most exciting member of the muffin family, the bran muffin is high in fibre and there’s nothing exciting about irregularity. Besides, bran muffins always get a bad rap. Sure, that cranberry-lemon number might be hogging all the attention, but that doesn’t mean you can’t employ a few simple tips to make yourself stand out. Never underestimate what a sprinkling of sugar can do. This was one dollar.

This was obviously made by a Martha Stewartson-type.

Egg Cosy

“What’s this?” I asked the lady behind the table. “An egg cosy,” she said. “You put it over your hardboiled egg to keep it warm.” Then she leaned in and whispered, “It’s just a joke.” A friend of mine pointed out that a man could also use this to keep his own pair of eggs warm, if you catch my drift. Although I think a belt of some kind would need to be involved. Or an elastic. I’ll try some things out and report back. Wish me luck. The cosy was one dollar and worth it because I will never, ever have to suffer through eating a cold, hardboiled egg again. 

I don’t own an egg cup so I had to use a shot glass. Obviously I need to get one now.

And that’s a wrap for this week! Come back for the next - and sadly, last - instalment of Bazaar-o-Rama 2019. Things can only go up from here, right?

Bazaar-o-Rama Week 2

It’s been another exciting bazaar adventure of shopping, eating and making new senior friends. Here’s what I scored this week. 

Week 2

Noel Latch Hook Rug

Few things say “Welcome carollers!” more than a holiday-themed latch hook rug on your doorstep. Being the artistic type, I’ve been known to do a few latch hook rugs in my day. A couple of years ago, I commissioned both of my sisters to make me a latch hook rug for my birthday. One of them did. The other one didn’t. Guess who I’m going to bequeath this rug to – and the rest of my bazaar treasures – in the event of my untimely demise? This was four dollars.

“Harold, the neighbours are dressed like Charles Dickens characters again. Don’t answer the door.”

Florida salt and pepper set

I don’t think anything screams “I WENT TO FLORIDA BITCHES!” more than an orange-shaped salt and pepper shaker set and sugar bowl, do you? This set is obviously reserved for those special occasions when you want to impress your guests with how much of a world traveller you are. There’s something mildly disturbing about those eyes, though. Are you seeing H.R. Pufnstuf, too? This set was two dollars.

They’re watching you. They’re always watching you.

Peanut Butter Porcupine

I’ve been around the corn syrup block a few times, but I aren’t never heard of Peanut Butter Porcupines. These confused me. I’m not really sure where the “porcupine” part comes in. I mean, they’re made with Corn Flakes. Maybe if they were made with Rice Krispies. Or broken up bits of toothpicks. Then again, bazaar baking doesn’t always make sense. Speaking of cents, these were 50. 

This is giving me a beige, bumpy dog turd vibe.

Santa Toilet Seat Cover

Hey! Who’s that spying on me? Santa, you naughty boy! LOL! Granted, I was a little bothered about buying a toilet seat cover at a bazaar. But it seemed to be in good condition. Aside from the beard being a bit yellowed. Er, on second thought . . . 

Santa, you show up in the weirdest places. Honest to God.

Most people do this when they see my derriere.

Ms. Hathaway Ornament

A little-known fact: The Beverly Hillbillies once came out with a line of Christmas ornaments. People could buy replicas of Granny’s dentures, Jethro’s tiny brain or Elly May’s pigtail to hang from the tree. Needless to say, the line wasn’t successful. But imagine my surprise when I came across the long-sought-after (mainly by lesbian secretaries) Ms. Hathaway ornament! And it was only 25 cents. Mr. Drysdale would approve.

Black gold. Texas tea.

Mars Bar Slices

I posted the recipe for these when I did my Dollar Store Chocolate Bar Taste Test. The squares are made with butter, melted Mars Bars and Rice Krispies. I could sense the woman struggling with the wording on the label. I mean, they’re not “slices,” they’re “squares.” But I guess writing “Mars Bar Squares” was too weird for her? Or “Mars Bar Bars?” Anyway, they were delicious, and I had no issue eating them because no hand-rolling was involved. These were two dollars. 

It’s been a slice. Or not.

Milk Bone Ornament

Folks, the human imagination knows no limits. When one person sees an ordinary dog treat, another person says, “Let’s glue some pieces of felt to it.” I won’t be giving this to my dog as she’s allergic to felt. And googly eyes. This was two dollars. 

My holiday wish is that everyone gets a good bone this holiday season.

Knit Hat

Knit tables at bazaars can sometimes be depressing because they’re piled high with stuff that no one is buying. A lone elderly woman was sitting behind the table at a bazaar and looked a bit sad. So I walked over, picked up this hat and asked her how much it cost. She said, “Five dollars.” I said I’d take it, but she insisted I try it on first. When I put it on, she beamed at me and said, “It’s perfect. You see? I made it just for you.” And that, my friends, is the real reason I go to bazaars.

If you see someone in the chip aisle at No Frills wearing this, it’s me.

What will I find next week? God only knows! And considering these are church bazaars, I suppose that’s a true statement. Come back next week for a new round up. In the meantime, if you missed Week 1, check it out.

Bazaar-o-Rama 2019 Week 1

I’ve put on five pounds worth of leftover Tootsie Rolls and it’s dark by 2pm. That can only mean it’s November and time for Bazaar-o-Rama, my annual tour of holiday church bazaars. You know, I’ve been doing Bazaar-o-Rama since 2012. Why, you ask? Well, I’m cheap. But there’s so much joy to be found at bazaars: baking, knit slippers, Petro Canada 1984 Olympic stemware, not to mention all the new senior friends I’ve made along the way. (Shout-out to Irene! I’ll see you for coffee in the food court this Wednesday afternoon! And don’t eat all the date squares, girlfriend! LOL!)

Throughout the month, I’ll post the treasures I find on my travels. Buckle up, friends, because it’s a bazaar world. And it’s about to get a lot more bazaarer.

Week 1

Seashell Sculpture

Every now and then I come across a work of art so magnificent, so breathtaking, it feels like I’m seeing the Botticelli’s The Birth of Venus for the first time. Personally, I don’t what this is, or what the artistic intention might have been, or why the mermaid has no hands or why the seashells have glitter or why it lights up because is this a lamp?!? But who are we to question art? Our only job is to appreciate, wonder and reflect. And I reflected a lot over this. Especially since it was only four dollars.

If only this played the theme song to the little mermaid.

Peanut Butter Balls

I’m always reluctant to buy ball-shaped baking at bazaars because of the hand-rolling thing. There’s no way to gauge people’s cleanliness. How do I know they washed their hands? Anyway, I bought these Peanut Butter Balls, although the presentation was a little lacklustre. Can’t you either toss in a few more balls or get a smaller container? And nice try, but stickers aren’t going to obstruct the view. In terms of how they tasted, they were okay.. These were three dollars. I’ve paid less for bigger balls. 

Thanks for the warning that Peanut Butter balls contain nuts!

Chip n’ Dip Set

If I had friends, I’d invite them over so they could ogle at my new chip n’ dip set. I would fill it only with Ruffles (obviously) and Lipton Onion soup mix and sour cream dip (obviously). We’d eat the chips in my wood-panelled basement, laugh at all the uncool people we know, and then I’d ask everyone what VHS tape they wanted to watch. This might explain why I have no friends. This was three dollars. 

There’s only one problem. It’s empty.

Pizza

If you go to an Italian bazaar, chances are good you’ll find people playing tombola and eating pizza. It doesn’t matter if it’s 9am. Italians eat pizza at any time of the day. So when I went to this bazaar and saw they were serving pizza, I thought, “Well, when in Rome…” This slice was $3.25 and kicked the shit out of Shreddies.

Eat your heart out, Dominos.

Pottery Set

I thought this might be worth a lot of money. It’s a teapot, a creamer, four cups and saucers, and a set of salt and pepper shakers. (Truth be told, I’m not sure why there are salt and pepper shakers. Who peppers their coffee?) Anyway, the set was only nine dollars! Why nine, you ask? I never ask questions at bazaars. I snapped it up and contacted a friend who is an Antique Roadshow type. “How much could I get for this?” I asked. She said, “At least 13 bucks.” So I’m already four bucks ahead.

This is worth millions. Maybe.

Pantyhose Santa Head Wall Hanging 

You’re looking a real, hand-crafted pantyhose head. And here I thought they became extinct in the ‘70s, along with giant wooden fork and spoon wall hangings. I just hope it’s not haunted. I always seem to end up with possessed dolls. It’s an unfortunate gift. I may need to buy some holy water at the next church bazaar. Incredibly, this was just one dollar. 

Someone needs beard oil.

Hand Duster

No, this doesn’t dust your hands. (And if your hands are dusty, you’ve got bigger problems, my friend). You put it on like a glove, crank up the Color Me Badd and dust the hell out of everything. So long, Swiffer! Dusting was never so much fun. Or glamorous. This was $3.50. 

Dusting never felt more sexy.

What will I find next week? Check back November 18 for another bazaar round-up!

Tomato Sauce Taste Test

I’ve been partnered with an Italian for over 23 years. And in those 23 years, I’ve learned there are some things that Italians hold sacred: a clean house, designer sunglasses and disco singing sensation, Raffaella Carrà.

Another sacred thing? Tomato sauce.

For Italians, a good tomato sauce is more essential than air. In fact, some of them actually breathe it. (They rub a little under their nostrils before going to bed.) Tomato sauce can cause joy, pain or, at its worst, make you “aceto.”

As a mangiacake, I’ve been banned from indulging in the commercial Italian cuisine I grew up eating, like Little Caesar’s, Kraft Parmesan Cheese and Chef Boyardi Beefaroni. I can’t even crack open a jar of commercial pasta sauce. The very suggestion will cause a lot of hand gesturing and swear words. 

But I had to wonder: Does commercial tomato sauce really deserve its bad rap with Italians? 

Just look at all that red!

So I convinced my husband to blind taste-test 10 different store-bought tomato sauces. (I have to clean the house for the next year as part of the deal.) The sauces ranged from No-Name to the overpriced gourmet shit and I only used the most basic sauces I could find. So no cheese, meat or mushrooms. Everything was tasted with a piece of crusty bread and we had to spread the testing across a couple of weeks. Otherwise, he said he wouldn’t be able to stomach it. Italian drama queens are the worst.

I also taste-tested the sauces to provide a more balanced caker point of view. Not that it matters to Italians. All the rankings are his. So if you don’t agree, don’t come after me.

The results follow from worst to best. You might be surprised. Let’s just say the Italian was. 

Okay, time to get sauced!

Hunt’s Manwich Original Sloppy Joe Sauce, $1.97

Ingredients: Tomato puree (water, tomato paste), water, white vinegar, sugar/glucose-fructose, corn syrup, salt, carrot powder, spices, dehydrated pepper, red pepper flakes, guar gum, xanthan gum, maltodextrin, dehydrated garlic, citric acid, flavour, spice extract

While not technically a tomato sauce, I threw it into the mix just to keep shit interesting. Besides, what if Manwich makes for a really good pasta sauce? I could see myself writing to Hunt’s telling them to market it to Italians. But I’d tell them to first change the name to “La Nostra Cara Nonna.”

Looks like ketchup. And is that a nipple in there?

Tasting Notes:
Italian: “Oooh, this is terrible! Very, very sweet. It almost tastes like ketchup.” (Agitated hand motions.) “It’s shit!”

Caker: “It has a nice smoky, vinegar-y BBQ sauce tang to it. I’d use it if I was making traditional Tex-Mex lasagna.”

Verdict: Well, the good news is that Manwich doesn’t need to change its name anytime soon.

Ranking: 10

Classico Di Napoli Tomato & Basil, $2.00

Ingredients: Tomato puree, tomatoes, water, tomato juice, onions, salt, garlic, basic, olive oil, dehydrated garlic, black pepper, citric acid, calcium chloride

It certainly sounded Italian. And just look at that jar! Like it came straight out of Nonna’s cantina. But did the Italian consider this Classico a classic?

Score one for that chunk o’ tomato.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “The colour is very dark.” (Apparently this is a bad sign.) “I don’t like this at all. It’s perfumey. Not herby.” (Much finger wagging) “This is close to the bottom. I don’t know what else to tell you.”

Caker: “It tastes like a Saje store smells.”

Verdict: If you like your pasta with a side of pot-pourri, you’re in luck. 

Ranking: 9

Primo Thick & Zesty Original Recipe, $1.87

Ingredients: Crushed tomatoes, water, sugar, glucose-fructose, salt, modified corn starch, vegetables (dried onions, garlic, parsley and basil) vegetable oil (canola or soybean), citric acid, spices

Primo is a brand that says authentic Italian to most cakers. After all, there’s an “o” at the end of the word. But was this zesty the besty? 

There’s definitely a green flake thing going on.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “Very sweet and sugary.” (Violent head shake.) “Not my style at all. I taste a lot of oregano.”

Caker: “This straddles a very fine and delicate line between tomato sauce and salsa. Do we have any tortilla chips in the cupboard?”

Verdict: Primo, you might want to market yourself alongside Tostitos. 

Ranking: 8

Unico Zesty Pasta Sauce, $1.67

Ingredients: Crushed tomatoes, tomato juice or water, sugar, salt, modified corn starch, dehydrated onions and garlic, spices, ground chili, citric acid, olive oil

Another “o” in the name. So you know what that says to the non-Italians. But how did this sauce stand up alongside its zesty cousin?

Just look at all that zesty stuff!

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “Look how dark this is! It doesn’t have too much of a smell. A little tangy.” (Hello?!? It’s “zesty.”) “It hits the back of your throat.”

Caker: “It reminds me of Diana’s BBQ sauce. There’s a vinegary/ketchupy thing going on here. It’s not bad. You could put it on chicken fingers.”

Verdict: The only place zest should be is in your shower soap.

Ranking: 7

Hunts Tomato Sauce, $1.57

Ingredients: Tomato puree (water tomato paste), water, onion powder, citric acid, garlic powder, spice

I wasn’t sure if this was actually a pasta sauce. I mean, it says tomato sauce on the can, but are you supposed to add something to it? Like pepperoni or other traditional Italian ingredients?

You don’t get much more understated than this. I don’t even see an oregano fleck in there.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “It tastes tomatoey, but there’s a bitter aftertaste. A little acidic and tomato pasty. I don’t like it.”

Caker: “This straddles the very fine and delicate line between tomato sauce and tomato soup. Do we have any soda crackers in the cupboard?”

Verdict: Turns out you do need to add something to the sauce. Flavour.

Ranking: 6

And now the Top 5! The excitement is mounting. Well, for the cakers. For Italians, it might be more of a feeling of dread.

Farm Boy Tomato Basil Sauce, $3.50

Ingredients: Tomatoes (tomatoes, salt, citric acid), onion, garlic puree, olive oil, spices, fresh basil, sugar, salt, white pepper

Farm Boy is like a Canadian Trader Joe’s. The food is expensive and has a lot of adjectives. There’s a mechanical monkey swinging above the bananas in the produce department. Most of the prepared food is pretty good, though. So how did their sauce rank?

This one’s got a bit of chunk. And I like that.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “It’s got that sweetness to it. Also, it’s salty. But it could be bearable with pasta. Lose the sauce but keep the jar.”

Caker: “It’s sweet and has a nice pulpy texture. A little too basily for my tastes. Not that my tastes have ever carried any weight in this household.”

Verdict: Not a bad showing, but you might need to head back to the farm, boy.

Ranking: 5

No Name Original Pasta Sauce, $1.00

Ingredients: Crushed tomatoes, tomato juice or water, sugar, salt, modified corn starch, dried onions, olive oil, citric acid, spices and herbs, dried garlic, bell pepper powder, dried parsley

I mean, you can’t get more simpler, cheaper or yellower than No Name. It always gets a bad rap, but is its reputation warranted?

Yep, that’s basic.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “The colour’s not bad. It smells okay. A little watery, thin, basic, simple. I don’t get a real strong anything from this one.” (This is as close to a compliment as you’ll get from an Italian. Trust me.)

Caker: “There’s a subtle aroma. It’s a bit perfumey but it has a pleasant texture and taste.” 

Verdict: A buck never tasted so good.

Ranking: 4 

Ragu Old World Style Pasta Sauce, $1.87

Ingredients: Tomato puree (water, tomato paste), soybean oil, salt, sugar, dried onions, extra virgin olive oil, spices, herbs, natural flavour

I grew up eating Ragu but nothing has a worse reputation with Italians. It’s practically a curse word in their language. (“I wish you a lifetime of Ragu!” you’ll often hear in disputes.) But let’s just say one Italian’s Tower of Pisa was about to come crashing down.

Not a fleck in sight.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “Doesn’t smell overly spicy, which is good. The colour is still a bit dark, which isn’t good. A little sweet, no bitter aftertaste. Meh, it’s the best I’ve tried so far.” 

Caker: “A little basily for my taste, but the texture is good and it has a rich tomato flavour.”

Verdict: Ragu, you RaGO! You’ve justified my entire childhood. 

Ranking: 3

Footnote: When the Italian found out it was Ragu, the colour drained from his face. Then he went and sat on the sofa, staring silently at the wall for a long time. I still don’t think he’s fully recovered.

President’s Choice Sweet Basil, $2.00

Ingredients: Tomatoes, tomato purée, onions, basil, olive oil, salt, garlic, sugar, spices, citric acid

President’s Choice usually has a decent reputation for their products. But there’s no telling what the Italian’s choice would be. 

Thick n’ chunky with some definite flecks poking through.

Tasting Notes:

Italian: “Smells tomatoey and undercooked. The colour is very dark. A little herby and salty. It would probably give me aceto, but I could stomach it.” 

Caker: “I’m not getting much of a smell. It feels pretty thick on the tongue. A substantial weight for this one. I don’t mind it.” 

Verdict: Holds its own. Follow with a shot of PC Memories of Szechwan Spicy Peanut Satay Sauce if you’re looking to impress your guests with how worldly you are.

Ranking: 2

And coming in at number one. . .

La San Marzano Marinara Sauce, $7.49 (Look at that price!!!)

Ingredients: Peeled tomatoes, extra virgin olive oil, fresh onions, sea salt, fresh sliced garlic, fresh basil, black pepper, oregano

I was hoping this one wouldn’t fare well so the Italian wouldn’t feel so goddamned vindicated. Somewhere in Italy, a crowding is roaring and waving their flags. As usual with all things Italian, the most ridiculously expensive thing won.

This looks like a pair of pulpy lips.

Tasting Notes: 

Italian: “I can already tell you this one’s better based on the colour. Not much aroma. The consistency is more like homemade. A little salty, not bad, not too acidic. This is the best one.”

Caker: “Are you sure you didn’t like Ragu better?”

Verdict: He’s still gloating. 

Ranking: 1

And there you have it. I’m not going to say I’m not disappointed that Ragu didn’t win, but I’ll take its third-place finish. I’ve learned that, in any marriage, take whatever victories you can and run with them. Just keep running and running and never look back.

Did I miss your favourite commercial tomato sauce? Leave a comment and share with the four people who read this blog.

In the meantime, I’ll be cleaning the house listening to this Raffaella Carrà song while the husband goes shopping for new sunglasses. 

Buon Appetito!

Perky Turkey Cut-Up Cake

My mission to single-handedly revive the lost art of cut-up cakes continues. Cut-up cakes are like jigsaw puzzles. Only tastier. To date, I’ve made an airplane, a Santa, a witch and a daisy. A mission like this takes commitment, tenacity and shredded coconut. Lots and lots of coconut. 

This is the book all my cut-up cake recipes come from. Let’s be honest – the seventies were a pretty funky time for cakes. And collars.

Since Canadian Thanksgiving is coming up, I decided to make the Perky Turkey cut-up cake. I was considering making a cut-up cake in the shape of corn, but there were no instructions for that. Also, can someone please invent instructions for how to make a cornucopia cut-up cake? Because I’d totally be down with that.

The Perky Turkey cut-up cake is pretty easy. I started with the Happy Days cake recipe in the book. Truthfully, the cake always turns out a bit dry, but you need a stiff cake to successfully cut up all the pieces. And even if it’s dry, it’s still cake, so…

CAUTION: It’s very easy to get confused making a cut-up cake. Always lay your pieces out neatly. And don’t talk to anyone while you’re making it. If someone comes into the kitchen and starts yakking, tell them to GET THE HELL OUT IMMEDIATELY!

Once all the pieces are cut, it’s time to make the Seven Minute Frosting, which is made of egg whites, sugar and corn syrup. You beat everything over simmering water for, well, seven minutes. Every time I make this frosting, I want to fall asleep in it. Is that strange? It just looks so soft and cushy. 

The recipe calls for toasted shredded coconut. I guess so it looks like real feathers. Which is kind of disturbing if you stop to think about it, so best not to.  

Assemble all your pieces and then glue everything together with frosting. 

The instructions say to put orange food colouring in the frosting. Because turkeys are orange? Anyway, my frosting was the colour of a Creamsicle. 

And here is my finished Perky Turkey! I photographed it on the back deck to create a sense of rustic warmth and old world charm. I must seem so fascinating to my neighbours. “Harold, come to the window. You’ll never believe what Mr. Weirdy McWeird is up to now!”

Who wants the turkey leg? LOL!

I hope you consider making your own Perky Turkey cut-up cake. Your loved ones are sure to gobble it up. 

From my neighbours to yours, Happy Thanksgiving!

Cheerios Chews

I think most writers insert little snippets of their own lives into their fictional worlds. If you’re reading my work, chances are you’ll stumble across a reference to a casserole, squares or something made with corn syrup. That’s because I grew up eating this stuff. If you don’t believe me, check out my Caker Cooking food blog. And pro tip: corn syrup can also be used to seal driveways.

This is what breakfast looked like growing up.

In my new novel, Break in Case of Emergency, there’s a scene that references a Cheerios Chews recipe, handwritten on an index card. It’s on page 87, if you don’t believe me. 

I know index cards are a thing of the past – along with handwriting – but that’s how most recipes were recorded in my day. (Sometimes, the recipes were delivered on horseback if it was urgent.) When I wrote that scene, I was thinking of my own recipe card for Cheerios Chews, written in my mom’s handwriting.

Those weird symbols are called “handwriting.”

If there are any doubts it was written by my mom, look at the way “Cheerios” is spelled. Don’t even get me started on how the woman used to spell “spaghetti.”

If you haven’t heard of Cheerios Chews before, time to get out from under your rock. These little golden nuggets are delicious and stick to your teeth for a solid two hours. Alls you need are three ingredients: caramels, peanut butter and Cheerios. 

Here’s my double-boiler. I made it myself.

The only annoying thing? Peeling the wrappers off 24 caramels. But if you can handle a little hand cramping, you’re good.

In case you can’t read my mom’s handwriting, put 24 unwrapped caramels in a double boiler (or microwave if you’re one of those modern types), along with two tbsps. of water. Melt the caramels, then add ¼ cup peanut butter and mix to combine. Then add 1 1/2 cups of Cheerios.

My kind of hot tub.

Drop by spoonfuls on waxed paper. These are sticky little suckers, so I gave the waxed paper a squirt of Pam.

This involves some hand-eye coordination.

Put an M&M on top if you want a dash of gaiety. Or for a competitive edge at the bake table.

The M&M ups your bake sale selling price from 10 cents to 15.

Let them cool and then start eating. Just be sure to pace yourself. The only thing worse than hand cramps is stomach cramps. I’m speaking from experience.

Just look at that sheen.

For more info about Break in Case of Emergency, visit my book page. 

Cheerio!

 

5 Mistakes I Made Writing My Book

It look me a long time to write my new book, Break in Case of Emergency. Eight years, in fact. And while I could lie and say that I spent most of that perfecting my adjectives, the bottom line is that most of those eight years were wasted.

Eight years. 

And this is my third book. You’d think I’d have things figured out by now. But nope. What’s so frustrating is that, like so many other writers, I’m balancing my writing life with my working life, my married life, my family life, my (somewhat) social life, and my Real Housewives of New York, Atlanta, New Jersey and sometimes Beverly Hills life.

In other words, my writing time is extremely precious. And limited. I know it’s a cliche but I literally don’t have the time to waste.

While my book eventually came together (and I’m very proud of it), I made some mistakes in the writing process. I’m passing along those mistakes to aspiring writers. (Truthfully, I still feel like I’m aspiring.) Every writing experience is different, so these may not be mistakes common to all writers. They’re just my own take-aways. If you don’t make mistakes, well, I guess you’re a real smartypants.

1) No sense of direction

I didn’t have a plan when I started writing this book. I told myself I’d sort it all out in the first draft. When that draft reached 450 pages, and I wasn’t even near the end, I knew I was in trouble. Two years went down the drain. Although plans always change, try to have some sort of blueprint when you start your story. The clearer you are at the start, the easier it will be to see when things start to go astray. 

2) Knew the characters, didn’t know the story

From the first draft to the finished product, most of the characters in my novel stayed the same. The problem was that I didn’t really know what to do with them. In other words, whose story was I telling? There may be one story to tell but there are a hundred different ways to tell it. Take the time to understand your story. Then decide the best character to tell it. And make sure you can back that up by answering one crucial question: Why?

3) Fell down the research rabbit hole

It’s not that research is bad. But it can be a trap. Sometimes, we use research as a distraction from our writing. For me, I was too focused on factual events that hindered me from taking my story and characters to where they needed to go. Research is important. But not more important than your imagination.  

4) I copy-catted

We all have writers who inspire us. But there’s a difference between being influenced and trying to mimic. I read a book while I was writing my own that I liked so much, I thought, “I want to write a book like that.” So I tried to do that. But I failed. Why? Because I was copying, not creating. Keep your head down and focus on what makes your story distinctly your own.

5) I was a draft hoarder

I should’ve sent my early drafts to friends for their feedback, but I didn’t. I thought, “I’ll show them when I’m happy with it.” Problem was, by that point, it was too late to do anything constructive with their feedback. It’s vital that you share your work early on, even if you’re not happy with it. You don’t need share it widely, either. Just a few key people whose opinions you trust.

What I did right

All these mistakes aside, I did a few things right. I hired a freelance editor to help me polish my book up before shopping it around. And I was honest with myself when things weren’t working. But I also didn’t beat myself up. You’ll accomplish nothing if you let yourself feel like crap. Most important, I didn’t give up. I kept thinking about the book, the entry points, the characters, the story. And I listened to my intuition when it said, “You’ve got something here. It’ll come. Just give it time, girl.”

As writers, we all have to figure out what works best in the limited number of hours we have in our day. Just try to be as smart – and strategic – at the beginning to save yourself from any heartbreak in the long run.

I’ll be starting my fourth book soon. I’ll let you know all the mistakes I make with this one too.

Break In Case of Emergency will be published September 10.

My Dad's T-shirt

When my dad died 18 years ago, I went through a phase where I wore some of his personal items. I guess it was part of the grieving process, a way of keeping him alive through the extension of my living body.

I wore his wedding ring. It was too big for my ring finger, so I had to wear it on my middle finger, stacked with another ring I wore on my middle finger. It wasn’t a good look.

When you have thin fingers, everything slips through them.

I also wore his windbreaker. That wasn’t a good look either. At the time, I thought it was vintage. Instead, I was just wearing a cheap, unstylish nylon jacket my dad likely bought at Walmart. As evidence, here’s a picture of me in it. Everything about my outfit is unfortunate. I suppose I could blame the ‘90s. Only problem is that the picture was taken in 2005. 

#somuchwrong

I have his hard hat, but I’ve never worn that. Well, once. To a work site because I needed a hard hat. But I’ve never worn it to the park or to No Frills. I’m pretty sure, anyway.

I can’t wear this and not launch into “YMCA.”

I also have his cufflinks which I wore to my wedding.

I think these are Mother of Pearl.

Here’s an old lighter which almost makes me wish I smoked again because imagine the looks I’d get when I whipped this out.

A mini blowtorch.

Here are some of his tie clips.

I can’t tell if these are back in style again.

Eventually, I stopped wearing my dad’s things. It’s not that the items lost their significance. But I realized I was wearing them as a way of holding onto him. At some point in the grieving process, you come to understand that material things are just that. They’ll never replace the person. Nor should they.

Not that it’s wrong or unhealthy to have mementos. They can bring comfort. And they bring the dead back into your physical world. Things they touched. Wore. The items that were part of their living lives.

I’m writing my next book with this pen. Mark my words.

There’s only one thing left that I wear of my dad’s on a regular basis. It’s one of his old T-shirts. 

I honestly don’t know why I took it in the first place. There’s nothing special or particularly nice about it. It’s polyblend, which could explain why it’s lasted all these years.

I usually wear the T-shirt to bed. But after 18 years of washings, it’s getting pretty threadbare. I’ve been considering throwing it away. 

When I put on the T-shirt, I don’t feel my dad in any significant way. I’m just reminded of him, that this was once his T-shirt. And that he used to wear it, likely without giving it a second thought. He probably couldn’t imagine his son wearing it. Knowing my dad, he’d think it was a stupid thing to do. “Get rid of the damn thing, Brian,” I can hear him saying. “Go buy a new one.”

But I also think he’d understand that people hang onto things. A ring. A keychain. A hat. And that, while these things might not have been special to the person when they were alive, they become special to the people left behind. Bits of plastic and cloth can sometimes seem like gold. And if we throw the item away, we feel like we’re throwing out the person, too. Those precious last pieces. 

I know that’s not really true. If I threw away his T-shirt, I wouldn’t be getting rid of my dad. It wouldn’t change how much I love him. He wouldn’t fade away. And while I know I won’t see him in physical form again, I also know that the physical things he once owned can’t act as substitutes for him. They don’t bring him back. 

I know all of that.

But I still wear the T-shirt once a week and wash it and place it back in the pile with all my other T-shirts. And I know I’ll keep wearing it until I can’t wash it anymore. Until it becomes too thin and delicate. I tell myself I’ll throw it out then.

Or maybe not.

Maybe I’ll gently fold it and tuck it safely away in a drawer, along with a pair of cufflinks and a ring. Someplace safe. I won’t take it out very often, but I’ll know it’s there, waiting, whenever I feel the need to touch it. 

Granny Candy Report

You can count on grannies for a number of things. Showing you how to do the mashed potato dance, for one. Or keeping Glade Plug-In Air Fresheners in business. Or using “dilly-dally,” “horse-feathers” and “nincompoop” in a single sentence.

Another thing you can count on is a granny’s candy stash.

Usually, these candies are kept in an intricately etched crystal dish with a lid, artfully centred on a coffee table with a doily underneath. These dishes are so fancy, you’d think they held the remains of Tutankhamen, not peppermints. That’s just how grannies roll.

But how good is the actual candy?

I went in search of every granny candy I could get my sticky hands on. I ranked 20 (yes, 20!) candies based on taste, size and suckability. In other words, how long the candy lasted inside my mouth. Please note that I didn’t suck aggressively. It was a gentle, thoughtful suck as I went about my usual business, like dusting or doing decoupage. 

If I missed any granny candies you think should be included, leave a comment. I will do my best to find it, suck it and rate it. 

Okay, time to peel off those wrappers. Shit’s about to get real. Candies are ranked worst to best.

#20 Molasses Kisses

These were the worst candies a kid could get at Halloween. I mean, an apple landing in the bottom of your pillowcase wasn’t as depressing as a granny tossing you a handful of these. But are they really that bad? I had to mail-order these (it’s hard finding Halloween candy in August). The package boasted “With 10% molasses.” Like that was a selling point.

Tasting notes: My first thought was that it tasted like gingerbread dough. It had a deep, caramelized flavour that came from that 10% molasses, I’m assuming. But I couldn’t enjoy it. There were too many jaded Halloween memories associated with it. Even that orange-and-yellow wrapper was triggering. It also had an ingredient called “cotton stearine.” Trick or crap, folks. Trick or crap. 

Suckability: 8 minutes, 35 seconds

Verdict: Still nope.

#19 Licorice Toffee

Some things should never go together. Socks and sandals. Trump and the White House. Prosciutto and melon. And toffee and licorice. I might be biased since I’m not a huge licorice fan to begin with, but I didn’t see any good coming from this unholy union. Was I right? 

Tasting notes: Why? Why would you make a candy that tastes like this? It was awful. I just wanted to chew it and get it over with, but I managed to suck on until the miserable piece of crap disintegrated in my mouth. The fact that it was shit brown didn’t help.

Suckability: 6 minutes, 20 seconds (which was 6 minutes, 20 seconds too long)

Verdict: The antichrist of granny candies

#18 Spearmint Leaves

I can’t say I’m a fan of these, but I’ve seen them in a fair number of candy dishes over the years. And I thought it was only fair to include them for the spearmint leaves fans out there. All four of you. Anyway, I tried to keep an open mind. So was I ready for this jelly?

Tasting notes: Things definitely start off right, thanks to the sugar crust. And the spearmint flavour came through right away. But once the sugar was gone, things started to get a little slippery. It felt like I had a slug in my mouth. And yes, I’ve had a slug in my mouth before. Still, at the end of it all, my breath was likely in better shape than had I been sucking a fuzzy peach. 

Suckability: 7 minutes, 23 seconds

Verdict: I’m ready to “leave” this one in the candy dish. (Sorry.)

#17 Chicken Bones

A colleague sent me a bag to include my taste test. “These are my least favourite granny candies,” she wrote. Not exactly a selling point. Invented in New Brunswick in 1885, chicken bones are a combo of chocolate and cinnamon. They seem to draw strong opinions on either side. Which way would the bone sway me?

Tasting notes: I sampled these with two friends (yes, I have two). Things started out pleasant enough with a sharp cinnamon-y taste. And we were all satisfied by the size of the bone. But when the chocolate kicked in, lines were drawn. One found it pleasing. The other spit it out, saying the chocolate was “chalky.” Personally, I was just grateful for any kind of bone. And two friends.

Suckability: 6 minutes, 51 seconds

Verdict: You’re either a boner or you’re not a boner. There’s no in-between.

#16 Strawberry Candies

If I was judging candies based on packaging alone, these would be the hands-down winner. I mean, they look like actual strawberries. Almost as real as those strawberry marshmallows. But what’s under the wrapper counts the most. 

Tasting notes: These tasted like lip gloss. And yes, as a young gay boy growing up with two older sisters, I have tasted lip gloss. Also, these candies were large and took up a lot of space in my mouth, which made hymn singing a bit challenging. In the end, I didn’t get a distinct strawberry flavour. Just sweet.

Suckability: 10 minutes, 1 second

Verdict: You can purdy it up, but it don’t mean it’s gonna taste good.

#15 Peppermint Chews

Wintergreen. Spearmint. Scotch. If you needed more evidence that grannies love anything mint, I present my next piece of evidence: the peppermint chew. Granted, you may lose a few fillings gnawing on these, but at least your breath will smell like 100. 

Tasting notes: I got a perfume-y taste as soon as the sucking began. Or was that bleach? Or was that old paper? Anyway, it was sweet, but it wasn’t good. I had to resist the urge to chew it up just to get it over and done with. 

Suckability: 7 minutes, 56 seconds

Verdict: Sweet and bleachy: two words that should never appear side by side. 

#14 Wintergreen Mints

The colour of Peptol Bismol, these hard, round candies are a staple in most granny candy dishes. I don’t know why something called “wintergreen” is pink, but there are so many things I don’t understand about granny candies to begin with. 

Tasting notes: As soon as I popped this into my mouth, I tasted old. Like dusty curtains and yellowed bedsheets and blinds pulled down on a sunny day. They were powdery and dry. The hot pink colour didn’t help and the round disc shape wasn’t a good fit for my mouth either. 

Suckability: 6 minutes, 7 seconds

Verdict: An okay candy, if you like the taste of mint-flavoured chalk. 

#13 Tavener’s Fruit Drops

If your granny greeted you with “Cheerio, guv’nor!” and served you bangers for breakfast, chances are, you’re British. Which means you’re likely familiar with these cocaine-dusted candies. Which means you’re probably an addict by this stage in your life.

Tasting notes: There are different flavours in the tin, but because everything is covered in cocaine, I couldn’t tell which was which, so I just grabbed one. Turns out it was lemon. It tasted like Pine Sol. And yes, I know what Pine Sol tastes like. Having said that, there were small indentations in both sides of the candy, a sign of good engineering as it fit my mouth perfectly. The cocaine coating was a nice touch, but there’s not enough coke in the world to make me a lemon fan.

Suckability: 6 minutes, 11 seconds

Verdict: Cocaine is a helluva drug, but lemon is still lemon.

#12 Glitter Mints

It’s a well-known fact these mints are always on Mariah Carey’s rider. She even made a movie about them. And who can blame her? Glitter mints are some serious glam candies. I didn’t know if I wanted to suck one or take it dancing at Studio 54. But did Mariah’s faves get me feeling emotions?

Tasting notes: Sorry, but like most pop stars, this candy was all photoshop with very little substance. The candy had a nice shape for my mouth and a nice texture (not unlike sucking polished glass), but the mint flavour was weak. Plus, as it got smaller, the polished glass felt more like shards. Ouch.

Suckability: 9 minutes, 49 seconds

Verdict: While it scored high for suckability, All I Want for Christmas Is…a different mint.

#11 Sour Lemon Drops

Grannies like anything that make your mouth pucker because then you’re easier to kiss. That’s my theory anyway. I’m not a big fan of lemon flavoured anything but I had to include these. This journalistic work can take me to some dark corners. So did these Sour Lemon Drops change my mind?

Tasting notes: These tasted like Pledge. And yes, I know what Pledge tastes like. I have to say, this little fucker packed a helluva sour punch. My mouth got all phlegmy and my scalp started to sweat. It was like a hit of adrenaline. The next thing I knew, I had on a windbreaker pantsuit and was doing laps at the mall. 

Suckability: 10 minutes, 13 seconds

Verdict: If you like the taste of furniture polish, you’re in luck.

#10 But’r Mints

These cream-coloured candies promise the best of both worlds: mint (to freshen your breath after that French Onion chip dip) and butter (because butter). But’r I had to wonder: how would these chewy candies hold up against some hard competition?

Tasting notes: The texture was a bit like Silly Putty and the candy kept sticking to the back of my teeth. But it was fun to mould it into different shapes with my tongue. In terms of flavour, it had a creamy, gentle mint taste, but I just couldn’t deal with the back-of-teeth stickiness. As it neared the end, I looked like a squirrel as I tried to nibble the little bits off.

Suckability: 5 minutes, 59 seconds

Verdict: A sticky mess not worth the stares from bystanders. 

#9 Humbugs

These are right up there in the granny candy hall of fame. I used to think they were called June Bugs, which makes sense, given their resemblance. I mean, what’s a humbug? (Don’t get started on the Scrooge thing, please.)

Tasting notes: Buttery and honey-ish with a hint of mint, these candies were subtle, but sweet. They had a nice shape which fit my mouth perfectly. Having said that, they were a little lacklustre, considering their notoriety. The colour was nice, though, if you like that amber jewellery they sell on The Shopping Channel.

Suckability: 7 minutes, 37 seconds

Verdict: A good mint, but a little underwhelming. 

#8 Starlight Candies

I don’t want to offend anyone, but if your granny served these, she needed to get out of the house more. You can’t get any more boring than these swirly yawns, IMHO. Even if the red and green options mean you have a corner on the Christmas market. But was I being too judgemental?

Tasting notes: I found the thick round disc awkward in my mouth. But it had a strong mint flavour that rose up my nose (always a sign of a good mint). If it had been oval, it would’ve scored higher. Maybe this candy is strictly for people with big mouths. Or no tongues.

Verdict: A decent enough candy, but better off as a gingerbread house decoration.

Suckability: 8 minutes, 42 seconds

#7 Rum Flavoured Toffee

All elderly people love rum. And not just to drink. Consider senior favourites like rum-raisin ice cream, rum-and-butter Lifesavers or that classic morning treat, rum n’ Shreddies. These rum-flavoured toffee candies looked like a good time. But did they give me the buzz I was hoping for?

Tasting notes: These had a heavy, satisfying weight on my tongue. They were buttery, creamy and rummy. Sadly, I didn’t get a buzz. Although I did consider calling every guy who ever dumped me to tell them that I was doing taste tests on granny candies and who was sorry now? Maybe I did get a buzz.

Suckability: 6 minutes, 40 seconds

Verdict: While they didn’t disappoint, they also didn’t get the mutherfuckin party started either.

#6 Spearmint Peppermints

Like that annoyingly pretty second cousin who sucks up all the attention at a family reunion, the spearmint peppermint has been up the scotch peppermint’s ass since time immemorial. Yes, they’re flashier. But how do they really stack up against their Scottish kin?

Tasting notes: There was a sharp, spearmint flavour as soon as the sucking began. It definitely was more complex and sophisticated next to its (pale) scotch cousin. After a few minutes, the hard exterior dissolved into an oval sugar cube, giving my tongue a nice exfoliation. But the spearmint flavour quickly disappeared. 

Suckability: 6 minutes, 27 seconds

Verdict: Definitely prettier but looks are only mint-deep.

#5 Butterscotch Candies

Before there were Werther’s, there were these butterscotch candies. Honestly, I don’t think you can get much more granny than butterscotch. And what little rays of sunshine these candies were! When I took them out of the bag, the clouds suddenly departed and birds started singing. But did they make my mouth shine?

Tasting notes: While it’s hard to compete with a Werther’s (which I don’t consider a granny candy don’t get me started), these candies held their own. There was a strong butterscotch flavour with a bit of a sharp undercurrent. And the flavour held on to the very end. 

Suckability: 6 minutes, 52 seconds

Verdict: Not the world’s most exciting candy, but predictably dependable. Not unlike anything butterscotch. 

#4 Anice Mints

If your granny greeted with you with “bunjourno!” and served S cookies, chances are, you’re Italian. Which means you’re likely familiar with these licorice-flavoured candies from your nonna’s candy dish. A note to mangiacakes: it’s pronounced “ah-nee-che,” not “ah-nice.” But you’ll probably pronounce it wrong anyway. 

Tasting notes: Given my aversion to licorice, and the fact that these look like suppositories, they weren’t as bad as I expected. The licorice flavour was pretty subtle overall. They had a nice rectangular shape, as well, and nestled into the centre of my tongue perfectly. 

Suckability: 8 minutes, 35 seconds

Verdict: A decent mint, even if licorice isn’t your thing.

#3 Scotch Peppermints

My mom always had these candies on hand. Resembling moth balls but tasting much better (I’m speaking from experience), scotch peppermints are the grand-daddy (or is that the grand-granny?) of hard candies. But do these classics deserve their status?

Tasting notes: I felt there was something sizeable in my mouth, so no complaints there. Throughout the sucking, the candy exuded a strong mint flavour. Within a few minutes, the hard, outer layer gave way to a coarse interior. In science, this is known as the mantle. Eventually this turned into a sticky, flavourless pebble not unlike a spare tooth rattling around inside my mouth. 

Suckability: 7 minutes, 5 seconds

Verdict: While not the most exciting thing I’ve ever had on my tongue, the classic scotch peppermint can still blow the bagpipes.

#2 Kraft Caramels

If your granny had her candy dish filled with these, she was a high roller. To me, Kraft caramels are a sign of wealth, not unlike going trick-or-treating at someone’s house and they hand you a whole chocolate bar instead of one of those minis. Unfortunately, none of those people lived in my neighbourhood. I was lucky if I got a single roll of Rockets. Or a Molasses Kiss. (See above.)

Tasting notes: You don’t get a lot of flavour at first, but you need to warm these caramel cubes up a bit. Once you do, they release a deep caramel flavour, reminding me of caramel apples. (By the way, who really needs the apple?) The size was a little overwhelming and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t make some audible sounds as I sucked along. But, all in all, a satisfying treat to the very end.

Suckability: 8 minutes, 23 seconds

Verdict: A bonefide classic.

And coming in at first place . . .

#1 Chocolate Mints

Is there anything more sophisticated than the marriage of chocolate and mint? Consider After Eights. Or Junior Mints. Or Girl Guide cookies. I have to give these candies props for their shiny turquoise wrappers. I imagined Joan Collins serving these from her Waterford crystal dish to her grandchildren. “Never call me Grandma in public,” she’d say. “Always Queen Joan.”

Tasting notes: I like a candy that throws a few surprises. These start with mint, but then the chocolate centre starts seeping out and it’s hard not to get excited. I wanted to bite through to get to the chocolate, but I reminded myself I was a granny candy professional. There was protocol I had to follow. This was a winning candy in and out of the wrapper.

Suckability: 6 minutes, 29 seconds

Verdict: Sophisticated, complex and always unpredictable. Not unlike Queen Joan. 

And there you have it! 20 granny candies ranked. My mouth is feels pretty raw right now and I have four cavities, but it was worth it. We all just want to leave our mark on the world, you know?

Bonus craft!

Why not make a candy tree with your granny candy? They’re a cinch and require no artistic ability. Alls you need is a Styrofoam ball, a wine or martini glass, bobby pins and candy.

 Thread one end of the candy wrapper through the end of a bobby pin.

Stick the bobby pins in rows around the Styrofoam ball, working your way up to the top.

About two hours and a numb thumb later, you’ll have the sweetest tree ever!

I gave mine to my own granny. I think she got confused because she immediately took the candy ball off and fixed herself a martini with the glass. I guess she knows how to prioritize.

Want more taste tests?

Check out my recent Dollar Store Chocolate Bar Taste Test and my Snack Crackers Taste Test.