It’s nothing new that I have a penchant for foreign candy and love offering it up at work. I usually have some type of concerning confection in my broken candy urn at any given time, like the durian taffy that still haunts Jamie five years later. (Currently, there are some kind of coffee things from the Netherlands that have been festering in there since over the summer.) I like to think that people are just afraid of slicing a tendon from sticking their hand in between shards of jagged ceramic, so maybe it’s more of a safety thing and not so much a desire to not activate their gag reflex.
I recently brought in some Asian candy even though Henry always yells, “YOU KNOW YOU’RE PROBABLY NOT GOING TO LIKE IT!” And he’s right a lot of the time. This time I like 2 out of 3 of the shit I bought.
The loser of this batch was a bag of curious rice krispie-looking things called Uncle Pop Baked Puffs. I opened one the night before I took them to work and both cats came rushing over and practically mauled me for it. I took one taste and the verdict was in pretty quickly: NOPE.
It tasted like a pizzelle that had been soaked in water, microwaved, fried, and then soaked in water again – the texture was more of BLOATED puff, not baked. And then for whatever reason, there were bits of dried kiwi stuck to it.
The aftertaste was shelf.
I set it down on the table and the cats started fighting each other for it and then tore that shit up.
“There’s gotta be fish in this,” Henry murmured, squinting at the ingredients.
Then Penelope tried to break into my work purse to get the rest!
Something to consider.
The next day at work, I filled up one of my plastic trick-or-treat pumpkins with the new eastern goods, hoping that a universally-accepted candy receptacle with no sharp pieces might entice more reaches.
People have been enjoying the Asian candies all week (one is coconut but has a honeycomb on the wrapper, and the other is some chocolate thing with a happy boy on the wrapper), but everyone is skeptical of the Unclepops. Glenn and Shannon unanimously voted it off the island, but Todd said that it wasn’t the worst thing he ever had ever eaten and that he might consider eating it again if he was starving.
Then the other day, Nate came over and, after getting sexually harassed by Catherine, I decided WHY STOP THERE and attempted to harass his taste buds too so I coaxed him into trying an Unclepop.
His review was that it tasted like stale stuffing.
“But wait…now it kind of tastes sweet….yeah, I’d dunk this in coffee for sure,” he said, finishing it off. We were all amazed and awed at this display of brave eats.
“Nate ate one of those gross Asian rice krispie things!” I told Henry as I got in the car after work.
“You mean those things that I told you to throw out because they expired a year ago?” Henry frowned, his everyday mask of disappointment fastened tightly over his face. “You’re feeding people expired food?!”
Wow. Somehow I missed that part.
The next day, I went to work and threw them out. I mean, I don’t think anyone will die. My cats are still alive.