indulge – Life In A Word

Have you ever taken a bite of something and thought, “Nope, doesn’t taste right”? Gluten-free foods come to mind. Or salsa on a tortilla chip after the salsa’s turned south. There’s nothing more unnerving than expecting one taste and getting another. But at least with gluten-free (and bad salsa) you’re sort of prepared to be disappointed. The same can’t be said with more “sacred” foods. Like chocolate.

I ate my fair share of Hershey’s bars as a kid but once Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups came along I switched my preference. Reese’s somehow developed the perfect blend of peanut butter and milk chocolate into a convenient cup where you get both tastes in every bite. The two-cup packs never convinced me to save one for later, but they did give the impression I was getting more for my money.

Some things are better left alone… but Reese’s never got the message. Instead, over the years they’ve produced endless varieties on the original peanut butter cup. Before you knew it we had a choice of sizes (including “Big Cup”), fillings (peanut butter and banana creme? Yuck!), and candy coatings, as well as holiday shapes like milk chocolate hearts, eggs, pumpkins, and bells, all with the peanut butter filling. Finally, Reese’s Pieces joined the list, made infinitely more popular by their supporting role in the blockbuster film E.T.

The problem with variations on a Reese’s is the altered ratio of milk chocolate to peanut butter. I would’ve enjoyed standing in ole man Reese’s shoes back in the 1920s when he taste-tested his way to perfection. He should’ve put a patent on it, because too much milk chocolate or too much peanut butter just doesn’t taste right to me. But at least we’re talking about milk chocolate here. Now for the real injustice…

The H.B. Reese Candy Company became a subsidiary of Hershey in 1963. Their peanut butter cups instantly became Hershey’s bestseller (even surpassing the classic Hershey Bar). But recently, subtly, quietly, Hershey committed a mortal sin of the candy world. Rather than leaving well enough alone they changed the ingredients of a Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup. Soon to come, there will no longer be any milk chocolate in a Reese’s, at least not by proper definition. Instead, you’ll indulge in a “chocolate-flavored coating”. In the world of food, we all know flavoring is just another word for “artificial”.

This little con of Hershey’s was brought to the headlines by none other than a grandson of H.B. Reese (and who can claim better peanut butter cup credentials than that?). Brad Reese is taking on Hershey for straying from the original recipe. Granted, the price of cocoa beans – the basis of real chocolate – has gone through the roof the last few years, forcing companies to get creative with size, price, or ingredients. I just wish Hershey offered me the option to still purchase the real thing.

I’ve already noticed how Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups are shrinking. The originals were 0.9 ounces. Then they went to 0.8 ounces, then 0.75, and finally to the 0.7 juniors they are today. If Hershey keeps this up, you’ll start thinking the “original” is a “miniature”. I can make peace with shrinkage as long as the milk chocolate/peanut butter ratio stays the same. But now the words “milk chocolate” will be removed from the orange wrapper. Ask the FDA and they’ll say, “Sorry, “chocolate-flavored coating” is not the same as “milk chocolate”.

I’m joining Brad Reese’s campaign to restore Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups to their original composition. Some things are just worth their weight in gold. Not that I’d pay gold for a peanut butter cup, but show me the original size, ratio, and ingredients and I might just be tempted.

Some content sourced from the NBC News article, “Grandson of Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups is in pieces over missing milk chocolate”, and Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

When it comes to fruit, berries top the list of my favorites. I’ve always been a fan of grapes, apples, and pears – probably because I ate a lot of them when I was a kid – but over the years I’ve come to appreciate berries as much for their taste as for their healthy benefits. Now don’t ask me to choose a favorite berry because I’d struggle between strawberries, blueberries, and raspberries. And where-oh-where would I rank pineapples?

That’s no berry blunder I just made there. Pineapples – go figure – are a berry. I meant to start this post from a wholly different angle but I couldn’t get past this juicy tidbit of trivia. As a pineapple plant grows, the individual flowers fuse together to create a cluster of “berries”, which go through an extraordinary evolution to end up as the cohesive pineapple you and I know and love. Grow one in your garden sometime and watch it happen. For the most part, all you have to do is slice off the top of the fruit and plant it.

I could’ve guessed pineapples fall among nature’s sweetest fruits. In fact, on a list of the top ten the pineapple rates second-sweetest of them all (only mangoes contain a higher concentration of fructose). For perspective, grapes, cherries, and strawberries are further down the list and each of those are plenty sweet. We might as well be talking about candy here instead of pineapple.

I do love pineapple, and I’m guessing part of the appeal is the nostalgia of childhood eats. My mother liked to serve pineapple chunks on top of cottage cheese as a side salad. She occasionally broke out a can of Del Monte “Fruit Cocktail”, a concoction of pineapple and other fruit pieces submerged in a sickly-sweet syrup. My mother also baked whole hams with pineapple rings dotting the surface. I won’t claim baked pineapple tastes as good as a fresh slice, but the slightly-burnt taste comes to memory like it was yesterday.

There was a pineapple upside-down cake or two in my childhood but I was never really a fan. Fruit belongs in pies if you ask me (hence my dislike of Easter hot cross buns and Christmas fruitcake). Admittedly, he or she was a clever soul who realized fruit could be nestled into the top of a cake if placed at the bottom of the pan first (followed by the cake batter, followed by a flip of the pan after baking). And who knew: prunes, not pineapples, were the first fruit to grace upside down cakes.

My favorite pineapple story comes from our honeymoon. Through a travel agent we booked several days at an all-inclusive resort in Hawaii. The first morning we ordered fresh pineapple from room service. It was so delicious we ordered more every morning thereafter, enjoyed on our private balcony as we gazed out to the Pacific. But at check-out, my jaw dropped when I saw every one of those (overpriced) breakfasts on my bill. I promptly asked the hotel manager to look into it and he goes, “Oh, that all-inclusive package your travel agent booked was discontinued years ago. You have to pay for the breakfasts now. Might want to take her back an updated brochure”. Whoops.

Speaking of pricey pineapple, a new spin on the tropical fruit will set you back almost $400. Say that again, Dave. Okay, you’ll pay $400 for a pineapple if you really want to. One of Del Monte’s unique “Rubyglow” pineapples costs that much (and yes, I did say one). Those who have already indulged say the only difference is the lack of bitter aftertaste you get with a regular pineapple. Otherwise, you’re paying more for the distinctive look (and the fancy box) than you are for the fruit inside. My first thought when I saw the photo: the Rubyglow looks like pineapple and ham all in one food.

At the start of this post I was stuck on “berry”. Now I’m stuck on “berry expensive”. $400 for a piece of fruit is bonkers. I’ll never pay it. For my hard-earned dollars I’ll take forty overpriced piña coladas instead.

Some content sourced from the Medium.com article, “Top 10 Sweetest Fruits”, the CNN Business article, “$400 for one pineapple: The rise of luxury fruit”, and
Wikipedia, “the free encyclopedia”.

Tag: indulge

Confection Objections

Berry Expensive