To match the seasonal reviews of my compatriots, I’ve decided to do a review of my favorite Easter treats- The Cadbury Eggs lineup. For this review I will be trying the three different types. First will be the original Cadbury Crème Egg, followed by the Chocolate Crème Egg (which before this review I have never tried), and then finally, the Cadbury Caramel Egg. Also, this review will be completely “live”. I’ll be writing my thoughts down after trying each egg.
First up, the original Cadbury Crème Egg.
One thing that has always been an issue for me with these eggs is that if I didn’t eat them quickly enough, the chocolate shell would start to melt. You might tell me to use the foil wrapper as a protective holder, but I have never really had much luck with that in execution. Because of this, whenever I eat a Cadbury Egg, it’s always in one or two bites. This actually helps me to enjoy the treat more, though, since I feel if I ate one of these over a longer period of time, the richness of the cream would be too much for me.
As a side note, I knew one kid back in high school who could eat one of these and make it last for nearly three hours. I don’t know how he did it; if I had tried something like that, at the end of three hours I’d have a glob of melted chocolate and cream melted in my hand because 20 minutes in I’d be sick of the sugary richness of it all.
Next up, for my very first time, the Chocolate Crème Egg.
Huh. Not at all what I was expecting, really. When I think of chocolate cream, for some reason my mind jumped to something with the consistency of chocolate frosting. Not really sure why, but I am pleasantly surprised by the thickness of the chocolate insides. Actually, it reminds me a great deal of Nutella. I don’t know if it’s just my mind tricking me, but now I can taste hazelnut. Just checked the ingredients, and nope, no hazelnut.
Since we’re talking about the chocolate egg, let’s talk about the chocolate shell found on all of the eggs. I think the shell is the best part of the entire package. They provide a satisfying “snap” when you bite into one, as long as it hasn’t melted at all.
This was definitely much richer than the plain crème egg. Rich enough to make me take a short break before moving on to the caramel egg.
Okydoke, I’m back! Time to try the Caramel Egg!
And here’s something that always happens with the caramel eggs, and yet I always forget about it by the next time I have one. There’s always a little bit of caramel that leaks out of the shell and sticks to the foil wrapper. Whenever I’d open one, there’d be a little bit of foil left on the egg that I couldn’t pick off. This used to freak me out when I was much younger, but now I realize that even if I swallow a little bit of foil, it’s not gonna kill me.
Another surprise tonight. When I bit into the egg, there was a very audible pop (as in the expulsion of air). I understand why it happened, but have never experienced it before. The thing I love most about the caramel egg is that, to me at least, it isn’t rich at all. I still down them in two bites, but that’s just out of habit. I’m limiting myself to only one caramel egg tonight, but usually I’d eat these in pairs.
After trying all three eggs I can still say that the caramel egg was my favorite of the bunch, and I hope that I find a few of these in my Easter basket this year. Would I like them so much if they were a year round treat? I don’t think so, but their rarity is another aspect that makes them all the more special.
I have always steered away from fast-food fish sandwiches. This is not at all due to an aversion to fish, but rather my intense love of seafood. Why, I thought, suffer through those nasty little frozen fish squares that plague cafeterias and TV dinners everywhere, when tastier options abound for the eater willing to take even the first step off the most beaten of paths? Fried haddock and chips, broiled whole fish (head intact please, those are the best parts), crab-stuffed flounder fillets, sushi and sashimi; all regularly available at numerous locally owned restaurants and diners.
Last week, though, something caught my attention. Wendy's was proudly advertising a panko-breaded cod fillet sandwich. I was surprised, to say the least. For those who may not know, most frozen fish sandwiches are made from pollock, haddock's far less tasty cousin; it's a trash fish. Cod, however, is more highly prized, and pricier. Further I always applaud this kind of transparency in food, especially in a fast-food joint. I decided it was worth a shot.
The Wendy's Premium Cod Fillet
I must say, for a fast-food fish sandwich, the Wendy's cod fillet wasn't half bad. Cod has never been my favorite white fish, tasting just a little too metallic to me. However, its slight sweetness, mild fishiness, and meatier texture make it a huge step up from most fast-food fishy fare. The sandwich was (thankfully) light on the tartar, so as not to walk all over the subtleties of the fish itself. The panko breading was nicely browned and crispy and the bun was lightly toasted and tasty. All in all I was pleasantly surprised.
Having had a fairly good experience at Wendy's I wondered if, perhaps, the other major fast-food places might deserve a chance. This called for a comparison of the "Big Three". Next up was McDonalds.
McDonald's Filet-O-Fish
Now this is the cafeteria-style fish sandwich I had been dreading: pale brown breading encased cheap pollock and formed into an unnaturally square shape. Globs of tartar oozed out. I steeled myself and bit in. I was confused at first; it wasn't good, to be sure, but wasn't as repulsive as I remembered these things to be. Could my taste buds be failing me? I feared I would have nothing to write about until I opened the second sandwich (I had opted for the two fish meal) and noticed the off- center orange cheese sticking out the side of the bun, like a tongue razzing me. The first sandwich had lacked the cheese.
Old food wisdom states that one shouldn't mix cheese and fish; and with the exceptions of the tuna melt and lox with a smear, I agree. Cheese, by definition, is spoiled milk, and lends this spoiled flavor to fish. Without cheese the sandwich was merely bad, with cheese it was disgusting. My hopes dashed, I solemnly headed out to my final stop of the "Big Three".
Burger King's BK Big Fish
Morale low, I unwrapped my Big Fish. It looked much like the McDonald's Filet-O-Fish, but, as the name would suggest, was considerably larger. Hoping this would lend itself to a better texture, I tucked in. Immediately all hopes for a finer texture were discarded; the fish was flaky, and even tough. If it were possible for fish to be gristly that would be the word I would use to describe it. Copious amounts of tartar helped mask the fish's flavor with its own, and made holding the filet between the buns a chore. I choked it down and was glad to be done.
The winner here is obvious, and should be no surprise. If you find yourself at a Wendy's with a craving for fish, give the cod filet a chance. Avoid the others, or at least ask them to omit the cheese, and to cut back on the tartar. Hopefully the other biggies will follow Wendy's lead on this one and offer some better fish options.
I'm not really that big on candy. In fact, the only one which I truly love is the Reese's Peanut Butter Cup and any subsequent variation thereupon. Over the past handful of years Reese's has begun selling seasonal "Cups", such as the Reese's Hearts for Valentine's Day, the Reese's Trees for the holiday season, Reese's Pumpkins to pass out to those Halloween Trick-or-Treaters, and the Reese's Eggs and Reester Bunnies which always come out at this time of year.
When we were in Target a few weeks ago I noticed that there were two rabbit-themed Reese's treats for Easter this season. I'd had the Reester Bunnies before, with glee and in such quantities as to put me into a sugar coma, but I had never tried the Reese's Easter Bunny. Both packages state that they contain a "Milk Chocolate Covered Peanut Butter Bunny"; both have the same number of calories and servings, with only marginally different nutrition statistics. However, the chocolate on the Reester Bunny is a thicker version of what you would normally get on a Reese's Peanut Butter Cup, and the chocolate on the Reese's Cup Reese's Easter Bunny is much harder. This is due to the addition of partially-hydrogenated oil and extra cocoa butter to the latter.
The Reester Bunny comes in a festive purple box emblazoned with a Reese's logo; the treat itself is wrapped in white foil that has a cartoonish bunny on the front. Upon inspecting this confection you will see that the actual product only slightly resembles the cartoon bunny on the foil-- other than having the same outline-- but to me that never really matters; when I get a Reester Bunny each year, I bolt that varmint faster than you can say stomach ache. I just love them so very much.
In contrast, the overall aesthetic of the Reese's Easter Bunny is quite understated and lovely. The box is trademark Reese's orange with grass, flowers, and colorful eggs printed along the very bottom. The Bunny is enveloped in golden foil that has a simple sketch of a rabbit on the front. When you remove the foil, the Reese's Bunny is even more ornately hewn than you would have thought-- shaped and designed to a highly exacting standard. And this is where it went wrong.
You see, the more attractive Reese's Easter Bunny has to have the addition of extra cocoa butter and partially hydrogenated oil-- this is to make the product melt more slowly and to keep it self-stable and looking beautiful for longer; sadly, this also affects the flavor. All other Reese's Cup items taste essentially the same, but the Reese's Easter Bunny has an overly sweet, burnt flavor which you only get from adding something like a partially-hydrogenated oil. The peanut butter inside of it is classic Reese's, but the overall effect is bastardized by the differently-tasting and slightly harder chocolate. The Reester Bunny may not be as visually pleasing, but it certainly tastes like a Reese's Cup; in the end, isn't that what you're looking for when you get a Reese's treat?
My verdict is that if you really like the taste of those solid chocolate Easter bunnies that they've been selling for years, but always wished that they would add peanut butter to it for you (instead of having to dip the thing in the peanut butter jar yourself), then the Reese's Cup Easter Bunny is probably something that you'll like. If you would rather have something that tastes like a Reese's Cup and you're not worried about how pretty it is, go for the Reester Bunny.
I had wanted to try the Doritos Locos taco ever since I had first heard about it online. Apparently it has been around for a few months now in select locations. (Toledo, OH, and Fresno and Bakersfield, CA). I felt that I would never have a chance to try these tacos, believing that they would not sell well enough in their test markets.
Thankfully I was wrong and this month Taco Bell released the Doritos Locos nationwide. As I sat down for my first taste, I wondered, would they be worth the wait?
First opening the wrapper, I was surprised by the thin cardboard holder surrounding the taco. The shells did not seem any weaker than normal taco shells, so I wondered what the need for this holder would be. After bringing the shell out a little to take a bite, I instantly realized that this taco holder had an important role to play.
The taco shells definitely reminded me of Doritos, orange powder and all. The cardboard holder was there, at least partially, to keep my hands clean. They also served another purpose, however. I’ve heard that eating slowly makes it so that you don’t eat as much, since your body takes time to realize that it is full. These holders made it so that I could only take small bites.
What did I think of the taste? I really liked it! The Dorito flavor mixed incredibly well with the crunch of the lettuce and the coolness of the sour cream. This was a combination of flavors that I had never had before, and enjoyed greatly.
So were they worth being excited over? In all honesty, I’m not sure. While I loved the taste, I have never really been too fond of the original Nacho flavor of Doritos. I have heard rumors that they will be adding a Cool Ranch version to their menu, so I want to try those out if they do.
Another detractor for me was the price. I did not get the Big Box meal, choosing instead to get the Three Supreme Taco meal. I changed two of those tacos to the Dorito version, adding $1.00 to the total cost of the meal. While I enjoyed the experience of trying the Doritos Locos, at $0.50 a pop, however, I don’t think that I will be ordering these again, except to try the Cool Ranch flavor.
I must confess, both Doritos and Taco Bell are kind of guilty pleasures of mine. I get the odd craving for both every few months or so, then promptly remember why I don't need to eat them more often.
My initial reaction to the tacos was one of mild amusement. I hadn't seen any of the commercials for the product, so unwrapping them was my first visual exposure. Before me were three tacos that looked like someone had dumped the remnants of a spent Doritos bag on them, the powder clinging to the grease. They were even served in cute little holders that bore the Doritos logo, like a little bag. I chose to forgo any condiments and dug in.
The flavor was unremarkable, but tasty enough. It should be no shock that the flavor of nacho cheese pairs just fine with those of a Taco Supreme; sour cream, taco meat, tomato, more orange cheese. And eating one does evoke the Doritos experience, right down to the orange residue on your fingertips.
For me the Doritos Locos Taco was exactly what I was expecting: a standard taco shell that has been covered in Doritos dust. But does this make it a Doritos shell? To me it does not; the texture is a large part of what makes a Dorito what it is, and the texture is certainly not the same. This is almost certainly a necessity, as a chip would likely just shatter on the first bite, but this differing texture does effect the taste slightly. The flavor profile is indeed similar, but to me, it is not the promised 'taco wrapped in a Dorito'.
None the less the Doritos Locos Taco was enjoyable in its own way. It tasted fine, if a bit salty, and it satisfied my guilty pleasures for faux-Mexican food and neon orange cheese. As far as fast food novelties go it's inoffensive (it's no KFC Double Down, a novelty that offended not only the taste buds, but also one's sensibilities), but forgettable. Try it if the you are curious, the extra fifty cents is worth spending, if only once.
I first heard about the Doritos Locos Taco Shells from a Facebook status update of one of my friends; to paraphrase, he ecstatically touted the virtues of the Shells, and thanked Taco Bell for releasing them. Given that I spent most of my youth consuming copious fistfuls of Doritos chips and making questionable outfit choices, the prospect of adding my original guiltly-pleasure-food (Doritos) to one of my adult GPF's (Taco Bell) was too tantalizing too pass up-- ergo , the first time the opportunity to try them appeared, I pounced all over it like a pair of clearance Manolo Blahnik's.
I decided to order the Cheesy Gordita Crunch combo, substituting the Doritos Locos Shell for the standard crunchy shell which would normally be wrapped inside the Gordita. The combo also came with two more tacos of my choice, so I requested they be made with the DL Shells as well. With each DL Shell tacking on an (some would argue) exorbitant $0.50 (the specialty shells added $1.50 to the tally), it crossed my mind that these things had better be pretty freaking delicious if Taco Bell had any hope of getting repeated orders for them.
The very first thing that I noticed upon unwrapping the Gordita Crunch and tacos was that the shells are orange. Not normal Doritos' orangey-powder-on-yellow-corn-chips orange; no, we are talking day-glow, phosphorescent, didn't-exfoliate-before-getting-your-spray-tan orange. Though mildly surprising, this aspect was not in any way repugnant to me. I'm not really sure what I was expecting. If I had, upon entering the establishment, simply taken a good long gander at the window clings announcing the DL Shells, I would have seen the color. Tick that in the box of "My bad".
Truthfully, I'm not really certain why I was expecting anything different; Will and Kenny seemed neither taken-aback nor abashed when tucking into their respective meals. For some reason, what I had been anticipating was a shell more similar in thickness and consistency to a Doritos chip. Thinking upon it after seeing the actual product, it became clear that such a consistency would cause the shells to crumble as rapidly as my hopes for loving them.
Brass tacks: While the DL Shells have the general flavor of Doritos Chips due to a Doritos-flavored powder dusted over the surface (the shells even come in little holsters so that you don't get it on your fingers-- presumably because you would then get it all-the-frig-over yourself), they still do not quite taste like Doritos to me. Perhaps that is because of the texture of the shell itself, which is actually very much like the traditional Taco Bell crunchy shell, yet somehow more fragile, mealy, and replete with a slight greasiness. Moreover, I found it sort of annoying that the flavor profile was so easily overpowered in the case of the Cheesy Gordita Crunch. While I expected the tangy sauce to affect the overall experience, I certainly didn't think that it was capable of completely masking the savory Doritos powder.
Another issue is the flavor of the powder itself. It was tasty enough, but it reminded me more of the off-brand Faux-ritos that my Mother used to get on sale-- leaving one with the taste of something which seems as though it would be classified as "similar, but legally distinct". Eating the DL Shells did not evoke in me the sense that I was munching on something truly made as part of a Doritos line of products. In fact, to me it almost smacked of them attempting to convince me that I was eating something that really tasted quintessentially Doritos; as if the homogenously orange shell was meant to distract me from the fact that they were just a bit off.
Now, don't get me wrong, I actually did like them-- but not enough to pay an additional $0.50 to get them again; they just weren't similar enough to original Doritos for my tastes. However, I highly encourage anyone who wants to try them to do so and see how they feel. It's absolutely worth a shot, and I know several people who love them.
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