Thursday, June 14, 2018

Maltesers Are Not Whoppers: A Tale of a Non-Redundant Candy

The Mystery Candy Once Exclusive to Movie Theaters
Beginning in January of 2017, you may have seen an unfamiliar yet recognizably typical candy pop up in your local multiplex; something called Maltesers that, by all appearances were just a rip-off of Whoppers malted milk balls.  Trumpeted as available exclusively in theaters, you may have wondered where the privilege lay in overpaying for a ripped-off version of a beloved but decidedly unexciting and stodgy candy with no particular present-day cachet.  Initial appearances to the contrary, however, Maltesers have an interestingly different taste, and a fascinating back-story, that make them worth your time.  First then, a little history.

Available for the first time in the United States after more than 70 years as a European candy, Maltesers appear at first glance to simply be a Euro-version of Whoppers malted milk balls.  But look closely, dear reader, and see if you can spot a difference.  Now read on, to see if you're right.

A Prodigal Confection Returns Home
Maltesers are both American and non-American, European and domestic.   Wikipedia classifies them as a "British confectionary product" because they were created there in 1936 and have been primarily a European product ever since.   But their creator was an American, Forrest Mars of the Mars candy fortune, living abroad during a period of estrangement from his father.  While in Europe, he worked for NestlĂ© and Tobler, acquired a British dog food company, and then finally returned to the States where he would create M&M's (inspired by a now-forgotten Spanish candy) while at the head of his own food company, before finally reuniting with Mars, Inc. after the death of his father.  Despite this corporate reunion, Maltesers never accompanied Forrest back across the Atlantic, remaining exclusively a product of Mars Europe until 2017.

What We've Been Missing All These Years
All this history is mere trivia, though, if Maltesers don't have anything special going for them.  They are indeed malted milk balls, just like Whoppers.  But there's an important difference in terms of texture: Maltesers are much lighter.

It's easiest to understand the difference by analogizing to rocks.  Whoppers are like sandstone, fine-grained but densely packed together without much air separating the sandy granules of malted milk.  They offer crunchy resistance to the bite, fracturing, shearing, and then gradually breaking down into smaller chunks and ultimately their constituent grains.  Their relatively thin coating of chocolate wears away and dissolves long before the malted milk center does and so the last thing you taste before the candy dissolves is a pleasingly malty paste, inflected with a touch of cocoa.

Maltesers are more like basalt or pumice, with large voids, giving them an airy lattice-like structure that yields to the bite, weakens quickly, and dissolves soon thereafter, furtively tucking its own remnants into the relatively thick chocolate coating, nestling there in trace amounts as the chocolate slowly dissolves, inflected sweetly and gently by malty notes.  The experience isn't unlike eating cotton candy in that the volume of the sweet impresses and yet disappears rapidly on contact with the tongue.

The nearly identical exteriors of Whoppers and Maltesers conceal great differences on the inside.  Whereas Whoppers are dense and chalky, Maltesers are light and airy.  Incidentally, our new malty friend is pronounced "Malt-teasers" as though they might hail from Malta.  All hail Maltesers!
Conclusions
To note a difference is not to express a preference, and there should be room in the American candy cupboard for both of these malted milk balls.  Whereas Whoppers are bold, snappy, sweet, and crunchy with an aggressive maltiness, Maltesers are winsome, crispy, creamy, and yielding.  I shall refrain from analogizing from their traits to any aspects of the respective American and European characters and simply direct you to your local corner store, where Maltesers are now more broadly available outside of movie venues, to judge for yourself.

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Tuesday, March 27, 2018

Hershey's Gold: Peanuts and Pretzels From Heaven -- But Don't Call It Chocolate


Something New in the Chocolate Space

You may have noticed when perusing the candy aisles that Hershey's has released its first straight "chocolate" bar in quite some time.  Called Hershey's Gold, it promises a "caramelized creme" flavor and is loaded up with peanuts and pretzels.  Absolutely addictive, it's their best new product in over a decade.  

The wrapper is a mass of clichĂ©s: after all, the term "gold" has been abused and overused so much as to be devalued, peanuts and pretzels seem a bit played out, and who knows what "creme" means?  But there is nonetheless confectionary gold in that there bar. 

But Is It Really Chocolate?
Before turning to the sublime taste, let's veer off into the weeds for a second and consider whether it ought to be called a chocolate bar.  There are some for whom the very concept of white chocolate is heretical.  Technically they haven't a right to say so, since genuine white chocolate, a mix of cocoa butter, sugar, milk solids, and flavoring, does derive from the cocoa bean, missing only the dark brown nibs that contain chocolate liquor.  This "golden" chocolate can't even claim that much; it doesn't contain any cocoa butter, instead using a variety of different fats (palm, sunflower, shea, soybean, and safflower oils) in its place, though it does at least contain some emulsifying milk solids.  This was the formula briefly employed by Hershey for their classic Mr. Goodbar before rival Mars called them out for it, mockingly alleging with complete accuracy that Mr. Goodbar couldn't even be called chocolate but instead merely cocoa-flavored vegetable oil.  Today Mr. Goodbar contains some cocoa butter along with the other cheaper fats,  with Hershey reserving the 100% cocoa-butter formula primarily for their iconic flagship chocolate bar.
If the consistency seems a bit crumbly, ragged, and ratty, you might chalk that up to the lack of cocoa butter, which is uniquely creamy and anti-brittle.  Thankfully, this bar is all about butterscotch flavor.
Who Cares?  It's Devastatingly Delicious
This is all quite interesting to someone obsessed with these things like me, but if you're a prospective eater, you really just want to know how it tastes.  All I can say is that, unlike any other new candy that's come out recently, I just can't stop buying and devouring this one.  While the absence of cocoa butter makes it texturally thin (cocoa butter is extra viscous and creamy) this bar has the salty-sweet thing down in spades.  Taking a bite and waiting for it to melt, the little shards of pretzel and peanut present themselves to your taste buds, bidding you to crunch, at which point your mouth is awash in brown-sugary butterscotch flavor, little sparkles of salt crystal, and earthy peanut pretzel-bits that tie it all together with textural diversity.  It's a lot of pleasure for around a buck, so get out and buy one!
A view of the underside reveals a thin bar shot through with a rubble of peanut and pretzel fragments that offers a crunchy counterpart to the creamy/salty/tangy caramelized body of the bar.