In which our intrepid adventurers explore a world of oddly flavoured confectionery…
For our recent trip to Sci Fi Weekender in north Wales, my compadres and I were well stocked with food and drink. Along with the usual savoury food stuffs, there was plenty of sweet: chocolate, cakes, Twinkies. All the good stuff.
And yet, with the reckless abandon of enthusiasm and the bravado of beer, we were destined for far murkier waters.
Some time previously, I had purchased some novelty rock on a trip to Rhyl. You know what rock is – long cylindrical sticks; usually peppermint flavoured; either chewy or (as the name suggests) hard and brittle. Brightly coloured sticks of sugar, the quintessential seaside souvenir.
It was three sticks for a quid, and I bought these flavours:
- Chicken Tikka
- Cookie Dough
After a few beers one night, I decided it was time to experiment with these substances and see what the effects were. Here are my observations.
Now I love Indian food. However Chicken Tikka rock is not to die for. Imagine, if you will, the miserable surprise of sweet tasting rock being replaced by a vaguely spicy Asian flavour. My brain thought a cruel trick was being played on it. The rock was chewy rather than hard. The taste was bland; with a strange, mild spiciness. Like licking a stick of celery that had been waved near a curry flavoured Pot Noodle. The only good thing is that this rock wasn’t hot spicy at all, just leaving an insipid warmth on the tongue. Totally vile.
Disgusto rating: 3/5
Next up was the Fish’n’Chips flavour. Now what could go wrong – the amalgamation of two British seaside classics, rock that tastes of fish and chips? More like what couldn’t go wrong. The chewy rock was strangely missing the traditional sweetness, instead it was a truly bland flavour with a remote hint of ancient battered cod. But the smell of it was utterly putrid – a million maritime nightmares sheltering in the salty cove of your mouth. Plain sailing this was not – Fish’n’Chips rock is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever put in my mouth. Like that time when, as a kid, you fell over while paddling in the sea; and got a mouth full of salty seawater, seaweed, and dead crab.
Disgusto rating: 5/5
After the previous monstrosity, I was actually looking forward to Cookie Dough flavour. Surely this one would be OK? After all, the previous two varieties suffered from the juxtaposition of sweet becoming savoury. No such luck. Cookie Dough, despite being generally fantastic when added to ice cream, does no favours for rock. It just tasted of aniseed. Big disappointment. Like being given an Easter Egg that looks great, but tastes of punch in the face.
Disgusto rating: 2/5
All in all not an experience I would like to repeat. Though it was pretty funny…
Here’s what my friends had to say about the whole sorry affair:
Adam: “They smelt like the arse hole of a dead badger and pretty sure that’s what they tasted like too…. I can still taste it now late at night when it’s quiet in the house and I’m alone in my thoughts.”
Greeny: “I only tried the fish one, I didn’t dare try any others after that cos I wanted to die. It tasted like cat shit and feet, wrapped in a thong that Jordan had worn for a month. And it smelt pretty much like that too.”