My first clue should have been that they’re named after arguably the dullest creatures on the planet, but it was not. My second perhaps ought to have been the tactile and interesting packaging, a strategy all too often employed to hide the faults of what’s inside. But it was not.
Hubby and I are enjoying a marathon of episodes from the last season of The West Wing; once we reach the end of these discs, there will be no more political goodness to come, so it’s a bittersweet indulgence. In honour of the final episodes, Hubby brought home some Goldfish Crackers, preferred snack food of CJ Cregg, my telly-based heroine.
So disappointing. I was not aware it was possible to make a snack food be quite so boring. They’re not unpleasant – they’re too boring to be unpleasant – but it is rather like chewing on a toilet roll with a vague aroma of cheddar.
I was thinking of feeding them to the cat to offset the sugar we suspect she got into this afternoon, but it would have pulled her back too far from the sugar high and then bored her to death.
For the Brits: they’re a lot like those Cheese Savouries you get at Christmas that nobody actually likes but everyone eats anyway. The ones in the shape of diamonds, hearts, clubs and spades, for no reason, though these ones are shaped like a fish, also for no reason.
Their distinguishing feature is that they taste very slightly burned (though how you burn cardboard is beyond my ken), but not burned enough to be less boring. Not really even burned enough to comment on, unless you’re desperately seeking a distinguishing feature for a snack that equals, essentially, chewing on the edge of a ring binder.
Unfortunately, they grow on you. I don’t know how, or why, because at no point does shoving a handful into your mouth become any more rewarding. Perhaps I am more optimistic than I thought. Either way: CJ Cregg, I have lost my faith in you.