It’s that naming thing again – it gets me every time. Hubby bought me a candy-making book for Christmas and I have been dutifully churning out nougat and truffles ever since. Last week I made “caramels”, the end result of which foxed me because they tasted like the chocolate-covered toffees you get in Cadbury’s Roses. Caramel, which, to me, ought to be runny enough to end up on your chin, appears to be the consistency of toffee over here.
Yesterday, I made “toffee”. It’s not, it’s a Dime Bar. Perhaps I’ve been mislabelling my snacks all this time, but I was expecting a chewy delight that stretched out about a metre when I tried to take a bite. This toffee is crunchy and buttery and really very good, but it really isn’t what I was expecting. Fortunately, it’s precisely what Hubby was expecting and I’ve had to hide the tin to stop him eating the whole lot at once.
Oh, and, for those unfamiliar with Dime Bars (“Smooth on the outside, crunchy on the inside” – or, as Pignut so eloquently put it, “Hard toffee… like toffee that just woke up from an erotic dream”), they are a lot like Heath Bars, apparently, or Skor (but without the nasty Hershey’s coating. I’m sorry, but Hershey’s tastes like feet). They were advertised during my formative years by comedian Harry Enfield, who claimed not to like them, instead preferring: “Armadillos! Crunchy on the outside, smooth on the inside”. Genius, but Hubby does have a point when he says UK advertising is a bit mind-boggling.