Blackfriars Bakewell Flapjack

I was strolling around my local Holland & Barratt store, and came across Blackfriars cake range, something my brother had eaten for a phase in his teens. Only previously eaten these on the rarest of occasions, I picked up a Bakewell Flapjack to give them another go.

Bakewell tarts/pies (I won’t get into that) are a real treat for me, and I seem to have a weak spot for those good old retro cakes, so the mix of flapjacks and Bakewells (see what I did there?) got me all tempted. Grabbing the bar I was impressed by the weight, coming in at 100g, and opened the pack to a sweet almond odour. Sometimes almonds can smell off putting, but here it was employed successfully and built up a high level of expectation. But this didn’t quite meet those The ‘iced’ topping was rather plane on its own, but added a necessary texture change to the oat bar beneath, which was dense and more greasy rather than buttery. The taste was dominated by that almond element, and was at the very limit of edible as a result of the heavy use of almond essence. Luckily I like almonds but they really are not to everyone’s taste so a quick warning!

Very little influence came from the fruit jam layer between the bar and topping (acknowledged as ‘white chocolate flavour’), and so seemed a bit pointless. But I ate it any way.

And then I was done. Wow, these are more than ample! Any appetite was crushed and stayed away for most of the rest of the day, but I was left feeling that the bar (and also the rest of range which is quite extensive) tried to create interesting variations whilst overlooking some obvious flaws in its fundamental flapjack.

Walkers Tomato Ketchup Crisps

Tomato Ketchup crisps are such an obvious concoction when considered, as like salt and vinegar, the combination is regularly indulged upon dinner tables and in take-aways throughout the world. It seems far more natural than the oddly similar prawn cocktail certainly, so I can’t help but wonder why there are not more available?

Walkers Tomato Ketchup flavour crisps also seem to suffer from the lack of marketing interest and are no longer Heinz branded, but I feel they demand more attention than what they get. When I was younger I would regularly enjoy these alongside the defunct Marmite variety, but they both have long side lost the shelf space they seemed to previously command and these I now rarely see. Having tracked a bag down, I was eager to find out whether my fond memories as greedy little child were perhaps misinformed, and tucked in quickly!

I always compared the smell of the crisps to that of a bottle of ketchup on a warm day, or in a temperate greasy spoon, and found the recognisable aroma still occupying the bag.

They have a slight spicy, sweet tomato taste with the important hint of vinegar that gives them a slight edge. I do feel typical Walkers crisps are relatively thin in comparison to more prestige brands and although this allows the flavour to distribute well, it misses out on the potential of a quality spud. Saying that, they are as good as I remember and just wish they were more readily available!

Quordon Muffin Co. Apple and Custard muffin

The recent trend in ‘Classic British’ style products has filled our shelves’ with everything from designer brand Union jack t-shirts to Royalist tat, most likely thanks in-no-small part to Wills and Kate‘s wedding, the growing hype for the 2012 London Olympics and a bunch of old Etonians in being back government (not that I can comment on politics, after all I blog about junk food). Those associated quaint habits have clearly influenced recent product innovations, attempting to capture (re: cash in) the spirit of both “the good old days” and the national psyche.

I don’t really mind this, so long as there’s a bit of humour and some irony is involved, and this creation is pleasingly perverse as it combines an American –style Muffin with a classic British pudding of stewed Apple and Custard. The packet highlights the concept with the bold union jack colour scheme and London-road sign label proclaiming the ‘Best of British’

With suggestions for it to be eaten either warm or stright from the pack, I chose the latter option.Taking the cake from the wrapper, I was met by the combined aromas of the baked product with a subtle light ‘apple’, and distinctly reminded me of the apple flavour Nutri-grains.

I found it very soft and moist, and thankfully free of that clingy cream of tartar mouth feel that can tarnish commercial bakery products. However, its taste didn’t emphasise either the apple or custard greatly, and only had a subtle suggestion of the fruit coming with the small pieces in the muffin itself. The custard filling felt lost, due to the moist softness of the surrounding muffin and its comparative viscosity. In fact, if I tried to serve similar, I would get an ear-full that it doesn't constitute a liquid. But I digress.

The pleasingly substantial size along with the delightfully soft light texture and mouth feel made it an enjoyable experience, but I was left underwhelmed by the flavour. If it was slightly better developed and had a greater influence Quordon could really be on to something with these re-imagined classics.

Fabulous Bakin' Boys Honey and Fruit Flapjack

I grabbed this at a half price discount, and having eaten (and been impressed by) the regular Fabulous Bakin’ Boys Flapjack variety before I had high hopes for this Honey and Fruit version.

Tucking in, I was aware at how gooey it was in my hands, with a moist and slightly sticky (in a good way) crumb. The buttery aroma and familiar rich oaty taste were both evident, but surprisingly the fruit, seeds and honey, (which should be making it distinct) seemed to lack any contribution to the flavour. A few more bites in, and I could begin to sense a honey-ish hint and could notice a small textural change with the other embellishments, but they didn’t contribute much else.

The fantastic flapjack at the core of the product dominated the other aspects of it, and was enjoyable for that alone. Its just a real shame the additional constituents were not as successful.

Needler's Turkish Delight

Needler’s are brand that I wasn’t terribly familiar with (only knowing the name from ‘caramel cups’ tubs in sweet shop) so when I picked this up, I felt I'd better check out a little background information. But, it seems like even the totalitarian grip of Google cant offer up much about the company… And after a few miss directed searches, I discovered they were founded in the 1890’s, and are now owned by Ashbury chocolates, the manufactures of many supermarket own brand chocolates (and infamously criticised by Gordon Ramsey, even though the chocolates that bear his name are also produced by them). But I tried to put this aside, and consider the bar on its own merits, whatever they may be…

The bar featured several blocks of rose Turkish delight encased in chocolate. This outside layer looked similar to Bournville chocolate, with a semi dark colour and a claimed 30 percent cocoa mass (min). Whilst Bournville is far from gourmet, it sadly turned out to be several paces ahead of this. The greasy low quality chocolate had a lack of melt and split like warm chocolate, with little snap. I initially thought of the uneasy melt-free texture of U.S chocolate, and upon inspection I noticed the bar is exported to the hot climate of Australia. At least I knew the bar didn’t intentionally mean to offend!

The filling though had no such excuse, and was lacklustre in its contribution to the bar. A synthetic composition meant there were none of the floral perfumes associated with authentic Turkish delight, and was in truth, rather bland. In fact, that seems to be the best way to sum the entire experience up, not offensive, but entirely forgettable.

Ambrosia Crumble Puds- Rhubarb compote variety

Ambrosia! The food of gods and which bestows immortality. Crumble, the humble dessert with origins in Second World War rationing. And Custard, the ultimate comfort food, and the perfect addition to a British pud. All in one pot?!?! Giggle J

Right, got that out of my system. These Ambrosia custard duo pots (which sadly don’t give immortality, and to the best of my knowledge, were never eaten by Greek gods) arrived on shelves about 12 months ago, and feature a single tub of ‘crumble pieces’ with a second, larger serving of fruit compote and custard. Initially, opening up the lid, I was immediately aware of a sweet Rhubarb smell emanating from inside, and interestingly taken by the presentation. The dessert was effectively deconstructed, with the fruit compote layered beneath the custard, and had a separate crumble portion, which was to be sprinkled (or tipped if desired!) on top. This interactive element with the classic constituents of the pudding made, for me, the experience of eating all the more enjoyable.

I won't bore you with my opinions on Ambrosia brand custard, but it is a vibrant yellow fast-track to creamy diabetic shock...

The compote was remarkably sweet for Rhubarb, but was pleasingly natural in taste and odour. Its position under the custard still allowed its full flavour to be appreciated, and complemented the creamy Ambrosia perfectly. The Crumble meanwhile, was slightly salty and remarkably similar to digestive biscuits. Although very tasty and moreish, it’s not a proper crumble topping, which I always think should soften in the mouth into a rich, and buttery mix.

Aditionally, the pieces were displeasingly uniform in shape, in fact they were closer to animal feed pellets than the knobbly pieces of goodness a homemade Crumble would have, and as a result I had a unappetising associations with them even before they graced my mouth.

Whilst I may appear to not like certain elements, it is a pleasurable (if sweet) pudding, and although not the most sophisticated or accurate, it is a good mass-market interpretation that will satisfy most.

In a Word and a Number... Disassembled [74]