Wednesday, 27 February 2013

Twiglets: the vilest snack ever made?

Last week I had the misfortune of eating a bag of Twiglets.

I was starving after my zumba class on Friday night and ducked into the Waitrose to get a snack for the tube ride home. After searching for the single pack crisps/snacks for ages, I finally found them below the sandwich fridge. I reach for the Walkers prawn cocktail when I spy something I'd not tried before. A bag of Twiglets.

Now those of you familiar with this snack will probably be thinking 'No, don't do it!', but since I do like trying new things I decided to buy these - they seemed healthy-ish and promised to be 'zingy' and 'crunchy' for 'all round sensual satisfaction'. Never did a snack sound sexier.

The Original Twiglets.
The black packaging probably should've given it away - any snack that looked like that probably tastes like liquorice or Marmite. For me, liquorice only tastes good in rope form and Marmite only when spread very thinly on bread or crackers, preferably with lots of cheese.

There's no mystery over the name of the snack - they look like little sticks with little nodules. So they look a little weird (maybe a bit like an arthritic witch's fingers), but they probably taste ok, right?

Inside the bag: little twigs
Wrong! I'd imagine this is what charcoal would taste like. Charcoal with a hint of burnt cheese. The first taste that hits you is pure bitterness. Bitterness that I paid good money for this bag of evil tasting things. More evil than brussel sprouts, but brussel sprouts don't pretend to be a tasty snack. Then a secondary flavour, like the taste of cheese that has been burnt onto a baking tray, which you prise off and put in your mouth because the bin is too far away. (That was probably the best tasting part.)

You'll notice the package says 'Original'. This is probably from the early stone age when fire was discovered and people ate the burnt out twigs that were left after the fires burned down. I'm sure they tasted just like that too.

So were they at least zingy and crunchy? Crunchy, yes. Zingy? There's more zing in a bowl of plain old porridge than in this little bag of vileness. As for all round sensual satisfaction, it did assault my sense of taste, were ugly little things and one of the damn things poked a hole in my upper palate, so while not satisfactory, it did try and get all my senses, including a visceral feeling of disgust that I ate the whole bag. I was hungry, ok?! I would've eaten a bag of charcoaly dry sticks - and did!

No comments:

Post a Comment