Fruitful Discoveries, I Shall Share

Recommended: Bananas.

Not Recommended: Leaving an already extremely ripe banana in your desk over a long weekend.

Not Entirely Unpleasant Side Effect of Above Caution: Subtle banana scent adopted by desk, cubicle and surrounding environs.

Combodious

Once upon a time, I routinely engaged my friends in lengthy conversations about a certain snack food. They weren't so much conversations as they were hymnal duets in praise of the mighty Combo. We spoke of Combos when we had several varieties spread before us, and we spoke of Combos when there were none in sight. Simply, we composed odes to Combos because we loved them.

It was during one of these inspiring discussions that one of my dear Combo-loving friends queried: "Is there any type of Combo that you don't like?" Several of us, sitting around the kitchen table, started at one another and thought hard...but ultimately came up empty. Certainly, there were varieties of Combos that we preferred - I for example, hold the Pretzel- Cheddar flavor supreme above all others, and much prefer the Pretzel varieties over the Cracker (after much prodding I once revealed that I would never buy, with my own money, any Cracker variety if a Pretzel option was available) but I still like the Cracker varieties. Sometimes they are exactly what I need. But no - none of us could conceive of a situation where we would be disappointed by a Combo.

And so it went, everything in the Comboverse in happy harmony, with all of us loving the delicious combinations of crunchy carbohydrates and artificially flavored cheese sprays. And then one day, last fall, I came across a new flavor. Salsa Combos? With a tortilla crust? What was this blasphemy? I was thrown - but intrigued. I purchased them. And they were everything great that I knew a Combo to be...and then some. It was a new generation of Combo. Edgier, modern, showing multi-ethnic influence. It was the Combo of a new world.

After that new prototype was received - to wide acclaim, based on the taste test I conducted amongst 5 of my friends - all was quiet in the Combosphere for nearly a year and a half. Combos remained perfect, with an unblemished record of product enjoyment. I was sure the Combo could do no wrong by my taste buds. Certain of it. Until now.

Oh, Black Thursday, when I walked into the 7-11 on State Street and stumbled across not one but TWO new flavors of Combos! Both Cracker, such a bad sign. And the flavors? Cheeseburger...and Bacon, Egg and Cheese. Of course I was skeptical, of course, but what could I do? In the name of research, in the name of love, I bought them both. And sampled them. To disastrous effect.

Shame on you, Combo! Shame on you for creating not one nauseating new variety but TWO flavors so gut punishingly revolting that I throw up in my mouth a little bit every time I revisit the traumatic tasting of this afternoon. What the FUCK were you thinking, Combos?????? This is worse than when I found out about Santa Claus.

For shame, Combos. For shame.

Another Disappointment, Brought to You by The Holiday Season

Hey, you know what's fucking disgusting?

Brigham's new seasonal flavor: Frozen Pudding. Did you get excited and sort of confused reading that? Yeah. Let me save you $4.50 and a really heartbreaking let-down in the field of frozen confections. Read on.

Here's what happened: This weekend, I was visiting my neighborhood White Hen Market, picking up supplies for the impending Nor'easter. (I ended up with Camel Lights, toilet paper, orange juice, lottery tickets, toothpaste, dog food, dish soap and trash bags. Don't you hate when you run out of normal-person stuff all at once? It makes me feel like I'm starting my life all over after running away or something.) In the course of my errand, I paused by the ice-cream-delights door of the freezer section. After eliminating all the Ben & Jerry's flavors as tired, my eyes stopped on something new in the Brigham's section. Seasonal flavor alert! I love seasonal flavors! And from Brigham's no less - the people who have mastered the ultimate seasonal flavor - Peppermint Stick. How could I go wrong?

In this case, the seasonal carton was labeled 'Frozen Pudding'. And I thought 'score'. Because what do I like more than ice cream? Pudding. Brigham's had magically combined the two for the Holiday Season? Gorgeous. I put it in my little hand cart. Frozen Pudding was coming home with me.

I'm going to skip the part of the story where I take the Frozen Pudding home, dish it out, and lovingly dig into it with my special little long-handled spoon. I am going to skip it, because it is too traumatic, and I'm honestly not done processing those emotions yet. Suffice to say, the cause of my shock and horror: I had ended up purchasing the most offensively foul tasting frozen food ever created. In sum:

THIS PRODUCT DOES NOT TASTE LIKE PUDDING. THIS IS SOME OLD PERSON EUPHEMISM FOR 'HORRENDOUS FROZEN MIXTURE OF VOMIT AND DRIED FRUIT'.

There should be a disclaimer-tag affixed to each carton. It should be printed in bright yellow, with raised lettering: WARNING: DO YOU LOVE ACTUAL PUDDING? IMAGINE EXACTLY THE OPPOSITE OF ALL THE WONDERFUL THINGS PUDDING IS. THAT IS WHAT YOU WILL FIND INSIDE THIS CONTAINER OF COLD, CREAMY DAIRY HELL. At the register, you should be required to sign a waiver before purchasing or consuming this product, to confirm that you have read and understand what will happen inside your mouth upon consumption.

In hindsight, maybe I should have done my due diligence and inquired about the ingredients. I would have then discovered that Frozen Pudding is sadistic ice cream industry slang for 'Vanilla ice cream with seven fruits (pineapple, peaches, pears, raisins, apricots, red and green cherries) marinated in dark rum' and I would have said 'Holy fuck, that sounds atrocious, and what the fuck is a green cherry?' and saved us all this trouble. Oh well. Hindsight is 20/20...and I'm a blind damn fool for pudding.