It
was a commercial when I was a kid. Candy. And the punchline for
it was that the candy was too good for kids, followed up by a
pause and then an adult telling a child essentially that they
were the exception.
Toffifay.
“…it’s
too good for kids, but not too good for you…”
And,
I’m sure like many others, it made me want to try Toffifay. After
all, caramel, hazelnut, chocolate. That sounds like a mix of wonderous
design. According to my grandparents, I was probably good enough
to try them. So, one day when offered the chance to pick out some
candy while at a local store, I did.
And…
yeah. It was ok. Good. Not great. Glad I tried it. Not staying
at the top of my list to check out next time.
Since
then, even as the decades moved along, on occasion the jingle
would get in my head. A couple of years ago I decided to try Toffifay
again. Same result. Good. Not great.
But
the thoughts have stayed with me. And I keep wondering about the
ways too good, not too good, bucket list items I want to try,
and wishes for things I would dearly miss if I couldn’t have them
again might all swirl and overlap in some type of way.
This
afternoon, Terry and I tried a new recipe for hush puppies. Ever
had hush puppies? Think fried corn bread and we’re headed in a
direction where we can find a decent understanding of things.
Well, this recipe was brilliant. I made the batter, Terry cooked
them, and the recipe was pretty much perfect. Some of the best
we’ve ever had. Crisp on the outside, dense and moist on the inside,
perfect. The kicker was that I had been trying to think of something
to serve them with. A dipping sauce of some type. Ended up basing
something on a red pepper jelly and cream cheese, and… well… words
fail in describing the final offering.
For
me, these hush puppies were a tremendous addition to our recipe
files. Great stuff. And that’s the kind of cooking and food I
usually place in the extra special bonus area of stuff. Homemade
and enjoyable.
So,
when you have a candy saying this stuff is so good it might actually
be too good for most people… truly an advertising push that says
you are special if you get to try this… well, I want to experience
the perfect hush puppies and pepper jelly dip of candy. Something
that could be just a tad bit naughty when it comes to watching
what I’m eating, but it’s so good that as an occasional treat
it’s just worth it.
I
probably need to find another example here, because I really don’t
want to knock Toffifay. As far as I know, the recipe has never
been changed since it was first offered in 1973. It’s ok stuff.
I liked it. Just not a personal favorite of mine. Butterfinger?
They changed that recipe recently. Cadbury went through some company
shifts and changed its chocolate recipe. And if we leave the world
of candy, don’t even get me started on McDonald’s moving on from
the fried apple pies. (Those fried apple pies? Too good for you.
The current apple pies? Kids assigned to permanent time out status
qualify for those.)
I
suppose it’s too much to wish that things stay the same. Popcorn
at the movies, right? Tradition. Expectations. We all have certain
activities, like going to the movies, that have associated elements
we almost take for granted.
In
my home state of Rhode Island there is a pizza place. I don’t
want to name it here, because it’s actually one with a few locations,
and I think at least one of those locations is in another state.
The pizza isn’t the best pizza you’ve ever had. It’s really good,
and I like it. But it would never be my automatic first choice
for pizza. But they have this sauce, and it has a really unique
flavor, and when you’re craving that pizza there is absolutely
nothing else that will even remotely come close to satisfying
your craving. It has to be their pizza.
And
that’s where things are not too good for all of us. If we don’t
get what we’re expecting when we order it, we’re going to be disappointed.
And unfortunately, as companies are bought and sold, and as other
factors become involved, the reality is that living up to our
memories is virtually impossible.
Some
things just change. Even when others won’t admit that they have.