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The Archie McPhee Odd Candy Taste Test
This last Sunday, Eustace C. Scrubb posted about his foray into the strange world of Archie McPhee. He posted several rather odd flavors of candy cane that one can find at Archie McPhee. Now, I have long been a connoisseur of Archie McPhee’s fine offerings of useless crap and odd foods. I once gave my brother a yodeling pickle (wearing lederhosen, no less) from Archie McPhee.¹ It is a place where one will not find items in good taste. Occasionally, they do offer things that taste good, but kale-flavored candy canes may not be in that category.
Still, I am a man of adventure. I decided to take the challenge and try some of the offerings. Most of the flavors of candy canes also come as hard candies in tins. This offers several advantages, but the main one is that they are individually-wrapped, bite-sized pieces. Candy canes, even for a mouth the size of mine, do not tend to be bite-sized. I ordered five flavors of their candies.
As I opened my box, and lifted out the candy tins, the first troubling sign was seen, on the bottom of each tin, the ingredients were stuck on a label. On top of the label was a notice that the tin contained “About 12 Pieces.” I shall soon know whether that is warning, threat, or other sort of notification. Of course the ingredients were sugar, corn syrup, water, artificial flavors and colors, but the three dreaded words at the bottom of the tag were scarier than the artificial flavors and colors: “Made in China.” I’m sorry, America. I have let you down. It did not say this on the Website. If my health suffers from some strange and novel virus from the land of death, be kind to my widow. I have done this for you, Ricochet
And so, on to the flavor test.
Pizza
Many of my choices were dictated by what I can and cannot eat. Mostly. If I can eat something, like kale, I did not bother buying that particular flavor of candy. No, the main flavors of interest to me were those that due to celiac disease, I cannot experience in a safe and normal manner. For me to eat pizza, I am forced to make it myself, especially the crust. I can’t just go around the corner to Shield’s or another pizza joint and get my fill. Thus, pizza-flavored candy sounded like a fine idea.
Impressions: Lovely. The ingredient list included “Artificial Pizza Flavor.” I detect no hint of an artificial crust flavor or an artificial cheese flavor. It tastes like sweetened overcooked pepperoni, the sort of pepperoni that has dried out and become crusty and perhaps a bit blackened. Being mostly sugar and corn syrup, the candy is quite sweet. After a few minutes, the burnt pepperoni taste sort of grows on me. The candy is quite long lasting. I still have a small sliver going at the fourteen-minute mark.
And now for a swig of tea and on to the next taste test.
Fried Chicken
For similar reasons to the pizza, I ordered the Fried Chicken Candy. To properly fry chicken, one must have a breading, right? It seems like centuries since I have had fried chicken. I am not a normal chicken fan. The dinosaurs just don’t do a lot to move my happy mouth needle. But fried chicken? With plenty of breading and fat? That is an acceptable delivery method for dinosaur protein.
Impressions: Oh My Cod! This is horrible. As with the pepperoni flavor, it tastes overcooked. Is this how they like food to taste in China? If so, count me out. I could cook a dirty, old sneaker to taste better than this. I am now five minutes in and waiting for the flavor to mellow and grow on me as the burnt pepperoni did. Nothing so far. Still vile. If this lasts another nine minutes, I’ll be needing mouthwash instead of tea. This is the taste of disappointment. The flavor does attenuate, as one would expect from long-term exposure to any flavor. That first bite of pesto-covered tortelloni is always better than the bites to come. Your sensing apparatus becomes desensitized. After ten minutes, I mainly just taste an unpleasant sweetness.
Ginger
It is time for a break from the grand experiments. I am not brave enough to sample the next disappointment yet. Knowing such, I bought tins of a flavor I knew I would like.
After brushing my teeth, then thoroughly rinsing with mouthwash, bleach, and lye, I had most of that wretched chicken flavor out of my mouth.
Impressions: Ah, ginger. Very pleasant. Not too hot or biting. A pleasant interlude from the assault committed by the last, and probably by the next. I’ll just bounce this candy around my mouth while humming a pleasant tune.
Mac & Cheese
Macaroni and cheese is something else I might not have had in decades. This was to be my greatest hope. I really miss mac & cheese. But the label on the bottom only mentions “Artificial Cheese Flavor.” Nothing about artificial macaroni flavor.
Impressions: As I open the tin, a smell wafts out to assault my nostrils. Is that cheddar cheese? Limburger, perhaps? Perhaps it was a better cheese that has gone off and is now covered with inedible green mold as the rancid cheese melts into a goo that will be difficult to clean up from anything it touches? It is the smell of disappointment. Still, I pop it into my mouth and start the process of dissolving it. The flavor is not bad after the first minute. I suppose it is supposed to be a cheddar or “American” cheese. It is definitely not a cheese that should be combined with the sweetness of the candy. Still, it is not as trauma inducing as the fried chicken. It is even more palatable than the pizza. It is not as good as the ginger, but really, it isn’t terrible. It reminds me of something I have had in the past. With the sweetness, it would be better with an artificial ricotta flavor rather than whatever cheese they were attempting. I am wondering what it would be like to combine it with the burnt pepperoni of the supposedly pizza-flavored candy, but haven’t the heart to try it today.
Bacon
Surely the bacon will be fine. I mean, pork and sweetness just go together. Bacon and ham are often sugar-cured or honey-cured. How could they screw up bacon?
Impressions: Opening the tin, the first whiff is promising. I pop one in my mouth and…oh good Cod! What have they done? Like the pepperoni and chicken flavors, it tastes of burnt offerings to an evil communist god. Still, after a few minutes, it gets better. The burned taste is not as bad, and the bacony taste comes through a bit more, along with the sweetness. It’s not good, but it’s not nearly as bad as the chicken. I would rate it on the second tier from the bottom with the pizza-flavored candy.
Rankings
I would definitely recommend the ginger candy, if you like ginger, and at least last Sunday, it was on sale for half price, probably meaning it is going the way of the DoDo Bird-Flavored Candies they used to sell. The ginger candy is good.
Next would be the Mac & Cheese, which is really only cheese. I would not go out of my way to get it again, but it’s better than the meat ones.
Bacon and Pizza are on the next tier. They were fine experiments, but no thanks.
The fried chicken? Never again!
1. I didn’t really give it to my brother, I bought it for a White Elephant Exchange gift, figuring that I would easily win as giving the tackiest and most tasteless gift.² I seem to remember that someone else unwrapped it, and my brother traded to get it. He actually liked it. Well, understand that he is my brother.
2. No, I did not win. My step-sister had found an ashtray in an abandoned office. It had two poorly stuffed chipmunks who had apparently been abused by a mad taxidermist. It was awful. Years later, I still have nightmares, and I didn’t even wind up taking it home. After seeing that monstrosity, I firmly declared no more White Elephant Gift Exchanges for me.
Published in Science & Technology
How ever you choose to interpret it.
I regularly review energy drinks on my Facebook page.
The most recent adventure was . . .
The “flavor” here is “Rainbow Unicorn,” which I described as “like a big bowl of Skittles. Not any particular flavor of Skittles, but all of them melted together, perhaps garnished with a sprinkling of Nerds and poured into a glass spun from cotton candy.“
Also, this Strawberry Jalapeño flavor.
“First off, it has a sneeze-inducing aroma, particularly if you pour it in a glass and then take a whiff. The jalapeño flavor is there at the start, and then a bit in the aftertaste, though mostly you get strawberry flavor. But it’s impossible to enjoy it as just strawberry, because there’s that weird jalapeño thing that’s kicking around on the edges of your senses. Ultimately, though it’s light on jalapeño, it’s got enough jalapeño presence to make you want to give up and just pour it down the sink. “
Uh, were you wearing the lederhosen or was the pickle?
The pickle.
Or both at the same time?
Don’t give anyone ideas.
Thief!
And just what were you doing in lederhosen anyway. That’s cultural appropriation, that is. I’d call the cops if they hadn’t been defunded.
Nein. I am an eighth German. Names like Mieher and Jacobs on that branch of the family.
The drop-front flap concept intrigues me.
“Don’t talk about the war.”
A pocket-like thingie. Buttons at the top. Sometimes it is just a patch where the pocket thingie should be. The one on the cartoon looks more like one of those.
I don’t know the German name for the pocket-like thingie. It’s in German, of course, so it is probably seventeen syllables long and causes adenoid damage when properly pronounced.
It is however a good language in which to be angry.
Der Latz.
Could be Flügelschlag for all you know.
In this section of the article, it is in the third paragraph on the second line, at least as it formats on my computer.
I received a yodeling pickle for Christmas last year!
Once you get one you wonder how you ever lived without it.