Failed food: Cadbury Picnic Hedgehog

Cadbury Picnic Hedgehog

What were they thinking? Take a hedgehog, remove its spines, dessicate it, add chocolate flavour, and roll it into a Cadbury Picnic. It doesn’t sound promising: Cadbury Picnic Hedgehog.

Come to think of it, we don’t even have hedgehogs in Australia! Your average teenage chocolate-bar-buyer probably doesn’t even, like, know what a hedgehog is. The bar should perhaps have been called a Picnic Echidna for the local market. I’ll check the ingredients list to see if it’s only made from local ingredients. Hmm, can’t tell. Perhaps there’s an illicit trade in dessicated hedgehog. AQIS should be told!

My local Coles supermarket was clearing the shelves of ‘New’ Cadbury Picnic Hedgehogs. Special! Clearance! Within the best before date. How could I resist?

A unique combination of peanuts, chocolate fudge, biscuit pieces, caramel and wafer in delicious Cadbury milk chocolate.

Deep down I knew there were no mammals involved. Hedgehogs just don’t work in confectionery. The manufacturer, Cadbury, was apparently thinking of that Australian slice-staple Hedgehog, mostly made of crushed biscuits, chocolate, butter, sugar and nuts.

The Cadbury Picnic Hedgehog (formerly known as ‘New’, now ‘Clearance’) bore no resemblance to Hedgehog. Really. To say someone was even thinking of Hedgehog when they developed this product would be stretching things. Take one Picnic bar, remove the rice crispy bits, add biscuit nuggets and pieces of so-called fudge. Bite into it.

Stop!

Those fudge pieces are quite firm. Firm enough to make you think the chocolate bar contains foreign bodies (think: contamination scare). Was I about to break a tooth on a stone?

The very firm little ‘fudge’ pieces were thin and rectangular and tasted just a bit of chocolate. A textural disaster. The nuggets of biscuit were flavourless and powdery. This Picnic was on a downer.

I love the idea of product development. All that balancing of flavours and textures, shapes and nuances, sounds like heaps of fun. Companies tend to be quite secretive about these things and employ experienced professionals to devise new products. So what happened here? Experts’ day off at Cadbury? An executive whim imposed on the consuming public? I’m writing to Cadbury as you read.

– DM

About showing one’s undies

Man. Woman. Curdled custard. Authors have made millions from explorations (in print {ehem}) of the seemingly incomprehensible differences between the hairier and the curvier sexes. Talk of Venus and Mars, emotion vs logic, blahdiblah. All those tiresome clichés over the barbecue — the blokes in the garden moaning about their missuses (the plural of wife) and the ladies loitering in the kitchen whinging about their useless insensitive hubbies.

Deepening the male-female mutual comprehension divide — for those who experience it — there seems to be yet another point of difference. My Google homepage, which serves up a range of feeds from news services, sciency things and other trivia, suddenly delivered me into the world of flashing one’s underwear. One of the feeds is from wikiHow. It tells people all sorts of useful things like how to survive falling through ice on a lake, how to fold a napkin, how to become a sophisticated adult (I passed). On the day in question, the featured article was How to Get out of a Car Gracefully Without Showing Your Underwear

Now, I don’t know about you, dearest fully-clad reader, but I ain’t never shown me knickers whilst disembarking from an automobile. It was a danger I had never imagined. Life as a male can be so innocent. Are women everywhere living in fear of that first step out of their car? Afraid of lecherous men hiding behind carpark pillars? Secret cameras embedded in the pavement next to the parking meter?

I clicked the link through to the full article and understood the problem immediately. Just look at the educational image.

I mean, she’d show her undies if she so much as breathed deeply. Scandalous. No wonder the advice includes:

Even if you’re careful, you might end up showing a glimpse of your underwear. Make sure they’re clean and flattering just in case.

Indeed!

The solution is quite technical and I shan’t bore you with the multi-step instructions for exiting the vehicle. It’s a mixture of dance-step and yoga. The advice to:

Practice in private before you go out, and have a friend watch you so you can make sure you look good and you’re not showing off your underwear.

seems particularly important. If you have no sense of rhythm, ladies, I’d say your best bet is to wear culottes.

I’ve been digesting the article’s words of wisdom over the past days. Watching people getting out of cars. Observing people on trains and trams. Staring at women in cafés. I just don’t see the problem. Or, more to the point, I think the problem has been obviated. Have you noticed, dear suited-up reader, that people are showing their undies all over the place? Why worry about knicker-no-nos while getting out of a car if half the population is already showing the back of their G-strings at Sunday brunch?

Although I at first felt this was a girlie problem, I now believe one should be much more concerned about male undies. We’ve become inured to the once-outrageous fashion of displaying the branded elastic waist of men’s briefs. Now that every Brad and his mate is showing his Calvins or Aussiebums, it’s a disappointment when someone’s t-shirt rides up to reveal an absence of branded elastic. While men-with-undies thought they were groundbreakingly risqué, ‘ghetto’ boys had been letting half their bum hang out of their jeans for quite a while already.

If anybody has been looking (the mothers in the audience might nod in horrified agreement), a good proportion of the under-20 population has been showing rather more than their waist band recently. Yesterday, on an innocent suburban train journey, I copped an eyeful of a teenager’s right buttock. His jeans slid below the leg of his briefs as he got up to leave the carriage. It’s a wonder he could still walk when the beltline of the jeans was so dangerously low. And what was keeping the jeans up at all?

With G-strings at brunch and buttocks on the daily commute, getting out of a car without showing one’s undergarments is quite obviously a redundant concern.

– DM

Burn your hot cross! It’s time for something Swedish

ready to eat

Think of Easter and food, and you probably get images of chocolate eggs and hot cross buns. How about a change from the mundane? A diversion from arguments about peel-or-no-peel in the hot cross buns or whether people expressing affection for chocolate hot cross buns should be crucified?

I’ve never seen these in Australia (though I’m sure there’ll be some expats cooking them for family and friends), so get ready for another sweet surprise before Easter. Scrumptious little buns from Sweden — edible ones, not those of some tennis player. Known as semlor or fastlagsbullar, these babies are fairly simple to make and much too easy to eat. After spending five winters in southern Sweden, I can assure you I had had ample opportunities for detailed examination of the product (also known as gorging oneself).

Officially, they’re a pre-Lenten delight, which of course means that you shouldn’t eat them in the 40 days before Easter. More precisely, they should only be eaten during Shrovetide: Monday in southernmost Sweden (home of the term fastlagsbullar), and Shrove Tuesday elsewhere.

The astute reader will have noticed that I’m writing about these buns much too late. It’s almost Good Friday. However, few Swedes have qualms about consuming semlor anytime between the beginning of January (just like Easter eggs, they appear earlier every year) and Easter, so why quibble about religious tradition?

The basic concept: Cardamom, cream, marzipan; all in a sweet bread. They’re an institution across Sweden, with annual competitions to find the best baker, and frequent discussions about who has good ones for how much. There’s little talk of varieties or flavours, because the only common variations on this traditional item are what to do with the marzipan, whether to add extra almonds, and how to eat them. I have, however, seen recent mention (in Swedish) of chocolate semlor and ones filled with raspberry jam. Sacrilege! Crucifixion?

freshly baked

The buns (semla and bulle just refer to types of bun in Swedish) are made from an enriched yeast dough.

Semlor filled and ready to eat

Purists will actually take a little bread from the centre of the bun, crumble it, and mix it with the marzipan before filling the bun. Some bakers add flaked or crushed almonds to the cream, others garnish the top of the bun. The basic model requires that the buns be dusted with icing sugar. Cardamom is usually added to the bread, but can (unconventionally) be added to the marzipan. Don’t even think of omitting the cardamom from the recipe!

cream filled

The decision about how many buns a recipe will make is rather individual. I’ve seen a recipe where 375gm of flour makes 20 buns, but another where 500g of flour only makes 12! Yum. The recipe printed here strikes a balance between indigestion and petit-fours.

The dough for the buns sometimes includes the following, but these ingredients aren’t essential and some can be hard to find here: ground almond and bitter almond, ammonium carbonate (E503a: a raising agent rarely used in Australia), and Swedish quark (‘Kesella’, 10% fat). It’s also useful to know that the marzipan we can get here has a rather low almond content (about 30%), whereas Scandinavian ‘almond paste’ is usually 50% almonds (and appropriate for this recipe).

Finally, a little comment on how to eat a semla/fastlagsbulle. If you enjoy snorting cream, then feel free to stick your nose into the cream as it squidges out. The more conventional reader might be interested to know that semlor of the type described are only about 100-150 years old, and the main precursor to these is an enriched bun served in a pool of warm milk. This is how some people continue to eat the newer variant. Whatever you do, remember that one is never enough and three is generally a tad piggy.

burp - all gone

– DM

This is a revised version of an article which was first published in The Age (Epicure), Melbourne, on 08 Apr 2003.

 

Semlor
(Swedish Lenten Buns)

 
  Source: Duncan Markham
Yield: 8
 
  Buns  
200 g plain flour
35 g sugar
0.5 tsp ground cardamom
0.5 tsp salt
ca 14 g dried yeast (instant)
35 g butter
ca 100 ml milk
1 egg – lightly beaten
  Filling  
4 tsp milk
150 g marzipan – grated
200 ml whipping cream
1.5 tsp icing sugar (pure)
  1. Mix the flour, sugar, cardamom and salt in a bowl. Make a well in the centre and add the yeast.
  2. Melt the butter in a saucepan. Add the milk. Cool the liquid to lukewarm. Add 2/3 of the beaten egg.
  3. Pour the liquid into the bowl. Slowly mix the dry and wet ingredients, then knead this dough until soft, smooth and elastic. Add a little extra milk if necessary. Cover with a cloth and leave in a warm place until doubled in size (60-90 mins).
  4. Knead the dough lightly, then divide it into eight equal pieces. Form each piece into a round bun. Place the buns on a greased/non-stick baking tray, ca 5 cm apart. Cover and leave in a warm place to prove until doubled in size (60-90 mins).
  5. Preheat the oven to 230°C (lower for convection oven). Lightly brush the tops of the buns with the leftover egg.
  6. Bake for 7-10 mins, until deep golden brown. Take care not to burn them (it can happen quickly). Remove and allow to cool completely on a wire rack.
  7. With a very sharp knife, horizontally slice off the top quarter of each bun and put to one side. Using a fork, scrape out about two teaspoons of bread from the middle of each bun and place this in a small bowl.
  8. Mash this bread with the milk for the filling. Add the marzipan and mix to a fairly smooth paste. Place a liberal tablespoon of filling in the middle of each bun.
  9. Now whip the cream until it holds its shape well but isn’t completely stiff. Pipe or dollop the cream over the filling.
  10. Lightly place the top of each bun on top of the cream and push down gently, just enough to squidge the cream to the edge of the bun. Dust the lid with icing sugar.
  11. Best eaten with a cup of coffee or in a bowl of warm milk. Store in the refrigerator for up to 48 hours.