For as long as I can remember, I've been a constant grocery store
tag-along. I'd like to think that once in a while I actually contribute
something worthwhile to these trips, but mostly it's just an opportunity
for me to get really hungry and drop a few subtle hints about what
might fit extra nicely in that cart. By the end of the trip, I'm not the
only one with a major case of the munchies. Within arm's reach of just
about every check-out stand is a bountiful display of candy bars, often
at the price of three for a dollar, just perfect for my parents and me.
Mom and Dad will often opt for a different type of candy bar ever time,
but I always know exactly what I want: a Hershey almond bar.
Hershey isn't the most glamorous chocolate out there. Its taste is sweet
and creamy but not overpowering, not really the type of candy you must
eat with your eyes closed, relishing every bite with exaggerated
appreciation. It's exquisite in its simplicity, however. There's
something so homey and downright American about the skinny little bar
with its name pressed into it. Milton Hershey, who shared a birthday
with my brother (and, interestingly enough, Charlie and the Chocolate Factory author Roald Dahl), gave us all a flavor to savor.
When I think of Hershey, I think of the gorgeous amusement park I've
visited several times, watching the chocolate-making process, sniffing
the scented air and feeling like I have a hunch of what it might be like
in Willy Wonka's chocolate factory. I think of M*A*S*H and the
episodes in which that little bar of chocolate made a harrowing day just
a little bit brighter in the midst of wartime. Mostly, though, I just
think of that delicious, comforting taste, with crunchy almonds to break
up the monotony of a vast expanse of flat chocolate. I eat around the
edges, leaving as many of the almonds as I can for the last few yummy
bites. Unlike a hefty Cadbury fruit and nut bar,
the basic Hershey almond bar is scrawny enough that I always gobble it
up in one sitting. It helps that it isn't partitioned into handy squares
- though the King Size bar is.
I see that this particular
listing is for a box of 36, and I suppose I should admit that I don't
think we've ever actually had a box of 36 Hershey almond bars in the
house. That, I suspect, is a good thing, because it wouldn't last long
with me around, and if the aim was fundraising, I'd probably just buy
the lot myself. Each bar contains 210 calories and 14 grams of fat, but
who's keeping track? Not me! After all, Remus Lupin always advised
chocolate in the face of adversity. That is one prescription I will take
gladly, and if I slip in a preventative dose here and there, it ought
to keep the ol' Dementors at bay for a long time to come.
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