Halloween is fast approaching, and I’ve made a new discovery at the candy shop: Shrimps and Bananas. They are adoreable and tasty. I mean, look at the packaging! Funny happy zoo friends having a snack together. Monty Monkey says, “I want bananas!” Ronni Rhino begins to dance around singing, “Shrimps for me! I love shrimps!” Then Gina, the Giraffe who eats anything, decides “Let’s ALL have shrimps and bananas!” Of course, it’s much cuter when you read it with a British accent.
At first, I thought they were a strange savoury treat, but the kid-friendly package design and the ingredient list (sugar, sugar, and sugar) indicated sweetness. When I felt the packet, I could tell the candies were softish, and I began to suspect they might be related to one of my most favouritest nostalgic treats: the Circus Peanut.
Fresh Circus Peanuts are wonderful sugarbombs. Giant orange peanut shaped cousins to the marshmallow. They have a firm and foamy texture, with a post-peanut hyperactivity warning on the label. Just kidding. But yes, they are kid candy. And no, they do not contain peanuts. On my good-ol’-days candy list, they are second only to the Orange Slice (close relative to the gumdrop, and a Christmas grab bag staple).
The bananas tasted very faintly of banana, and the shrimp tasted absolutely nothing like shrimp . . . more like strawberry maybe? Ginger Man declined to eat them because they were shrimp shaped, but his tastes tend to favour the sour anyway. So, my candy-loving fellows, hie thee to yon sweet shoppe and return forthwith avec Shrimps and Bananas that ye sweet toothe might be appeased.
Popeye “Tasty Candy Sticks
When I decided to purchase the box of Crick-ettes, it was all I could do to hold them in my hand. At one point I forgot what I was carrying, and when I looked down and saw their dead buggy faces staring back at me from behind the cellophane, I nearly threw them down and ran screaming out the door. But, I didn’t want to make a scene in the candy shop, so I composed myself. “Stay strong . . . they’re just for pictures. You don’t have to eat them.” Or so I told myself at the moment.
Really, what kind of foodie would I be if I didn’t at least have a wee nibble? Just to educate my taste buds . . . clearly I had lost my mind. Ginger Man pretty much agreed, but I got him to try a hind leg with me. Perhaps if I had just popped one in whole and crunched it up like a brave girl, the experience might have been more informative, but no, it wasn’t worth it to me. I had a cricket in my hand and a steak in my freezer; the choice was clear. Still, a taste test was in order.
I was quite happy to move on to the badass banana scorpion sucker. There was a whole lotta sugar between me and that critter, so I was game for a lick or two. Examining the little scorpion, delicately preserved in the center of a golden confectionary window made me feel like a paleontologist. At the same time, whatever morbid human curiosity the goodie satisfied, I couldn’t help thinking how many of those little animals had gotten their stingers ripped off and died in a suffocating yellow goo so that geeks like me could throw down some money for a laugh. Curiosity satisfied, that’s the last one I’ll ever buy.
The duck and hoisin chips weren’t half bad. The taste reminded me of brown gravy. The 
I handed over all the jelly belly sours—Ginger Man’s reward for trying the cricket, and because I love him. He wants me to eat the orange ones, but I like the red ones, and I’m cute, so I get my way. He got the pop rocks, but we split the Kinder egg (he gets the chocolatey outside; I get the toy inside). This time it was a real cutie: a fuzzy green ape! So much better than a dumb robot with weird chicken arms.
The dreamy London Mints are for after dinner for the next couple days, and the “candy sticks” are for whenever I feel like putting my feet up and having a fake smoke, cuz we all know those are candy cigarettes. In order not to start smoking rebelliously the last time I was home for a visit, me and my sisters stopped at every convenience store in the county looking for candy cigs. I went through about a pack of 
On an early April foodie safari along Granville Street, I came upon a little chocolate shop, just in time to add a few goodies to my 
Dark Advocaat Brandy
Milk Mojito
Then one day, Easter came around and Peeps were once again plentiful. The weather was becoming fine and clear where I lived at the time, and I was buying groceries for a lovely weekend for camping. Of course, where there’s a campfire, there must be marshmallows, and where there are marshmallows, chocolate and graham crackers cannot be far away. I thought to myself, “Self, what do you reckon would happen if we stuck one of them there Peeps on a stick and roasted him over the fire?” *DING-DING-DING*
Carefully, I positioned my peep for maximal even heat, rotating it slowly and watching for the slightest change in color or shape. The chick began to expand. It rapidly became lopsided, threatening to droop off my fork, but years of marshmallow toasting had provided enough skill to regain control just as the yellow sugar coating began to brown. Oh here we go . . . carmelize, you beautiful marshmallow. A bit of color here, a bit of color there, and away you go. Once off the heat, the sugar coating began to harden slightly . . . like the top of a creme brulee.
Mix sugar, butter, and vanilla. Add cream slowly (1 Tbs at a time) until a dough forms.
Knead on board covered with powdered sugar at least 5 minutes. It should be nice and smooth. Divide in half. Roll out between two sheets of plastic wrap.
Remove top sheet of plastic. Spread dough with Peanut Butter. Roll up jelly-roll style.
Cover with plastic wrap. Chill until firm.
Curious Domestic 