Ernest Hemingway's shortest tragedy: For sale: baby, shoes (never worn)
The better version (mine): Grew up in Southern Connecticut, hated the beach.
A true story, and a rather pitiful one, too. Growing up, we belonged to two beach and tennis clubs and I hated both equally. The club closest to our house was the most tolerable and thus, the one we went to most frequently. I liked it because it had a killer snack bar and plenty of trees and grass to sit under and read. Less sand, more J.K. Rowling for me. And beach snacks. What is it about salt air that makes people bust out their best stash of mindless foods to eat? Kettle Corn, charred hot dogs, puffy Jax, and Stewart's Orange and Cream Soda were exchanged and consumed rapidly.
By far, the most superior of these snacks was Shark Bites. Easy to carry and overtly beach-themed, it was voted the best way for children to both absorb and repel the power of the shark. Everyone likes Shark Bites. They're clearly the best of the fruit snack varieties, with their strange opaque colors and the widely disputed mystery flavor of the great white shark. Sometimes it was orange. Sometimes it was cherry. Either way, it was the most coveted of the pack and if you had two, giving one to a buddy signified a lifelong bond. At least until someone dropped theirs half-eaten into the sand and cried about it. Babies.
The doughy, glutenous chew and generic fruit-flavored profile in no way deters from eating these. With their mild tang and gentle sweetness, it's easy to go through a pack of these- or three! They truly are the poor man's Sharkies, and a worthy competitor at that.
Labels: 7, candy, nostalgia week, snack