When I was younger my mother gave me, as a ‘treat’, something that looked like chocolate. A swift bite into said item yielded unto me one of the most anticlimactic experiences I have ever had. It was several minutes before I spoke to my mother again.
The makers of carob bars market the things on the basis of their similarity to chocolate. Do they think that we are idiots? They may as well market piss on the basis of its similarity to apple Tango. Not only this, but I suspect that these carob hustlers are shooting themselves in the foot: what might have been an unpleasant yet tolerable gustatory experience is rendered utterly horrific through sheer disappointment. It is like waiting for months for your birthday to come round so you can get a Tamagotchi, only to be met with one of those crappy knock-off copycat versions. Which also happened to me when I was younger. Or it’s like being asked out ‘for a date’, only to arrive at the restaurant to be met with a hideously ugly person sat with a bowl of dates at the table. Which is a very good analogy actually, as carob is very similar to date.
I could go on. Confronting a carob chocolate bar is like finding raisins in your biscuit when you were expected choc chips. Or sitting down to a delicious bowl of pasta, only to find out that it is wholemeal! But that, my friends, is a topic for another article.
Carob Bars: 0/10