Pictured above: pandora’s box. Consider it opened.
When I was fourteen I had the chance to spend a summer in and around London. Twenty-some students from the Robert Mays School flew over in the spring and we (los Americanos) paid them a visit that summer.
It was a blast. Can you imagine? Forty fourteen and fifteen-year-olds, feeling cooler and older than they should? Ri-diculous. Our poor chaperones.
Most importantly, that summer was when I met my dear friend, the Cadbury Crunchie bar. It was a warm afternoon in Reading when I opened my lunch to find an unknown candy bar. I remember feeling indifferent to the new piece of sugar, but even at fourteen, I wasn’t one to pass up dessert. It was chocolate, bite size, and I couldn’t find the word “coconut” anywhere on the label, so I bit in. Oh sweet lord the world stopped on a dime with that first bite. Chocolate and honeycomb. Repeat. Chocolate and honeycomb. Crunch. Sweet. Crunch. Sweet. Heaven.
I returned home with a pair of overpriced baggy jeans (all the rage that summer—never worn stateside, thank goodness), 15 rolls of undeveloped film, and 11 extra pounds resting around my midsection.
Since I put a few thousand miles and an ocean between myself and my beloved crunchie bars I've managed to escape my fate as the first female great American sumo wrestler, but when I found this post on Cupcakes & Cashmere I knew I was doomed. What's even more ominous? Last night, around 11pm, I discovered that honeycomb is super simple to make--easier than cookies! I'm completely done for!
Recipe via About.com: Chemistry
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