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Lidl's Choco Softies Review
Having read your (very old, I know) review of the Lidl Choco Softie/ Super Dickmann and the attached feedback with interest, I'm astonished to find that non of my fellow country people have yet mentioned the ecological niche is DOES actually live in (after Carola already made clear which one it's definitely not in, namely that of the Tunnock's Tea Cake).
Now, the niche it IS in is - party food, thus probably partly reflecting the idea of sea side snack that someone opined. One of the main justifications of the Dickmann's existence is a kiddie party game that has kept German birthday boys and girls happy for generations named Negerkusswettessen (Dickmann Eating Competition). Each child is issued with a standard sized Super Dickmann/ Choco Softie and has to eat it of the plate without using their hands. The first one to finish wins. It's an extremely messy pastime, and great fun too. :-D
The other main ecological niche for the Dickmann is to provide sustenance for schoolchildren in the eight to 15 age bracket, here in the shape of the Negerkuss- or Matschbrötchen (Dickmann or Mud Roll). Here, a Dickmann is inserted between two halves of a roll and, squeezed flat and immediately eaten. Excellent schoolbus breakfast, particularly if your local bus stop happens to be outside a bakery - and yes, all over Germany bakeries readily cater for this demand, buying Dickmanns in if they don't make their own anyway. I recommend justifying your next Lidl run with necessary research into that concoction, I guarantee the younger members of staff will be nothing short of delighted. Also, I have to admit that even at the ripe old age of 32 I will occasionally get a packet of them and deftly insert them into rolls for consumption - I'm in Ireland now and bakeries here don't do them.
BTW - don't let anyone tell you the word Negerkuss has gone out of use. Of course it's extremely politically incorrect, but so far that hasn't stopped anyone from referring to that piece of confectionary by this name. Google "negerkuss" and see for yourself.
I have no idea if you use this method already, perhaps someone (no doubt, in fact) has thought of this, and passed on it's potential usefulness. However, in case they haven't, I will share this with you. And then it is up to you if you wish to pass it on, and indeed, use it.
For many years I had trouble with extracting the tea bag from the mug, with a) as little spillage as possible and b) not burning myself. One of the obvious and well known methods is to press the teabag against the side of the mug with the spoon, which works well, but depending on how full your mug is will gauge the amount of water you manage to strain from the teabag. Not only this, but it can often cause spillage, if your not very careful. The alternative would be to use your fingers, often with the tea bag on the spoon, and then pressing occasionally, in between blowing your fingers cold, until you can stand no more and throw the tea bag in the bin. And of course there is always the option of simply accepting a significant loss of tea and taking the bag straight from the mug, into the bin.
Now here's what I do. Before I continue it's important to note that for this to work in it's most efficient manner, you will need to have a plastic milk carton, one of the normal ones, nothing special, just your average plastic milk carton. So, after I have dropped the tea bag in my mug (I have a pint mug by the way, it saves me getting up for a refill so often, although I often end up with mildly warm tea towards the end, if I end up drinking it too slowly), filled the mug up with boiling water, added the milk, and gave it a stir (I'm left handed, so find myself stirring my tea anti-clockwise. But hey, no ones perfect), I then extract the bag using the spoon, and, now this is the important bit, I use the milk cartons lid to press down on the bag (whilst still on the spoon, obviously) to strain it of all it's glorious concentrated tea, essentially creating a teabag sandwich, between the lid and the spoon. I usually turn the 'sandwich' sideward, so the tea can strain directly into the mug. And then disposing of the bag couldn't be easier: Once all the tea has been squeezed from the bag, simply manoeuvre the lid and spoon (with teabag safely held between) over the bin, and release the bag.
Of course, if you have a compost, then replace 'bin' with such.
I hope this knowledge serves some purpose; I could think of no better source to share it with.
|Nicey replies: Righty ho.|
Tunnocks Tea Cake Review
|Fab website- I just love it!|
I have had a long relationship with the incomparable Tunnock's teacakes. As children my sister and I would take one out of its foil & dramatically smash it against our foreheads- that aim was for all of the chocolate on the top to smash into little pieces, with the minimum of mallow on forehead.
Needless to say tricky & lots of fun, but did (un)remarkably often result in sticky forehead.
So in my university years when secretary of Edinburgh University Ballroom Dancing society I KNEW the way to get people to sing up to our society was to entice them with a Tunnock's tea cake. So I wrote a nice begging letter to the factory (down the road in Uddingston) asking them for sponsorship money. They of course did not give us money- but wonder of wonders- they donated 50 catering size boxes of Tunnock's Teacakes. wow! were we pleased or what?! So the society's IT guy and I trundled off to the factory in his teeny 2CV to pick up our treasuerd 50 boxes. I never did get sick of them & still buy them for a treat.
By the way, since leaving home to go to university (in the cause of staying slim) I have never walked down the biscuit aisle of any supermarket- ever! So I still love the toffypops, uniteds and trio's of my childhood. However my fiance does not understand this! So for the sake of our future marriage & with the tutoring of ncotaasd I am going to re-ignite my interest in biscuits. Probably to the detriment of my waistline, though. Though I do work for Cadburys, so I dont have much hope really!
all the best,
|Nicey replies: Yes Tunnocks are utterly brilliant really, and they were very nice and helpful when we were writing the book. Be careful in that biscuit aisle, you have a lot of pent up biscuit tension there and it might get a bit graphic if you are suddenly re-exposed to them, especially in a public place.|
Tunnocks Tea Cake Review
With apologies if this has been covered before, but I feel moved to praise the magnificence of the Tunnock’s Tea Cake. These are the only biscuits served up at my place of work, and by golly they are good. What a wonderful nation the Scots are, that they are capable of producing such delights.
On another subject, have you done a poll on additions to a nice cup of tea in moments of distress? Two sugars I think can work wonderfully. In extreme distress, I have even been moved to include a tot of whisky. Do other tea drinkers however think that such practices are an abomination?
|Nicey replies: Extreme distress really means that ones margins of tolerance for tea broaden considerably. As you mention you'll often get given tea with sugar, which normally I would choke on, but can be tolerated in situations such hospitals etc. As for adding booze I would prefer to have a chaser thanks, maybe with an ice cube, and a little dish of nuts or perhaps some twiglets.|
I thought I should alert your viewers to a vicious piece of anti-biscuit propaganda it has recently been my misfortune to read. The "book" (if one can dignify it with such a term) is called "No More Biscuits!" by Paeony Lewis. It details the travails of Florence and her stuffed toy monkey Arnold as, realising they have eaten the last biscuits in the tin (a dilemma I'm sure we can all relate to), they set about attempting to procure some more. Armed only with their cunning and a monomania probably induced by rapidly plummeting blood sugar levels, our intrepid duo valiantly struggle to persuade Florence's mum to open a new packet of biscuits. Now, the delightfully accurate illustrations of various biscuits on the endpapers suggests the involvement of someone who really knows their stuff biscuit-wise, while the fact that this is a book for younger readers led me to believe this story would have a happy ending. But no. Imagine my horror and disgust upon reaching the denouement of this sorry tale, wherein our heroine and her primate pal cease their noble quest, deciding that biscuits are "boring", and instead accept the frozen bananas proffered by the frankly deluded mother. How on earth can we be expected to nuture the next generation of biscuit aficionados if such poison is allowed to circulate freely in the children's sections of our bookshops? I shall be writing to my MP about this matter, and would strongly urge others to do likewise.
|Nicey replies: No it doesn't sound like a very plausible subject for book. The younger members of staff enjoy something with a bit of mild peril in it such as the Enormous Crocodile by Roald Dahl, or the collected works of Fireman Sam (although they are completely un-impressed by my dazzling range of Welsh characterisations ).|