The last time my sister visited from Sweden we went round to my brother’s house, as we always do whenever there’s a family gathering because he has the biggest house. We all brought food and had a general chit-chat. It was the same as it ever was.
It was, that is, apart from Sarah had a mild fascination with eating food from the 1980’s and kept bring it up in conversation. This continued for a while and when the desserts were brought out this included a very sad-looking Viennetta.
“What’s wrong with that?” I asked.
“Oh nothing really,” said Sarah, “it’s been in mum’s freezer for a while but other than that it’s fine.”
“Oh. Could I have a bit more information about that? Only the last time we emptied mum’s kitchen cupboards we found food and spices from Safeway which was very disconcerting given that it hasn’t existed since 2005.”
Sarah goes back into the kitchen to check the box which is still lying on the kitchen counter.
“It says…. 2019. But it’s sugar, right? Nothing is going to happen to sugar. You won’t get poisoned or anything.”
Yes, my sister, the doctor, ladies and gentlemen. I did have a small slice out of curiosity and it did taste a bit funky however it was in a way that I couldn’t quite put my finger on. The flavour was there, the ice cream, the wafer-thin chocolate bits, all were present. Still this lingering feeling of uncertainty kept me, and everyone else insane enough to have a bit, from fully enjoying it.
It also had some freezer burn and had to stand for a while before it all fell off.
Mmmmmmm!
8 comments on “Sad Viennetta”
This is tragically sad, and yet somehow heroic. A Vienetta that survived from before the pandemic. It knew only the good times, safely cocooned in its frosty home, until it was finally taken out, many years later, emerging into a changed world. What a life that Vienetta lived.
It’s almost like a bear, waiting out the winter through hibernation so that it can come out and be a badass again.
Exactly. A bear that emerges from hibernation and immediately begins to melt.
A delicious, creamy bear with layers of thin crackling chocolate.
That’s my kind of bear.
Horrific in its execution (melty bear). Delicious in its consumption (tasty bear).
It could work.
I’d buy it, probably. Or I’d shoplift it. I reckon I could get a couple of those up my jumper.
Waaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay! (what?)
They’d melt before you’d even made it to Lord Meltingham’s royal crop or whatever the nearest tube station is.
My nearest tube station is about fifty miles away. I live in France.
My nearest station on the Paris Métro, on the other hand, is La Récolte Royale de Seigneur Fondre-Jambon.
That’s a lot of words and a lot of French. If they’re not selling bacon baguettes and/or ham sandwiches there then they’re missing out a treat.