Occasionally, I like to have a toot for small business, whether it be craft related or not. My long term pipe dream is to be a small business owner myself, but my coffeehouse/performance studio/craft centre/unicorn breeding model doesn’t seem to be the most viable business strategy in this current economic climate of recession, so I may just have to be content to dream a while longer.
I’ve always been rather a fan of the worst kind of sweets; the ones with blindingly bright packaging and more e-numbers than a bottle of Fruit Shoot. Candy for second graders, really. Things that make your cheeks turn inside out with their sheer sourness and turn your tongue every unnatural color of the rainbow. I have many happy memories of lounging poolside with a friend on a scorching summer day, burning lobster red and gleefully chewing sour strawberry taffy that would slip between our wet, chlorinated fingers like sticky serpents. It’s as much a memory thing as a taste experience, so I can be forgiven for occasionally indulging in the most childish of gastronomic experiences.
The Rock Star and I spend last Saturday morning with some of my long lost Western cousins who I’ve not seen since I was 12. After a joyous reunion in Covent Garden, said cousins hurried off to catch a train to Paris and seeing as how we don’t get into the city as often as we like, we decided just to have a mooch around. Of course, a mooch with the Prawn is slightly more of a slog than mooches used to be, so we kept to back streets around the Covent Garden/ Leicester Square area and this is where we ran into two rather fabulous sweet emporiums.
Hope and Greenwood sits directly opposite the Royal Drury Lane Theatre and although the street is quieter during the day, the shop is almost assured “Which way was Leicester Square again?” traffic. It’s lovely 1930’s “jolly good fun” seaside atmosphere is tremendously welcoming and when walking in, it’s hard to know which way to look for all the brightly colored confectionary and beautiful packaging. The piece de resistance, however, is the old fashioned wall of sweet jars brimming full of childhood remembrances. At least, this is what The Rock Star told me, because all of the sweets were rather unfamiliar to my American palette. The Rock Star gleefully asked for a quarter of aniseed balls; one of his favourites. (I can always count on him to finish black, green and yellow candies that I leave behind. Aniseed makes me feel vaguely nauseous due to an encounter with Pernod in college.) I chose a quarter of candy necklaces; another throwback from childhood that I’ve never outgrown a taste for.
After a brief trip into Leicester Square, (“Why did we come here again?”) we headed back down Garrick Street, which we trusted would lead us eventually to our parking garage and came across Cyber Candy.
Being an ex-pat, some of my most favorite sweets are obviously unavailable to me, so when we came across a store that seemed to be stocked to the brim with all of my favourites, it took all of my will not to begin squealing with delight. Tootsie Roll pops. Twizzlers, Some of the sourest candies known to man. They were all there. And all pretty freaking expensive, but to my mind, worth it for the nostalgia. (If I lived in the US, I’d probably not be so excited by a packet of Sweet Tarts, but when you can’t get a hold of things, they suddenly become VERY APPEALING.) The Rock Star was beside himself at the prospect of Twizzlers, which we always bring home from our US sojourns in enormous quantities, only to see them disappear much more rapidly than we hoped. (The same thing happened this time. They didn’t last a week.) I personally am still working on my roll of Sweet Tart Shockers which are delightfully puckery.
I’d encourage those of you that are possessed of a sweet tooth to check out both of their sites on the web from which you can order all manner of satisfying treats!