My candy review that didn't make it in on time:
I had never tried to eat a Sky Bar when I volunteered as review tribute: I thought it would be funny to eat a shitty candy. Sky Bars occupy this particular place in my candy imaginary: filed next to the candy bar you're looking for at the convenience store. The candy bar you never get around to eating. The candy bar with a name, Sky Bar, that doesn't indicate anything about what may actually be inside, gives no indication of its flavor(s). Who looks into the sky and thinks about eating chocolate? Some fucking guy at some point, who cares. Further supporting my "Sky Bar Sucks!" hypothesis is its manufacture by the NECCO company, which I suspect must be government subsidized or a drug front or just doing it out of spite or something because they only make horrible candy that no one eats.
Who eats a Sky Bar? I would pick one up after work Thursday and answer that question myself. I wanted to situate that piece of pure hypothesis into my life, through my mouth. "I'm gonna write about the Sky bar. Who eats a Sky Bar?" I sneered to Marie Lodi, who let me know that not only did she get one with every birthday card and in every Christmas stocking, but it's her Dad's favorite. And he's a fucking chef. Chefs eat Sky Bars; they give Sky Bars to their daughters, who become my friends, or at least people who were my friend before I insouciantly ganked the opportunity to review their favorite candy that I had never even eaten. I re-told this story to Lucy Betz this morning, with incredulity, with the last scoff left inside of me, asking her: "Have you ever had one?"
"Yeah!" she said. Two people I respect and admire Sky Bar fans?
Lucy told me that Sky Bar is "like a buffet table, but small." and that I would "have to mention that it's like a regular candy bar but it has like 10 candy bars in it." When I pressed, Lucy said that it had merely four flavors, but would not tell me which four. She said, Sky Bar is peanut butter, fudge, hot sauce, milk, lavender, and honey mustard. She said it was "a very interesting sensory experience."
What the fuck is wrong with me? Pride goeth before a snack. I was now officially intrigued. Now I wanted to eat a Sky Bar. I went to work, I went home, I went to the supermarket, the proximity bodega (closest by/ok variety), the superlative bodega (further away/best selection), and I think one other bodega, and could not find a single Sky Bar. My experience standing as such, I cannot turn in my candy review. At the beginning of this journey Sky Bar was everywhere and I thought I would hate it; now I think I may love it, and it is nowhere. Do I love Sky Bar? Do I hate Sky Bar? I love it for what it could be, I love the memory of the Sky Bar I have yet to have; I hate it for the same. Thank you.
