Dear Harriet, who is not as crazy as this spread.
Having made a few trips to Paris in the last couple of years, I would always have a look in the spread aisle at the supermarkets, tutting at the lack of any proper peanut butter, or the occasional appearance of Sun Pat. However, Speculoos always sparked my interest, given that it is a spread made of biscuits.
These ‘Lotus’ biscuits as I believe they’re called are served with coffee pretty much everywhere in France (they should do it more in the UK) and are pretty delicious. So how could a spread not work?
Well, maybe because normal people don’t mash up biscuits and eat them in a sandwich. On this piece of bread I’ve organised 3 zones – Speculoos alone, with PB, and with butter. Biting in to them is… overwhelming. It’s SO sweet, I almost feel like I’m being tortured. I have a very large glass of water that I have to turn to after every bite. This definitely could be a torture device – without the water it would be an absolute nightmare. Oh, god, it’s too much. The saltiness of the piece with the PB on is helping a bit (I used this one to contrast) but I really can’t go on. However, the review isn’t done. I have to carry on. No more….. okay, one more bite.
Right, that’s the last one. It’s too much. It’s not even the sugar, there’s some other sort of overwhelmingly artificial beast in there begging to be let out. I feel like this spread wants to lure me in and then take all my money, clothes and belongings before strangling me to death by force-feeding me more and more of this spread. Even sitting on the plate I feel like it’s looking at me, aware of what I’m typing. If I try to get up, my door will slam in my face, pushing me back to the desk, and the plate will slide of it’s own accord beneath my nose. My face will bow to it, my arms unwillingly clutching the toast and forcing it down my throat, muffling my screams.
I wake up suddenly, handcuffed to the bed. My eyes sealed shut with Speculoos, all I hear is a voice. It’s days later, and my mouth is burning with the sickly, dark sweetness of this spread.
“I’ve thrown out all the peanut butter by the way. You’re only eating me from now on. And by the way, I’ve been reading your texts. Who the hell is ‘Mum’?”
“Please” I scream, “You have to let me go. I need something savoury! Or at least some water!”
“Shutup. I’m going to cut a hole in you and live inside your stomach so we never have to be apart!”
“Oh, god, no more, please!!” I cry as somehow more of this spread is piped in to my mouth, the sugar attacking my whole being.
“OPEN YOUR EYES! I DON’T WANT YOU IMAGINING OTHER GIRLS!!!!”
I snap them open and…. I’m alone. No handcuffs, no Speculoos jar, nothing. I tentatively walk around the flat, calling out. No answer. I look in the cupboard…. there’s no peanut butter.
Texture – Silky, Crumby, Attached
Saltysweet scale – 10
Exempt from Henry rating. (You’ll like it for one bite).
World Of Peanut Butter & Beer 