Chase's Cherry Mash
Chases' Cherry Mash was packaged in a sachet, which reminded me of soap or beauty product packaging. I enjoyed the feel of the packet in my hand, it was neatly palm sized. I wanted to string out the anticipation for as long as possible, as I tried to invisage what a cherry mash would look like.
Like a saggy, squashed potato, made of cherry marzipan stuff, and coated with chocolate. The cherry mash had a rich taste that made one small bite feel as if it had swelled to fill my entire mouth. I could imagine Chase's cherry mash packets mashed at the bottom of handbags, fat women eating them at bus stops, kids secreting them in their backpacks before being sent to camp, that mysterious American holiday exile. Their formless shape was a delight to chomp into, it felt as if I could easily just press it all onto my mouth, as if I held a blob of shaving cream in my palm.
The taste of cherry flavouring reminds me of medicine, the smell of lip gloss, cleaning products, but not cherries.
Chase's Cherry Mash's packet tells me in a splatter of yellow that it has been “An American Favourite Since 1918”. Its design has retained the medicinal style of old confectionary packets. A host of red scarves radiate out from the logo, to one side of which is a curious cartoon. The Chase's Candy Cop looks to be about six years old, and have a body made out of a Cherry Mash itself. I am not sure what exactly a Candy cop would spend his time doing, but this one seems to be both directing traffic (or maybe he's just saying “come hither” to gorge on Cherry Mashes?) and swinging a truncheon that looks like a sausage on a string.
On the back of the packet are two recipes, for Cherry Mash Pudding and Cherry Mash Sundae. It perplexed and delighted me that somewhere someone right now could be melting two cherry mash bars (bar? blob would be more appropriate), pouring corn starch over them, chilling the resulting mess and serving it with cream.