The Wunderbar.

First off, I apologize that I don't have a better picture to share of this, but, being at the hospital and on dial-up, it's like using a hand-crank run computer..so, deal with it. I should just have a picture of one of my own, I have eaten enough of these that you would think that I could just take a picture of one, but they don't last long enough in our house. And the wrappers seem to just disappear...

Years ago my brother told me a story. About a friend of his whose name (I believe) was Adam. It may have been Aaron, but none of that matters to this story, so for the sake of this story, his name is Adam.
Adam and my brother were pretty good friends about 10 years ago in Chicago where my brother lives now with his wife and their son and dog. And, way in the distant confines of my (very poor) recollective memory lay a story about Adam and his sojourns across the border to Canada. Seemed Adam would take off for a journey every few months or so to The Great White North to get, what he, at the time, called, "Splooey Bars". (Yay for commas, by the way)
What, prey tell, is a "Splooey Bar"? Put simply, it was a candy bar that Adam had to go to Canada to get and, upon eating, could very well make the eater spontaneously...splooge.
He would hoard these candy bars and never share them with anyone. It seems that his sploogeing was meant just for himself and no one else. Self-splooing.

And that was the story.

Cut to 7 years later or so. I'm in Vancouver, Canada, shooting the first of the A&W commercials. And I'm staying and some kinda dumpy hotel by the library. (I since get to stay at the Metropolitan, which is much nicer.) It's no Sutton Place, but, since I've never been there I don't know what I am missing and the staff at the Metropolitan are very nice to me and Beth.)
Now, this is Canada, man. Cuban cigars are sold at just about every convenience store and, dammit, I'm gonna have one.
So, I go down to the newsstand on the corner of the hotel and I'm looking for something else to enjoy with my cigar and, lo and behold, something catches my eye.
There, in it's yellowy; Butterfinger-esque wrapper with the purple font was a Cadbury "Wunderbar". Something in my mind sort of clicked. Or snapped.
THIS was the splooey bar. I don't know how I remembered that. Or why. But, dammit, this was it.
Like Charlie in the original Chocolate Factory movie, I grabbed one from the display and added it to my purchase of cigar, diet coke and gum.
Up in my room, I pulled this confection from the bag. I had a choice. Save it for later and light up a nice Pancho Villa..? Nah. I had to try it. I mean, this was the spontaneous sploogebar.
How to describe it? Well, I could just go on about what it tastes like. The standard chocolate coating, beyond which lies the perfect blend of peanut butter and toffee..Let me put it this way: If Butterfinger and Three Musketeers had a baby, it would be a Wunderbar. But it's really so much better than that.
I told this story to Beth when I got back from Canada and she rolled her eyes, as she is want to do with practically everything I say. And then I gave her the bar.
Her eyes widened. Her jaw dropped. It was almost orgasmic.
And everyone else had the same reaction. Or sort of. Sometimes it wasn't so sensual, generally if the person wasn't a huge peanut butter fan, but, to a person, each and everyone would stop what they were saying, doing, talking about and just stare at this bar of chocolate as if to say, "Where the hell have you been????"
Where, indeed? How is it possible the Wunderbar has not crept across the border? Is there some deal Cadbury has with the makers of other bars? "You don't sell X bar in Canada and we won't take over the entire peanut butter/chocolate market with the Wunderbar?" It has to be. Doesn't it?
Oh, right. You've probably never had a Wunderbar.
Well, if you get one you might do just what Beth and I did after we finished the 7 I brought back from the Canucks: You might order a box of your own from some distributor.
And you might gain 8 pounds in one month eating all 30.
And you might cry when you put it in the fridge only to discover that, as great as a Wunderbar is (and it is is is great) it is that awful when it is cold. This. Is. Not. A. Snickers Bar.
The Wunderbar.
Proof that god exists in the (chocolate) details.