Chocolate Kimberleys

There's a biscuit out there, a biscuit that many are yet to taste and experience. It's the kind of biscuit that completely alters your biscuit eating habits. It's the kind of biscuit you'd like to think you could imagine, but could never exactly conjure up in your head. It's the the kind of biscuit you pine after once you've let it pass down your throat, hoping that today might be the day you get sick, so, at the very least, you might grab a little taste of this wonderful biscuit once more, as your chunder flows from your mouth (hopefully into a sink or toilet, or somewhere that won't be too troublesome to clean as long as you can hold your breath for a sufficient amount of time). This biscuit is the Jacobs Elite Chocolate Kimberley.

Forgive the gruesome imagery I used, which, in retrospect, was a little extreme, but I used it only to try put forth my great love for these biscuits. And I suppose I should address a notable point to begin with: this biscuit describes itself as a cake, a "Milk chocolate covered mallow cake" to be exact. While I would, in a casual setting, around fellow lovers of the Chocolate Kimberley, treat it more as a biscuit, nibbling eagerly on a few while I occasionally sipped a cup of Earl Grey tea, the cake description isn't wrong. I don't want to get into the semantics of the legal differences of a biscuit and a cake (i've hijacked too many talk-radio shows about that already in my lifetime), so I won't be addressing those, just to be clear. The reason I say it's not an ill-fitting description is because, like a cake, the Chocolate Kimberley is, for the majority of times while being eaten, something that bit more special than another custard cream or some other blandly uninteresting biscuit. I think we can all agree that cake is great, and the Chocolate Kimberley is a bite-sized piece of cake-ish wonder that goes that bit beyond being merely "great".

I should insert a little back story here: i'm from the Republic of Ireland, and Chocolate Kimberleys are a relic from my time there. My parents will travels back to that often soggy, lilted-accent land every so often, and when they do my siblings and I utter one word over and over to them upon their departure: "Kimberleys". And for the most part, they haven't failed us in bringing back some of the biscuits in question. Sometimes they even bring back a whole pack for each of us! But as time has gone on, locating Chocolate Kimberley biscuits in Ireland is, apparently, becoming increasingly difficult. Why, I recall upon the return of one trip from leprechaun land, after ignoring the polite formalities such as "How was you trip?" and "Hello", and searching through their hand luggage in a bid to find the expected gifts, we were informed that yes, Kimberleys had been obtained, but only luckily in the petrol station in Northern Ireland! I didn't worry about it much at the time as I had Kimberleys to eat. But I realized subsequently that the days of enjoying a Chocolate Kimberley may well be a scarce treat in the future.

Anyway, I should probably pass comment on what these damn things actually taste like - this is a food blog, after all. But deary, deary me! Much like the fact that one does not simply walk into Mordor, one does not simply describe the taste of a Chocolate Kimberley! The experience of one of these treats passing your through your mouth (pausing to chew, of course), is such an ineffable one that words seem lacklustre. Stephen Fry once said:

"You cannot explain a work of art in words. A painter makes a painting out of paint - paint is its language. If you can describe it, nail it, comprehend it in words then something is rather wrong. A work of art is precisely that which remains when you have run out of words to describe it."

Eating a Chocolate Kimberley is akin to taking in a piece of art. Although the purple outer wrapping of each Chocolate Kimberley is enticing and almost regal, admittedly the biscuit held inside isn't something that will strike your upon your first glance (the main result of a Google Image Search is a rather unflattering and poor example). It's only when you've partook in one that the sight of it becomes something else, something illustrious, something tempting, something you want.

But the sight is not important. Restaurateurs and other sorts might well state that presentation is everything, but it's not. You're not going to being eating one of these in a high class establishment where you've had to put on your best shirt, and shine your shoes to enter. No, you'll be sat with your family, joking about how the  youngest sibling, even at eighteen years old, still can't say the word "Birmingham" correctly. Or you'll be sat in front of the television, watching a classic Bill Forsyth film as the evening light fades away outside. This is a biscuit for a real person, not some overtly fancy overdone chocolate dipped piece of half-baked shortbread that you'll feel guilty about spending more than three pounds on, and only be left disappointed with afterwards. The Chocolate Kimberley makes you feel good about yourself. Yes, they aren't cheap (especially if you choose to import them from Ireland), but they warrant the reasonable price-tag put upon them. You eat one and you might suddenly realise that you don't have to spend your life going to bed at a reasonable hour, or adhering to every pointless rule set by the money-hungry company that employs you. If there ever was an epiphany biscuit, then the Chocolate Kimberley would surely be a front runner in the race.

Okay, so even though I did say that describing the taste of a Chocolate Kimberley is near enough impossible, I will make a modest attempt. And similarly, this biscuit is equally modest upon first bite. Your teeth go past the chocolate and you discover a two biscuit bases sandwiching a simple marshmallow centre. It goes down easy: soft but delightfully so; chewable but never a struggle, even for a pair of worn dentures; moreish but not in an instantly addictive fashion. The whole thing might well be gone in a matter bites and a matter of seconds, and you might wonder what the fuss was all about. But that's when the ginger after-taste comes in. Your tongue licks your upper teeth, and you remember that light milk chocolate covering that you bit through moment ago. You smile, and realise, "that was actually a really nice biscuit". Then you ask if you can have another one.

But there isn't another one! As I worried, the population of Chocolate Kimberleys has declined. Attaining some to bring back from the magical biscuit-making realms of Ireland has become harder and harder. Or maybe my parents just aren't making a good enough effort. Either way, the supply given to me over the past year has been depressingly low. Sometime last summer I got packet for myself, and I cherished them, only eating one when I needed some great cheering up, or when I'd done something to deserve one, like rescuing someone from a burning building, or haven written a song that will unite countries and bring and end to all wars. My kind-hearted self even took a couple of them to work, so my colleagues could partake in the joy. Predictably, once they had finished their treat, they enquired about the possibility of having another one (an enquiry I had to give a selfish and negative answer to).

And so I sit here, reminiscing over the taste of this wonderful breed of biscuit as my final one stares at me silently. Oh, how I want to tear its wrapper off, like a lover seized in passion wants to undress his partner. Oh, how I want to once again taste the soft centre within. Oh, how I pine after this near-mythical treat! I know there are other versions of the Kimberley. Why, I came across a pack of the unchocolated kind in my local supermarket the other week, and while they were an admirable tribute to the biscuits of focus here, they were no substitute. If anything, it just made me want my last one even more. And defeating the desire to give into temptation is so very, very hard, like a recovering alcoholic would lick his lips at the sight of chilled beer, or a clean, former drug addict's nose might twitch at the mention of some cocaine. That is the power of a Chocolate Kimberley. Once you've had it you will know no better, and want no other.