My Papa & Peppermint Crisp

(Man Allowed)

It is now going on three years since my Papa's passing.

I miss him.

So much it aches sometimes.

The library our special place perhaps most of all. But lately I have fallen on another habit that reminds me so very much of my grandfather. Every time I do my grocery shopping I leave with a mint flavoured chocolate Wonder Bar to devour before I've even hit the parking lot! You see, I've never met anyone with a sweet tooth quite like my Papa's. And there are so many food memories when it comes to him. I loved him all the more when strangers came to the door, hungry. I would follow my Papa to the kitchen, still young then, and watch him lovingly swirl syrup and peanut together into a creamy paste that he would generously slather onto brown bread. Next he would select a mug and boil the kettle. But before pouring the hot water, he swore that to make it all the better, the milk and coffee and sugar had first to be whipped up, then hot water added. This was then delivered to the stranger at the door along with a listening ear for any and all woesome tales. I remember our camping trips together and how he was never without a tin of condensed milk for our coffees in the mornings. I remember that sweet orange powder he'd stir with water for us after his gym sessions, Game I think it was called. I remember too the peanut chocolate clusters he made for my cousins. The coconut chocolate clusters he made for me knowing I wasn't all that keen on peanuts. Leading up to Christmas time... And how in mine he'd hide a charm for my silver charm bracelet like a penny in a Christmas pudding. I remember the Bar Ones he loved for their caramel centre and the advert that promised you a 25 hour day. As a child, my papa was not unlike a superhero to me, and so I used to imagine that he must need a Bar One very much indeed for his busy days of saving the world one act at at time! And I remember birthdays when the bar ones were melted in a rich sauce with cream for scoops of vanilla ice cream. A real treat, rich and piping hot, over the chill of that ice-cream. And I remember how he used chocolate shake powder to whip with the ice cream so it wasn't quite a scoop anymore but it wasn't quite a milkshake either. But most of all, I remember his love of mint and chocolate ice cream and most of all, the chocolate Peppermint Crisp. The Peppermint Crisp ubiquitous here in the home of the peppermint crisp tart is a milk chocolate bar filled with a multitude of thin cylinders of 'cracknel' (really just a brittle crystalline/sugar concoction in fine hollow tubes). First invented by Wilson-Rowntree in the 1960s, it was eventually bought out and is now manufactured by Nestle. Most days just the little mint Wonder Bar for a few bob fills the gap. But there are other days it has to be a whole slab of Peppermint Crisp or a tub of ice cream, once made famous as Mint Royale at the wedding of Princess Ann. So I'm in good company. In mythology, Minthe was a Naiad-nymph of Mount Mintha in Elis of southern Greece much loved by the god Hades. Tragically to her hubris, when she claimed to be superior to his wife, Persephone, the insulted goddess transformed the nymph into a mint plant. Others believe too that mint was perhaps once used to mask the smell of the dead during burial rites and thus came to be regarded as a sacred plant of Hades. Hardly appetising. For all it's become a treasure in my kitchen! A natural antidepressant it's been discovered, and me prone to bouts of anxiety and depression, I just can't get enough of it. From growing it in my garden for my minty and parsley loaded meatballs to tabbouleh salad to plain ol' mint tea, it's a staple in my kitchen. But pair it with chocolate and you've got a killer combo. It's almost as if it shouldn't quite work. But damn, it does! And for me, a time travelling device, Tardis be damned, to be right there... Sitting outside in my grandparents' garden, in a spot in the sun, sharing a Peppermint Crisp with my Papa, snap by glorious snap. That melting chocolate, that almost icy invigorating 'cracknel'. To my mind, the chocolate to beat. And my grandfather the man to beat. My Papa and the Peppermint Crisp. Each one of a kind. Each my very favourite. Without contest and without compare. And for every bite of Peppermint Crisp, I miss him all the more. But I smile remembering so fondly. So many peanut butter and syrup sandwiches he made for the poor I used to call him St John of Peanut Butter. But me, he spoiled. The first grandchild. Me he spoiled the most. And I take another bite. Spoilt brat. But isn't it weird? Me hardly ever the sweet tooth... But since his passing, my tooth growing all the sweeter? Craving Golden Lion syrup... Craving condensed milk in my otherwise once sugar-free coffee... Craving that minty Wonder Bar if not the 'Real McCoy'... I miss him so. From my toes to my tastebuds. Can you love someone that much? That to miss them changes your very basic instincts entirely? Me who once reached without fail for salt and vinegar crisps before I'd ever consider chocolate... Now, reaching for mint and chocolate as if it were second nature, pure impulse... Perhaps yes. Perhaps our love is writ upon the very codes in our bodies and our cravings. I love and I remember and I snap off a block of Peppermint Crisp and it tastes how childhood should. And it tastes like time immemorial. And it tastes like my Papa's love. Snap. I have been so very loved.