The Biscuiteer: Fine Fare Strawberry Creams
Manufactured by: Fine Fare
This may be the worst biscuit I have ever tasted. It’s possible that I have repressed memories of worse biscuits, or that I might have eaten some while drunk and forgotten how bad they were when I sobered up. So I’ll say that this is the worst biscuit I can remember eating.
I am giving Fine Fare Strawberry Creams one star because, just like the weevils who made it their home and which I probably ate, I want some wiggle room in case I ever discover a worse biscuit.
But that would have to be a biscuit baked from Satan’s own turds.
Cream sandwich biscuits are not a particular favourite of mine (generally I find them too dry), but I was intrigued by this brand, which I had never heard of. I still can’t track down much information about them online; I doubt they are associated with the British chain of supermarkets or the American independent grocers. But apparently some of their products are halal.
Fine Fare also makes a Custard Creams biscuit, which, to be honest, piqued my interest more. But I plumped for the Strawberry Creams because they were on special. Moral: ask yourself why something might be on special. Perhaps it’s very, very old. Perhaps the packaging is damaged. Have. You. Got. What. You. Paid. For?
They looked all right to me, but then I didn’t check the use-by date or anything. Also, the fact that they contained weevils might be my fault: they sat in my pantry for some months because I never especially felt like eating them.
But finally, a fellow Biscuiteer with whom I road-test many of these products came over for afternoon tea and said, “Okay, let’s try the Strawberry Creams.”
Upon opening the packet and taking out a biscuit, the first thing I noticed was its oddly crumbly texture. The biscuit is quite thick, and in my innocence I associated the crumbliness with shortbread. “Oh boy!” I thought to myself. “I am in for a real treat!”
I had just taken my first bite and was musing on the especially dry texture in my mouth, even for a sandwich biscuit – where was the strawberry cream? – when my afternoon tea companion, who had not yet bitten into her own biscuit, said in horrified tones, “Mel, are there weevils in those biscuits?”
And by jingoes, there were. I could actually see them wiggling around in holes they had gnawed in the Strawberry Creams. As if that wasn’t bad enough, my fellow Biscuiteer added with glee, “You just ate weevil poo!” And that’s when I realised what the crumbly stuff was.
Oh well. It’s protein. Apparently weevils are not poisonous, either. Just to be on the safe side, I quickly gulped my tea, so as to drown any weevils who’d somehow made it past my fierce gnashing teeth and survived my stomach acid.
Anyway, I couldn’t eat more than that single bite, but in that bite I noted a marked flavourlessness. I couldn’t really taste the cream, and the biscuit was all texture and no taste.
Another thing that troubles me is the tyre-like tread on the biscuit, as if someone had noticed the weevils in there and stomped on it while wearing Dunlop Volleys, or perhaps run over it with a miniature car.
Avoid this biscuit at all costs. Feed it only to the most unwelcome and annoying of guests.