By Ralph Gardner Jr.
The proof of a charmed life is that the news--from wars, to
government policies, to Super Bowl melodramas--has little
discernible effect on your happiness.
Thus, when current events materially affect your well-being it
can come as a shock, a slap in the face, a source of emotions
ranging from outrage, to anxiety, to mourning.
I'm thinking in particular of a settlement last week between
Hershey Co. and an importer of British products that prevents
Cadbury chocolates made in Britain from reaching the U.S.
Hershey, which has a licensing agreement to make Cadbury
products here, such as the Dairy Milk chocolate bar, apparently
contends that the packaging on the domestic and imported versions
are too close for comfort, and thus a threat to their
trademark.
I've never suffered any confusion. And the reason is that I seek
out Cadbury in places where I know the British version is
sold--such as Fairway and Myers of Keswick on Hudson Street.
And if I happen to be shopping at an unfamiliar supermarket, I
scour the labeling to make certain I don't suffer the
disappointment of arriving home and discovering I've bought the
American version by mistake.
What's the difference between the two? Why the big deal?
This analogy comes to mind. In the late '70s I purchased a
photograph by Edward Weston called "China Cove." It's a beautiful,
almost abstract scene taken from a great height at Point Lobos in
California in 1940. The image depicts the effect of radiant
sunlight on the sea, on a rock formation that rises from its
depths, and on long tendrils of seaweed.
The version I own was printed by Cole Weston, the photographer's
son, rather than by Edward Weston himself.
It's a mesmerizing photograph. Nonetheless, it doesn't compare
to the original, which I ran across in a museum not long ago. The
differences are subtle--the gradations of light in the father's
print are somehow more nuanced, the seaweed seems to whisper, the
sea is imbued with something like melancholy.
That's sort of how I feel about the difference between the
British version of Cadbury's, which has a higher fat content, and
the American recipe.
And it would be noticeable even to the average 8-year-old.
How do I know? Because that's when I first discovered Dairy
Milk, as well as Cadbury Flake--compressed leaves of chocolate that
literally melt on the tongue--and other delicacies, such as Aero
and honeycombed Crunchie.
It was on a trip to Ireland with my family. I spent the entire
summer's allowance--$5--on British candy in the first two weeks,
turning me into a sniveling supplicant, begging my parents for more
money to feed my habit.
There are even those who claim that Irish Cadbury is superior to
English Cadbury, that the milk is slightly more sour, creating a
sort of yin yang--between the sweetness of the chocolate and the
piquancy of the milk.
The distinction between the English and Irish versions is
subtle--but then again, whether the subject is photography, candy,
or barbecued ribs--it's precisely that subtlety, that
sophistication, that has raised us above brute nature, and given us
the will to tame chaos and glimpse the eternal.
As a full-blooded patriot, I believe the United States is the
greatest nation on Earth--only not when it comes to mass-produced
chocolate. Peanut M&M's stick out as the exception to the rule.
But I'll choose a Flake or a Dairy Milk over a Milky Way or
Snickers any day.
Some will probably disagree. But where British Cadbury falls
short, in my opinion, is in products that try too hard to indulge
American-style insatiability: such as Picnic--a pileup of peanuts,
nougat, caramel, puffed rice and biscuit covered in milk
chocolate.
The genius of British candy generally is that it doesn't try to
overreach. It realizes--unlike American manufacturers, who sell us
short again and again by substituting inferior ingredients in their
relentless quest to shave costs and increase profits--that the
human palate is infinitely discerning.
British Dairy Milk's "glass and a half" of milk slogan is borne
out in every bite.
So where do I go from here?
I suspect the reason Hershey's took the action it did is that
British Cadbury has become increasingly available in the U.S. in
recent years, and shoppers have probably become spoiled, realizing
there's no comparison between the two.
This feels like a Soviet-era Iron Curtain falling over my
freedom of choice. But I will hurry to Fairway to stockpile Flakes
and Dairy Milks as soon as this column is completed. And I will be
even nicer to my cousin George, who travels to Britain frequently
and generously brings back my favorite candy bars.
And if a black market develops stateside I will be among its
first customers. No action is too extreme in defense of
liberty.
ralph.gardner@wsj.com
Access Investor Kit for The Hershey Co.
Visit
http://www.companyspotlight.com/partner?cp_code=P479&isin=US4278661081
Access Investor Kit for Mondelez International, Inc.
Visit
http://www.companyspotlight.com/partner?cp_code=P479&isin=US6092071058
Subscribe to WSJ: http://online.wsj.com?mod=djnwires