My great gandmother - my mother's mother's mother - was a Pascall. Her family were the lolly Pascalls. Lollies: we used to call them chonks when I was a kid, but that word seems to have disappeared.
I love licorice allsorts. I LOVED Pascall licorice allsorts. Notice the D? Past tense. A few years ago Pascalls destroyed their licorice allsorts. They added coconut flavouring and they reversed the order of the layers. Whereas Pascall licorice allsorts were almost unique in the fact that their allsorts had licorice on the outsides, now they have gone the cheapo route and put the coloured bits on the outside. Just. Like. Everyone. Else.
I have a stash of old-school Pascall licorice allsorts. I stockpiled when they changed. The Best Before date on them is 06/08/07, so I guess they're at least five years old. But still so good... I started with a couple of dozen packets but temptation has reduced that to three. After this morning that will be two. Maybe the last two surviving packets on the face of the earth. The last reminder of how good chonks were... I harangued the Pascall customer support line - 1800 250 260 if you want to call - and wrote half a dozen letters. Eventually I even invoked the "I'm family..." plea but to no avail.
To fill the dark yearning chasm within me that aches for good licorice allsorts I bought handmade chonks. These glass allsorts came from Latrobe Regional Gallery, but I have no idea who made them. The bowls are Kirsty Sutherland's though.
And in the little nook that holds my beloved coffee machine, toaster, kettle and grinder is this lovely linocut by Aileen Brown.
I guess it's more adult to collect art and objet - and certainly better for my teeth! - but I still miss the original Pascall licorice allsorts...