Last Friday I was in Penn Station with my boss, grabbing some coffee at one of those nameless shops in the terminal. I noticed they had a bunch of Larabars by the register, and immediately started preaching to my boss about how good they are. He probably thought I was crazy. Maybe because my praise was along the lines of “This is what you eat to get those mind-controlling fluorides out of your hypo-spicines! The government wants to hold you back, but Larabars are the true way!” Maybe not my exact words, but I was fairly evangelical about it.
In some sort of weird coincidence that only matters when you’re writing a blog post, I returned home that night to find a package from LARABAR TOWER USA. It contained a few new flavors for me to try out.
This is awesome for three reasons.
1. These things may have saved my life at some point. I don’t always eat well. In fact, I occasionally go weeks at a time funneling crap into my system. Sometimes I need to cleanse myself a bit, if only to purge the cheese fries and beer and Greg Rucka storylines from my body. Larabars are, as far as I know, the only high-raw, vegan, kosher, gluten-free, dairy-free and (mostly) organic prepackaged food you can buy at a convenience store.
2. “Thanks for Blogging!” Probably the first time anyone has ever said this in a non-sarcastic way. My team of forensic experts also tell me that the indentations on the card indicate that this was not generated by an inkjet printer, but rather a human hand. Odd.
3. I didn’t ask for this stuff, they just sent it to me. I think I maybe mentioned that Larabars are great in a post on a message board or blog comment section years ago, when the company was first getting started. Then someone tracked me down and started sending me swag. That’s pretty awesome. It not only validates my role in the whole “community” aspect of the internet, but reinforces the belief that this is a company that listens to its audience.
So let’s talk: these new flavors.
PB&J Larabars are off the goddamn hook. They taste exactly like peanut butter and jelly sandwiches, but they lack whatever poison goes into Wonderbread. Ingredients: dates, peanuts, unsweetened cherries, salt. That’s it. And I guess that’s all you need to make a PB&J without the crap.
The tropical fruit tart flavor was amazing, resembling a pina colada in food form. It had dates, pineapple, coconut and… uh, I think I threw out the wrapper. But it was probably the most complex Larabar out there. Very rich.
The German chocolate cake is part of the Jocalat line of Larabars, which contain chocolate (meaning they’re not raw). I’m not a chocolate person, so I passed this off to my dad. He seemed to orgasm for about seven minutes straight, which will haunt me until the day I die. He really liked this. And he’s the sort of guy who eats nothing but fast food and ice cream night after night.
That’s one of the things I really like about Larabars: they taste damn good. They’re rich and decadent, cakey and dessert-like. I feel like pulling a Folger’s Crystals moment on my dad: “Hey, you know that chocolate bar you just ate? IT WAS GOOD FOR YOU!” But I value the silent, ambiguous resentment of our opposing lifestyles, so I won’t risk it.
In conclusion: Hey, Larabars, I think you’re pretty keen and I want to ask you to the homecoming dance.