Posted by fústar in 
With the Ryan Report's revelations continuing to dynamite the (already shaky) moral foundations of pious ould Catholic Ireland, local hawkers & mongers of nostalgia would seem to be faced with a quandary. How do you sell & package a past that now looks (even to the mistiest eyes) more inky black than sun-dappled?
Well if the current proliferation of "Weren't the 70s/80s gas?!" radio ads are anything to go by, then you simply ignore the negative while accentuating the whimsical. Barefoot trips across the fields to Hazelbrook Farm? Delightful! The Holy Trinity of Kimberley, Mikado & Coconut Cream? Yummy! John putting the cat out? He will be soon.
Times of recession and uncertainty tend, of course, to have adpeople and product peddlers rushing to press reset/reinvent buttons, and 2009 is no exception. Out goes Celtic Tiger ostentation and swagger. In comes the homemade, the hand-me-down, and the humble. All a load of disingenuous bollocks naturally, but someone's getting paid relatively handsomely to push the narrative.
There are, however, those who by never changing saved themselves the bother of changing back. Near the top of this imagined list would, undoubtedly, be Oatfield – purveyors of old-timee sweets boiled1 to within an inch of their…er…lives.
When I was a short-trousered (figroll-loving) youth, Oatfield products epitomised all that was bland, glamour-free, regressive and suffocating about Irish life. They were sucked furiously by pinch-faced nuns and given as gifts by well-meaning (but hopelessly uncool) aged relatives. In their boiled, shiny surfaces you could almost see your reflection. And the reflection you could almost see was struggling not to look disappointed and underwhelmed ("Thanks, Aunty Margaret…").
The worst thing that a sweet can ever be is "sensible" – and sensibleness was a quality that Oatfield sweets had in abundance. I say "had" but really "have" might be more accurate. For Oatfield are still soldiering on – eschewing all that's faddy & new-fangled. Embracing all that's sucky and ancient (their website is actually analogue, not digital – with offline web pages printed on wafer-thin, Ireland's Own style paper).
But enough. Time to get to the sugary goodness at the heart of this post. After a 25 year gap – a gap in which I've eaten little but foreign, "Fancy Dan" confectionery – I'm doing what the adpeople tell me and getting back to basics. Five packs of Oatfield's finest sit on the desk before me. I shall now (in the interests of, y'know, science or something) suck, lick and eat them, recording my vital findings below. Let us begin.
Sweet shape = Tiny hockey puck meets toy UFO. Sweet taste/texture = Fairy Liquid & crushed up dishwasher tablets. The sherbety "tickle" feels like someone dragging tinsel dipped in "oil of orange" (yes, that's one of the yummy ingredients) across your tonsils. Or to quote Jess's summing up of the experience – "Lemsip…and someone jizzing acid into my mouth". Delicious.
Same shape, but a stark white mediciney hue. For "soothes sore throats" (as the blurb promises) read "violent mentho-lyptus attack that makes every intake of breath an agonising ordeal".
A classic "dissolve and release" sweet. A hard outer casing gradually gives way to the corrosive effects of sucking and saliva before spurting brown goo onto your waiting tongue. The packet promises "Cocoa Solids" (*snigger*), and though the oozing centre is anything but solid the scatological qualities are hard to deny.
Hmmm. Initially appears a slight variation on a theme (with a choccy outer and an orangey inner) but testing proves otherwise. It's the same damn sweet! Same hydrogenated vegetable oil. Same ammonium phosphatides. Same poo-like core. It's an outrage. Heads will roll.
Ah…the Emerald. Oatfield's flagship. Individually wrapped and proudly unboiled. Back in the early 80s there wasn't a house in Ireland that didn't have a half-finished packet of Emeralds in the press. Nobody bought them. They just appeared there. Teleporting in from Oatfield HQ in Donegal.
If a cheapo chocolate casing containing an interior of sand was your idea of fun, then Emerald's would leave you laughing delightedly. Or at least that's how I remembered the experience. The contemporary reality is (I'm disappointed to report) somewhat less disgusting. Perhaps Oatfield heeded customer demands and eased off on the dessicated coconut (the "sand" of which I speak), or perhaps my palate has been radically altered by age. Whatever the case may be, I'm staggered to find 21st century Emerald's very moreish.
Still look like turd/mini soda bread hybrids though.
- Pronounced: buy-ild. [back]
Oatfield! Hrroaargghh! My da used to buy them at a filling station any time we were off on some jaunt down south, or north west, in the case of Donegal. The two buildings I always recall from passing through Letterkenny were the Oatfield Factory and the Hospital, and they seem fused in my memory. To me the filling tasted like chocolate that’d been left down the side of the sofa for 8 months.
On Irish sweets and their relation to the Ryan report, there is one anecdote I can’t recount now without it sounding creepy. There used to be a kindly old brother from one of the religious orders who’d come to our house quite frequently, up visiting from Dublin, and he’d always secretly slip me a couple of tubes of Silvermints, which were rather exotic at the time. It’s now near impossible to tell this story without imagining some potential ulterior motive on the part of the brother, even though I’m sure there was none.
As a sufferer from car sickness as a youngster, I refused to travel anywhere further than my own driveway unless a supply of sucky sweets was to be had.
Their mythical medicinal curative powers I now wonder about.
But I do, therefore, know that the Chocolate Orange is
(a) a fine and upstanding sweet in trained hand but
(b) will tear up the roof of your mouth with shards of sugar shrapnel the moment that chocolate is released if you’re not careful.
Hugh, Filling stations were Oatfield’s natural home. Or small town cinema sweet counters. Or stalls outside Novenas. Nowadays they’re mostly found (in Limerick at any rate) in 2 Euro shops. They operate at the fringes of the mainstream.
I’m sure everyone in the country of a certain age has a similar priest bearing sweets story. Our fella used to bring us Iced Caramels. Not made by Oatfield but certainly existing in the same (possibly creepy) universe.
Simon, Given your love of Macaroon it doesn’t surprise me to hear that you were a sucky sweet lad. RE: The shards (or shrapnel) you speak of – Dime Bars were similarly lethal. Like biting into a pane of sugared glass.
And then there were Time Bars – forged from adamantine chocolate. Seasoned Time Bar eaters knew that insistent licking was the only way to wear one down (and get your money’s worth). Amateurs would recklessly chomp down with front teeth. Teeth that would invariably remain lodged in the Time Bar’s surface when the shocked youngster withdrew it from his/her bleeding gob.
Emerald Greens are lovely yokes altogether. I’m also quite fond of Orcolate Chocolanges. Even though they manage to communicate such an aura of hideous dullness.
Dunno about Time bars, but Calypsos are the hardest substance known to man.
Emordino, That dessicated coconut tastes like shavings from the Oatfield factory floor. I’m still trying to ease some of it out from between my teeth.
What’s up with the ‘Easers’ packet in the photo? It looks like it’s been crudely photoshopped.
Also, ‘Easers’ sounds suspiciously like a name for laxatives.
All Oatfield sweet packets look like they’ve been crudely photoshopped. They look pixellated – even when you’re physically holding one in your hand.
There’s definitely a suppository vibe going on alright (and I reckon they would be easy enough to…er…insert). A cheap suppository vibe. As the Euro-symbol-like “E” seems to indicate.
Hi Fústar,
Am new to this – found you when doing a Google search on OF – trying to buy online.
I actually love Oatfield Sweets – nothing like an Emerald – I love sucking through them and rubing the coconut off the top of my mouth with my tongue – lovely unique texture.
As someone who is on a constaint diet – like most people – I think these long lasting sweets are great – not like some others – few seconds of pleasure then their gone from your lips leaving you wanting more – Emeralds last longer – leaving you with a satisfied – value for money feeling.
I always associate Chocolate Oranges with GAA matchs – get a longing for one as soon as I set foot on a GAA field.
Have seen some new packaging for Emeralds lately – looks like their getting a facelift.
Eileen, That’s the closest thing to “adult” Oatfield fan fiction I’ve ever read. I’m off to have a cold shower (while sucking a cooling Easer).