Classic book review: The Munch Bunch Series

I loved the Munch Bunch as a kid. Before the age of seven or so, my two go to series that never failed me were the Mr Men, and the group of anthromorphic fruit, vegetables, and later a few select nuts who had escaped from certain doom at the green grocers, and lived at the bottom of the garden around the shed. Part of the allure was the almost unattainable aim of collecting the whole series, but
just as you thought you'd  completed the set on the back of the book, the publishers would release
more!

Anyway, Luke discovered all my old books at my parents' house today, so we've been having loads of read alongs. I'd forgotten so much, but generally the rules seem to be:

1. All the berries are naughty, but don't pay much in the way of consequences.
Billy Blackberry and his friend Scruff Gooseberry decided to build a tunnel for the purposes of stealing the stock of the local confectionaire in order to fully stock their own shop. Despite the seemingly incriminating evidence of the entire inventory of one shop turning up in the only other similar outlet in the neighbourhood overnight, it actually takes several days for local constable Merv Marrow to overhear a confession. But instead of arresting him on the stop, Merv puts together an elaborate plan involving secret tunnels and diversions to land Billy and Scruff directly in jail for a lengthy sentence of... 'Not long.'

Rozzy Raspberry got it a little bit harsher, though her punishment could have been labelled slightly more inappropriate and dangerous when she was locked out of her house overnight for playing a few pranks on her friends.

2. Racial stereotypes are OK 
The Munch Bunch have no difficulties making sweeping stereotypical generalisations of whole populations. To start off with, there's Ollie the cowardly French onion, who's always crying.

Pedro the Orange, who wears a sombrero and strums an oversized mariachi style guitar.

Lizzie the Leek, meek, subservient and wearing a Welsh hat.

Supercool the cool cucumber, who seems to be a caricature of a Rasta, with his oversized hat and glasses, though appearances can be deceptive I suppose.

I guess it probably took all the restraint the author and illustrator had when they created the New Zealand spin off character Charlie Kumara (pals with the other Kiwi special releases, Kiri Kiwifruit, Ted Tamarillo and Patty Passionfruit)

3. So are inappropriate fancy dress costumes
Olly hosts a fancy dress party, presumably one of those frat-house-style ones with a bad taste theme. Tom Tomato decides to try on some cultural misappropriation with a Native American headdress. But, holy crap, is that Professor Peabody behind him, one upping the inappropriateness in a Ku Klux Klan hood?

4. Quackerry is all the rage, medically
Nurse Plum is the resident medical staff, keeping a small hospital to treat any injuries or illnesses which may strike the Bunch. There's no doctor in sight, but that's OK, some nurses are plenty competent enough to manage on their own. Nurse Plum, however, does have an approach to medicine which could be  described  as unconventional, at least.

Rozzy Raspberry, who as you may remember is a bit of a trickster, presents with an arrow through the head, having been 'shot by Indians' (there's that cultural sensitivity being laid on thick again). It's a trick, of course, but never mind that for now. Rather than preparing for neurosurgery, or, you know, examining her patient adequately, Nurse Plum is quick to lay Rozzy Raspberry up in bed and prescribe a course of  milk and sweets. You may think this is just the good nurse being kind, but no, she does actually say 'this will make you better in no  time'. Of course, th injury being a cruel jape, the worst thing that happened was Rozzy got locked outside for the night, but were an actual traumatic brain injury to present, the moral of this story would be a lot darker than 'be nice to your friends'.

5. The Munch Bunch diet is awful
You may have noticed this already. Obviously, any attempt to eat a healthy diet with five plus fruit and vegetable servings daily was going to end in grim canibalism.  So the Munch Bunch turn to sweets. A new sweet shop opens, with 'every type of sweet imaginable', and the whole town has turned out. Not only that, but when sweets start going missing frim said shop, it's a tragedy  that resonates throughout the township, enough to bring several townsfolk together to thwart the thieves to end the biggest local crisis since  the last spring harvest.

And we've already addressed the sweets as medicine fiasco.

This sort of book may have been OK back in the loose eighties, but you're probably safer sticking to reading your toddler Game of Thrones these days. That said, at least the skateboarding Rasta cucumber isn't too cool to use appropriate safety gear.

Wattie's for Baby: Green pea and courgette

Much to Emily's disappointment, I've decided to leave fruit behind for now. There's only so many times I can enthuse about how delicious a slightly different combination of puréed fruit is. I will return to the fruity flavours: there's still at least one product from Rafferty's Farm containing Acai berries that will require careful scrutiny.

I've often wondered what this blog would be like if it were a flag referendum. I think the comparison is apt: both are vanity projects, perhaps have their own small followings, but in the end are devoid of point, and met with widespread apathy. That said, I think of all the foods I have reviewed, I think Rafferty's Garden's Apple, Pear and Cinnamon would be Laser Kiwi: widely loved, but a little bit too anti-establishment for the hierarchy to want to take seriously. Only Organic Cauliflower, Broccoli and Cheddar, on the other hand, would be aiming a bit too hard to please, but end up bland, and forced down our throats like a Kyle Lockwood design. And the other Only Organic flavour, the one with Quinoa, would end up as Red Peak, widely loved and shared on social media, but in the end a bit of pompous hot air with a hollow core of nothingness. I guess Wattie's Apple would be the incumbent standard of New Zealand, tried and trusted by generations.Which would leave another Wattie's offering, Green Peas and Courgette, being the flag chosen by Gareth Morgan, a bit of an unoriginal load of unpalatable, self important crap.

Contains: Peas (39%), Courgettes (37%), Water for cooking, Cornflower.

First impressions: Not good. Green is really not a very good colour for a puréed food, especially if you can see sitting water pooling in the surface contours at the top of the jar. I've used a cold sick simile already this week, so I won't use it again. But this looks like something you'd scrape off the wall of your fish tank after neglecting it for a few too many months. Not cool Wattie's.

Emily's reaction: From bad to worse. Unfortunately my camera was not close to hand, or I would have one upped yesterday's photo of a disgruntled face. After three spoons, refusal made it look as though the little girl would go to bed hungry. Thankfully, Mummy remembered some left over pear and banana from lunch, and order was restored.

Bouquet: Suprisingly, not too bad. A bouquet of freshly shelled peas hit a not unwelcoming nose, with the sweet follow up of a hint of courgette. After the initially unpleasant sight of this product, I felt as though I could happily settle down to taste it.

Taste: a most unpleasant sensation in the mouth. Unlike the hitherto smooth concoctions I had tasted, this was more a messy mush. Peas once again dominated on the palate, with only a hint of the zucchini at the back of he tongue. Surprisingly for something added only to assist in the cooking process, the water was actually the second most prominent ingredient. The taste lingered unwelcomed in the mouth, not unlike an overstaying party guest, and only a hearty draught of water would rid of it. As per Wattie's serving suggestions, I gamely decided to try this food warmed up. Even worse: after thirty seconds in the microwave, a warm, sticky green paste presented itself, adhering to the sides of the mouth. Maybe this is an acquired taste and texture: after thirty two years, however, I am no closer to acquiring it.

Overall: 3/10. The fresh green pea taste itself was not unpleasant, but the texture, and over prominence of water made this a disappointing and poorly tolerated dinner.

Enjoy with: Not much. Maybe if you're truly English and in to that sort of thing, a plate of soggy fish and chips.

Only Organic: Cauliflower, Broccoli and Cheddar

Firstly: a week in and I'm still going! The novelty hasn't quite worn off yet, not just for me, but for you, the loyal reader, too! Thanks everyone who's kept on reading my inane blabber, I feel I've only scraped the surface of the underrated world of baby purée so far, and there are many high peaks and probable low troughs to go, so stay tuned! The quinoa post was an early highlight, and I hope to have several more for you over the coming weeks!

Father's Day today seemed like the perfect excuse to take on one of the big challenges I'd been saving for a while: Only Organic stage 2 cauliflower, broccoli and cheddar. So different in formulation was this from almost anything Emily and I had tried so far, I had genuinely no idea how it would come across. It has dairy in it! Not just cheese, but milk too! And cheddar: a family of cheese with such diversity across its spectrum! Would it be a strong, finely aged specimen? A creamier Colby varietal? Or a more delicate mild version? Would the cheddar entice us to gorge ourselves until full? (Geography pun there for all you South-East Englanders!) And how would Emily take the massive change in dietary direction forced upon her?

Contains: Cheese sauce (water, ground rice, whole milk powder, cheese (milk) 3%), Cauliflower (15%), Broccoli (9%), Onion.

Eagle eyes will note that the named ingredients only add up to of  27% of the total content, with presumably water and ground rice making up the balance. Having since tasted it, I can't really say this surprises me.

Actually on second thoughts, eagle eyes probably wouldn't notice that, as they would belong to eagles, which are birds, so can't read. Maybe The Eagles' eyes would, if they were feeding their grandchildren, as I imagine this would be the type of fancy upper class food they would choose in that case.

First impressions: not a huge amount to be honest. It's a pale cream purée in colour, easily the thickest offering so far, with a coarse texture visible to the eye.

The packaging is fairly non descript. A couple of florets of broccoli and cauliflower are scattered next to a red bowl containing some sort of broth-like liquid. A wedge of what appears to be a maturing, crumbly cheddar lies nearby, hinting at a rich, sophisticated taste within. Additional branding assures the consumer that only the finest New Zealand cheddar, mashed with a fork, is included, and that the cheese does not contain something called BPA, I assume from the cheese's rind.

Emily's reaction: I commented yesterday that a picture speaks a thousand words, so without further comment, this was Emily's reaction today.

When presented with an option of the food and a used wet wipe, Emily decided to try her luck eating the wet wipe. There was plenty of food left for me to taste.

Bouquet: Not much of a nose on this one at all. Hints of cauliflower entered the nostrils, but hardly lingered. There was dissapointingly little in the way of a cheesy scent, but sometimes the most delicate of curds have nary a whiff about them.

Taste test: Recall, if you will, the taste of cauliflower, the blandest of vegetables. Now imagine it mushed into a purée, until at the texture of cold vomit (without chunks). Add a hint of onion at the back of the tongue as an afterthought. Served cold. That is what Only Organic cauliflower, broccoli and cheddar offered up here. The cheese flavour was so underwhelming, it would be unsurprising to find the company was in breach of fair trading descriptions to include a picture of the block on the front of the packet. The broccoli was absent in taste, but possibly added to the mildly unpleasant tactile sensation in the mouth. Not truly as offensive as my offspring would have me believe (Luke also passed the left overs up), but hardly the winning taste combination you would expect from the ingredient list.

Overall: 4/10. I'm not angry, just disappointed at the blandness of this meal. Would probably gain from a cheese aged for 24-36 months prior to preparation.

Enjoy with: some actual cheddar, or an aged single malt Scotch, to add some flavour to your evening.

Watties for Baby: Banana, mango, courgette, and pea

After last night's quinoa experiment, I think today was always going to be a bit of a let down. So I got home from work, and cracked into a sachet of Watties banana, mango, courgette and pea purée. First things first: this is stage two stuff, things are getting more serious. I wasn't sure what this levelling up of the food would really mean, other than coming in the red pack instead of the blue, possibly a thicker blend? More complex ingredients? Who knows.

Secondly, this was settled on for the ingredients... Four staples I am well familiar with, but never that I would imagine would cohabitate inside a little red pouch. A combination so out there, it's like different having peas in a pod, as well as bananas, mangos, and courgettes. This is the Celebrity Big Brother of baby foods.

So with many questions, chief amongst them WTF?, I dived in.

Ingredients: Banana (42%), Mango (20%), Courgette (14%), Peas (14%), Spinach, Cornflour, Vitamin C

Yesterday I noted Only Organic crammed as many super foods as possible into the name of their product, no matter how insignificant they are to the end product. Well. Of note here, spinach, considered by some to be the ORIGINAL super food, is not even named! Watties are obviously not aiming for the Remuera market with this one.

First impression: It's green. Quite a dark green. And with slightly darker green flecks. Trying to come up with a comparison, unfortunately nothing fits favourably, but the closest I can think of is pond algae. Bottoms up!

Emily's reaction: As is becoming a predictable pattern, now, she loved it. Obviously, being six months of age, she hasn't seen much pond algae in her time, so this didn't really affect her appetite. Half a packet was gone in superquick time, before the long day took effect and she lost interest.

Bouquet: Given the composition, it is unsurprising that banana and mango heavily influenced the nose. I tried hard to catch an influence of courgette or pea, hardly the most fragrant of vegetables at the best of times, but alas to no avail. Given the appearance of algal sludge , I found the strong banana scent slightly disturbing.

Taste test: The texture is certainly thicker than the previous Watties offerings I had tried, but not disimilar to that of the Only Organic purée. Again a fine coarseness announced itself on the tongue, and surprisingly, the small dark green specks were appreciable in the mouth. I managed to isolate  a few of these on the tongue, but alas was unable to elucidate whether they were the peas, the courgettes, or the unannounced spinach.

Taste-wise, this shit is bananas. B. A. N. A. N. A. S. Not even a brief aftertaste of mango at the back of the palate can distract from the terrific flavour of the star of this show. The vegetables may as well have not turned up, such is their degustatory anonymity. The cornflour does, however, lend itself to a pleasant texture in the mouth, and as such is a valuable supporting act.


Overall: 8/10. Like the odd couple comedy film Twins, this may seem like a strange combination, but ends up working well.

Enjoy: As a novel base to a banana milkshake which would have a good chance of bringing all the boys to the yard.