Chocolate addiction hard to stop

By Karl Terry: Fredom columnist

“Where did you hide them,” whined my wife as she opened cabinets after supper on a recent evening.

I didn’t have to ask what she was looking for, I knew she was after the Whoppers the Original Malted Milk Balls. If I played my cards right I knew she would do anything for the candy.

No, I didn’t hide them just because it was Easter, I’ve been hiding them for years. I’ve learned that if I don’t hide them I might not get any myself. I got tired of coming across empty Malted Milk Ball cartons so I decided to do something about it.

I’ve loved the chocolate covered candy since I was a kid and they came in a little cellophane sleeve with five pieces. I liked to pop one in my mouth and suck the chocolate off or bite one in half to see the crunchy center.

Introduced in 1939 as Giants, these days Whoppers come in a 12 ounce carton that resembles a small milk carton. They’re also smaller than the original but we’ve made up for that, the serving size on the back of the carton is 18 pieces with approximately eight servings per container. That means instead of five pieces at a sitting my wife and I usually eat about 72 pieces each at a time. That’s only 760 calories.

Well, maybe we don’t always split the box between us but there is something addictive about Whoppers. I’ve often wondered if that white, porous center isn’t really crack cocaine or something. You can’t stop eating them unless someone gets up and takes them to another room. I volunteer for that duty and then hide them from my wife later, just to help her fight her addiction, you know.

One Sunday afternoon on my way to the store to pick up something I made the mistake of asking my wife if I could bring her anything. The reply was Malted Milk Balls. Unfortunately I couldn’t find the chocolatey treat anywhere on the shelves. Instead I substituted Robins Eggs. A candy sold at Easter that is made by Whoppers people but has a hard candy shell around the milk ball instead of chocolate. They were consumed, but not with the same gusto.

The wife paid me back for the Robins Eggs by buying me Whoppers in the smaller movie box size for my birthday. I split the first one with her but didn’t do a very good job of hiding the remaining box and the next day it was gone by the time I was home from work.

With celebrities like Tiger Woods and Jesse James going to sex rehab, I’m thinking of sending my wife to candy rehab. Guess I might have to join her though.

In our defense, the Whoppers carton actually makes a health claim right up front, “25 percent less fat than the average of the leading chocolate candy brands.” That’s close enough to health food for me.

Now, if I can just remember where I hid that carton.