Turron.

Ah. The edible souvenir. The biggest gamble of them all.

We’ve all been there: stuck in a foreign supermarket, on the final day of the holiday, desperately searching for something to buy for the rellies. You’ve probably never heard of half the things there but time is running out. If you don’t buy something now you’ll miss your coach – or go back empty-handed, looking like the holiday grinch.

I imagine this was rather like the scenario faced by my mum on her recent trip to Spain. In her case, she’d already bought me some fancy oil cakes – on which I have mused in this blog. However, even these were not enough to stave off the Last-Minute Souvenir Frenzy. Cue a batch of turron from SuperSol – a ‘rip-off Spanish supermarket’, if the second entry on Google is anything to go by.

For those who have not yet encountered it, turron is a Spanish specialty, ever so slightly like nougat and as varied in texture and flavour as the humble biscuit. It is generally made with egg white, sugar, honey and nuts. In Barcelona, I tasted some extremely sticky samples, one of which contained puffed rice to give an exciting crunch.

As the eagle-eyed among you may have spotted in the photo, the one my ma brought back for me arrived in the style of lemon mousse, and was coated in rippled milk chocolate. Until last night, I’d admired the packet for several weeks, wondering about the contents. Then I cracked it open.

It wasn’t quite what I was expecting.

Unlike nougat – and the turron I’d tried before – this wasn’t dense and chewy but… well, moussey. I shouldn’t have been surprised, really – it said as much on the box.

Now, don’t get me wrong: I love mousse. But there’s a problem: it’s far too easy to eat. There’s no barrier there – the teeth just sail right through it.

And so it was with the turron.

I’d only had a couple of bites’ worth when I realised I was well into the bar. Fifty grams gone, just like that – a quarter of the batch already coasting down my throat.

What a shame.

I had only had a few seconds of fun, but the pleasure was over. I wrapped the rest up and stowed it in my chocolate tin.

‘Why didn’t you keep going?‘ you might ask. ‘I thought you were the Pud-Hog.’

To which I would reply, ‘That’s right. I am the Pud-Hog. And when it comes to dessert, I am constantly overdoing it, as is my wont. HOWEVER, Spain is a long way to go for replacements, so if you don’t mind, I’d like to make this treat last more than five seconds.’

Anyway, if that’s not enough to restore your faith, I had another look at the box this morning. Apparently, one serving is 20g, so I’ve already eaten two-and-a-half times the normal amount. Not bad for five seconds of eating.

told you I was a hog.

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