But more importantly, as a child our own Lucy Glennon drew blood at the sharp end of one. They are the source, of course, of some NSFW innuendo. Given its innocent moniker, the Hershey's Kiss, introduced in 1907 and trademarked in 1924, can pose a surprising threat to our physical and emotional wellbeing. It's not just the taste of ming, though powerful, which is objectionable. They have a distinctive character, described by Paul Richardson in his history of chocolate as 'a piquant background flavour of something faintly sour, cheesy, or overripe, what chocolate experts call a 'barnyard' taste.'Īs anyone who has plunged their hand excitedly into a crackling bagful brought back from America (or a posh UK food shop with a penchant for kitsch) will know, there is nothing like the disappointment of discovering that a food which boasts an impressive amount of cultural glamour has all the flavour notes of regurgitated milk. The fact that the diddy conical filth-bombs are on a list (as yet unconfirmed) of Hershey's products expected to be sold exclusively by Asda next year may explain, finally, why Mum's gone to Iceland. Hershey's Kisses are coming to the UK and that is something I absolutely cannot get in bed with. New shapes and variations must be tasted, if only to be tossed, barely chewed, over one's shoulder on the way to Paul A Young's. However cheap, sweet or low in cocoa solids it may be, a frisson of curiosity accompanies each innovation. New chocolate is one of those things (like new cheese, new restaurants and, I am told, new shoes) which cannot fail to pique the interest.

Hershey kiss