Are chocolate-covered Altoids meant to take our breath away?
By Beth Teitell
Boston Herald Columnist
Wednesday, December 6, 2006 - Updated: 04:29 AM EST

Whoever it was, he or she was desperate to reach me. When I didn’t pick up my home phone, my cell started to ring, and when I ignored that, an e-mail popped up. Fearing something serious had happened, I warily opened the message, only to find this: ‘‘Do you realize there are now chocolate-covered Altoids????” my friend began.
        This wasn’t a hey-you-gotta-try-this kind of message, the kind thoughtful friends send out when Bloomies has a sale or a new Godiva kiosk pops up somewhere. This woman was not happy.
        ‘‘The whole thing with Altoids was that they were ‘unusually’ strong, bracing. But now, with the addition of chocolate, they’re wimping out.”
        To her, the chocolate-covered Altoid is simply more evidence of the so-called ‘‘tot-ification” of the American palate. ‘‘We’re all very 6,” she concluded in disgust.
        No sooner had I finished reading her plaintive opus than my phone rang again. Guess who? ‘‘Coffee is now like a slice of cake in a cup,” she said. ‘‘I rest my case.”
        Coffee? I’d almost forgotten what the word, standing alone, meant. ‘‘Oh,” I said, ‘‘you’re talking about drinks like the Chocolate Dipped Banana Iced Latte and Caramel Frappuccino?”
        I indulged in a superior snicker, but when you think about it, what’s a food to do? These days, a cookie or cracker or beverage ain’t nothing if it doesn’t have crossover appeal. ‘‘No trans fats” is just one small part of a snack’s bid for market share. So just as the chocolate-covered Altoids are chasing the Junior Mint crowd, so are the dinosaur-shaped Ritz Crackers are going after the Goldfish eaters, and the Goldfish, in turn, are seeking to overwhelm the competition by swarming (with fish that are whole grain or hideously colored or flavored to taste like cheap pizza). And to think the mustard selection used to seem overwhelming.
        Now it’s not enough to know what product you want, there are shape-related decisions to make, too. Yes, I’m in the mood to wolf down a sleeve of Chips Ahoy, but do I want them in cookie form (for younger readers the word ‘‘cookie” usually refers to something round)? Or perhaps the ‘‘stix,” chocolate-covered version would be better, morphing the treats into what used to be called ‘‘candy” without having to say so.
        It’s a crazy world out there, with Quaker, the formerly sober oatmeal people, selling breakfast cookies, and Pop Tarts redundantly turning into ‘‘Go-Tarts” (am I wrong, but were they ever a food one associated with sitting at a table?)
        You know, I’d be happy to let the candies and cookies fight it out among themselves in a civil war (or sectarian clashes) if they weren’t also coming after us dieters with their endless volleys of 100-calorie packs. Although I guess, to be fair, the act of ripping open five bags of Oreos or Sandies does burn some calories.
        Can Pecan Sandies Altoids be far behind?