I like it when food comes in bits and requires handling. Chocolate-coated peanuts are one of my favourites. Mechanically, I poke one piece after another out of their plastic wrapping like a robot arm. I place it in my mouth and crack the shell with a precise movement of my jaw. It splits unevenly. One half shatters into small fragments that spread across my tongue. The other half stays attached. I peel that part away with my front teeth, separating it from the nut inside. The peanut itself is smooth, slightly warm now. I push it into my cheek pouch and leave it there. I repeat this until I have a small collection stored on one side. The chocolate heap melts into a thick, sugary paste, coating my teeth, my gums. I sweep my tongue along the inside of my mouth, gathering it, compressing it. Then I swallow and go over to the next step. I move one peanut back to my front teeth and split it along its natural seam. The tip of my tongue slides along the exposed insides until it reaches the small knob holding the halves together. I store this part in my other pouch. The halves can be chewed and swallowed. The knob, I scan and inspect with my tongue until eventually I gnaw it as well. Nourishment is not the point of this process. I gift my brain serotonin to tame its addictive behaviour.
Another great one is a Danish sweet called Heksehyl. It consists of liquorice rods made from two main components. The inside is a stiff salmiak paste, while the casing is a gelatin-based liquorice skin that holds everything together. On the outside, it’s coated with savory-sweet crystals. When eating it, I put one piece in my mouth, then slice off a quarter and stow the larger part into my pouch again. I start by melting the sugar crystals, accumulating saliva and massaging it around the candy with my tongue. The sugar dissolves quickly, mixing into something syrupy. It can be swallowed immediately. Then I turn the piece over. The underside, the “belly” has a thinner layer of skin. I cut into it with my front teeth, the material yielding more easily now that it has softened. Then I work away the outer part using my teeth and tongue in tandem, while storing the core in my other cheek. I then cut the strip of skin by pushing it through the gap between my front teeth, guillotining it into slices. After that, I let my saliva dissolve them into a tar-like paste until it becomes uniform again, ready for digestion. Finally, I take the salmiak core and dissolve it in the same way as the skin. Its texture and taste are different, which makes for a nice variation. I continue like this, working my way through an entire pack.