You may have noticed that we're doing evil things to a 12kg Gummy Bear right now. We've tested its carrying capacity, we've tested its suitability as a soft drink ingredient, and now it's time to tackle the most important question of all: Who's going to eat it? More:
A 12kg Gummy Bear represents a challenge. Not just to lift, but a challenge to the aspiring gourmet — presuming, that is, that anyone willing to chow down on 12kgs of very solid (and slighly sweaty after a week in a box in an office) Gummy flesh could be described as a gourmet.
Rather like how everybody seems to ask when they're getting NBN connectivity, the most common question asked around the office once the bear had landed was whether they could have a quick nibble on it. It's a foodstuff, after all, so it seemed only fair to share. But… how?
We'd placed foods, clips and assorted tech paraphenalia all over teddy's tummy and feet, which meant we were averse to serving it up wholesale. There probably aren't specific OH&S rules regarding serving up massive gummy bears that have been in contact with bacon in the rulebook, but it's better to be safe than sorry.
So the decision was made that the bowl section would be saved for later (insert ominous laugh here) and we'd serve up the largely unblemished head.
This created a problem, because, as we noted when we severed the foot, gummy flesh this thick is rather hard to chop through.
With effort, sharp knives and some bad language, we managed to sever the candy arteries holding the bear's wobbly skull in place.
This revealed a new problem. We'd been somewhat grossed out by the slightly fetid gummy sweat that accumulates in the bear's tummy bowl, but that was nothing compared to the coagulated sugary goop that ran down the back of the head.
Best not to let the gathering crowd of office dwellers spot that. Presentation is everything, so the top chefs say. All we had was a plate, some keen gummyholics and a few sharp knives.
They hit exactly the same problem we did; cutting through this thing is HARD WORK. Even a serrated knife didn't make as much difference as we initially thought it would.
Cubicle dwellers were mostly nervous about touching the gummy flesh, but a little hands-on contact is inevitable if you want to shave anything off.
Ultimately there were few takers who ate more than a nibble. Good for their teeth, but not so good for the prospects of the bear.
This raises a key concern with the 12kg Gummy Bear; it's a great novelty laugh prospect for a party, but realistically, it's not much of a foodstuff itself. It's quite hard to cut, and the only real way to serve yourself any kind of decent sized chunk it to rip at it with your hands. At a party, once more than one person has done that, I think you'd find most people steering clear of actually eating the thing.
Now… what are we going to do with a headless Gummy corpse?
Well, aside from the obvious, that is. Stay tuned.