Quality Street: Chocolates for Life

From England, to Africa, to the United States, it’s quite amazing how Quality Street chocolates have followed me through life.

By Jill Winfield

As I child growing up in England, I would sit with my family around the fire on Sunday evenings, watching old black and white television with tea and toast. Then, as a special treat, my brothers and I would get to pick two each of the mouth-watering, dynamically delicious Quality Street chocolates.

My favorites were always the soft centers–a scrumptious milk chocolate in the shape of a strawberry and oozing pink strawberry flavored fondant. I also liked the more oval shape chocolate, filled with orange fondant. My brothers tended to go for the caramels and cracknels, which pleased me no end.

The skill was being able to spot the chocolate of your choice and pick it out with the least disturbance to the box or tin because we were not allowed to rummage. “No rummaging”, my Mother would command in sternly, “pick nicely.”

I knew that Quality Street were made on a London theme and I fantasized that London must look like the pictures on the chocolate tins and boxes–ladies dressed in voluminous Georgian-period costumes and men in breeches, raising their hats and bowing graciously to the ladies as they passed by. A scene representative of the London Stage and high society.

Some years later, I was sorely disappointed when I visited London on a school trip. Our destinations included the Houses of Parliament, Tower Bridge and Covent Garden. I saw Beefeaters and the Changing of the Guards at Buckingham Palace, the ‘sloans’ of Kensington and a West End stage show, but not once did I see anyone who looked like the ladies and gents on the Quality Street tin.

Still, undaunted by that disappointment, Quality Street continued to hold their place of importance in my life. On several occasions of note I either presented a tin of the delightful confectionery to others, or was presented with one myself. Most memorable of these was giving birth to my daughter. Shortly thereafter, the largest tin of Quality Street arrived as a gift from my work associates. Forget the flowers, they knew exactly what I would prefer! Late into the night with heavy eyelids and a baby at breast, I managed to prize the lid off with one hand and blindly reach in–only to pick out my most favorite. Such talent should never go unnoticed.

Fast forward another few years to some work in Zimbabwe at a childrens’ orphanage. Yes, you’ve guessed Armed with many large tins of Quality Street chocolates (as well as toothbrushes and toothpaste) for all the young residents, I set out for Africa. Most people would have had copious amounts of mosquito repellant, but not me! Just my QS tins! But the effort of explaining this strange cargo to the Zimbabwean Customs Officers (plus the odd sample handed-out) was worth it, just to see the faces of the children. For some time, the 120 children sat cross-legged on the assembly room floor and all that could be heard was the shrieks and cries of delight, the rustle of paper and the words “Qooleety Streeet.” The staff were hugely impressed by my ability to bring such order to their normally chaotic world.

And of course, one should never forget the usefulness of the emptied Qooleety Streeeet tins. In a country and culture where absolutely nothing is ever thrown away, the tins were put to some amazing uses. They were used for egg collecting, for storage containers in the kitchen and for some of the children to keep their meager possessions in, and as a receptacle for one of the greatest delicacies in that part of the world–grasshoppers. My last glimpse before heading back to England was of an elegant African girl named Fortunate, with none other than a Qooleety Streeeet tin masterfully perched on top of her head! I later heard that she had a baby girl and guess what she called her? Yep, she was Christened ‘Qooleety Jill’ after the chocolates and me!

Nowadays, I live in America. Over 5000 miles from Quality Street land. You cannot begin to estimate the rapturous excitement I feel when an English visitor asks me what I should like them to bring me. Well of course, Quality Street and, oh , English tea bags!  Each chocolate is made to last a lifetime, by slowly nibbling with a fine cup of tea. Life’s simple pleasures really are the best! One per day until the box is gone.

My husband looks on in disbelief as I carefully return them to the fridge to await the next day’s ritual. For the life of him, he can’t see why I don’t just trot down the road for a root beer or something. How could I ever get him to understand? No more so than he could ever get me to understand his obsession for peanut butter!

There are, after all, some things in life we can never explain to anyone except those in the know. And anyone who knows Quality Street will know what I mean!

To learn more about Quality street, visit www.nestleeuropeanchocolate.com/qualitystreet/story/story.asp

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