Light and Dark. Good and Evil. Love and Hate. Happiness and... Cajetas. Cajetas. A duality in and of itself. On the one hand, a seemingly delicious carmel treat, packaged in a quaint little cup displaying a smiling happy bear face. But beneath its grinning visage, a disturbingly thick, viscous, grainy substance that manages to be sweet while leaving behind a distinct salty, brine-ish aftertaste. Cajetas, I curse your name.
At first, we were uncertain as to whether we had actually found a bad candy. I mean, I enjoy carmel a great deal; as much as the next fellow. And so when my roommate brought home a pack of Cajetas, which rather resembled carmel itself, I was uncertain. I had doubts. And for that one faltering moment, when my defences were down and my hopes were up, I would pay a dear price... the loss of my soul. Cajetas be damned.
To be certain, Cajetas does not TASTE nearly as bad as Tamarind or (shudder) El Sabroso. The flavor was actually close to being tolerable. It was the CONSISTENCY that made me want to vomit forth my very existence out of my nose and onto the ground beneath me. When mixed with saliva, Cajetas creates the illusion of having a mouthful of watery mud, including the hard, rocky granuals (Sugar? Salt?). Yet for all of its liquidy sweetness, the Cajetas also retained a semi-solidified, gel-like state.
And it all came together in what truly was one of the most godawful experiences I had ever put my mouth through. It was the equivalent of trying to chew on hair gel mixed with sand. It was like immersing your mouth in hot chunky peanut butter, and then finding out that IT WAS NOT PEANUT BUTTER. It was like naked jello wrestling at a crowded rodeo on a hot, sticky summer day in Texas. It's like your mom coming home and catching you trying on her underwear when you were eight years old. Um, actually it's nothing like that, and I would never have done such a thing... but if I had, it would've been because of Cajetas.
And so, to summerize: DON'T.