Description. In theory, fruit-flavored hard candy with a soft chocolate center. In practice, less so. “Hard,” to begin, does not seem like a forceful enough adjective to describe the resistance of the exterior. In the package, the straws looked like differentiated pieces, but thanks to melt/de-melt/re-melt in transit, they presented as an unarticulated boulder of confetti-colored candy, necessitating the slamming of said massif onto the lab floor in the manner prescribed for orange Toblerone.
CFSes fall unfortunate prey to the Jelly Donut Hole Instability Principle, which states that, while certain holes will furnish only a small sad smear of jam, others carry a large reservoir that splurts onto the shirtfront. Similarly, chocolate is unevenly allocated among the straws: many contain none at all, most a mere hint, and others a disconcerting splorch of cake-frosting-esque cocoa paste.
The problem proceeds from the concept. The idea of filling a fruit shell with chocolate is understandable, but the size of each straw cannot allow for sufficient chocolate — and the CFS is, in the end, a neither-fish-nor-fowl combo snack, intended to capture two or more demographics and pleasing none. The chocolate lover will reject the faux-colate filling as insufficient; nor will it satisfy the “depressing past-the-sell-by senior-living-horehound” purist — should such a consumer 1) exist or 2) have enough original dental work remaining to pursue his/her avocation.