Tootsie Pops and the Indian Wrapper

I don't eat a lot of non-chocolate candy, but a raspberry Tootsie Pop was given to me recently and I gave in to nostalgia. It is still pretty fantastic! I noticed that my wrapper had that legendary Indian (meaning a child dressed up as a Native American) on the wrapper.

When I was a kid, a popular myth that we all took for truth had to do with that picture. Word on the street (and in back yards, parks, school hallways) was that when you got a wrapper with an Indian shooting a star, it could be traded in for a free Tootsie Pop.

This childhood 'fact' was perpetuated for many years in my small town because the owner of a local corner store allowed it. Any kid that wandered into the store and presented the clerk with an Indian wrapper was given a free Tootsie Pop. The practice was not endorsed or promoted by the Tootsie Pop company, but was simply the choice of the nice owner who paid for this candy from his own pocket. This went on until that little shop was replaced by a chain convenience store.

I now live in an area roughly 10 times the population size of my hometown. I asked my kids if the wrapper meant anything to them but they had never heard of the free candy rumor.

If anyone wants to trade a Tootsie Pop for my wrapper, I like cherry, grape and chocolate too.  ;-)

Learn more about Tootsie Pop wrapper legends:
Shooting Star
A Tootsie Pop Mystery
Rumors for Tootsie Pops

The Legend of the Indian Wrapper

Winking Owl Wine - White Zinfandel

I had previously tried the other five offerings in the Winking Owl line from Aldi, intentionally leaving out the White Zinfandel because I usually refer to white zin as the training wheels of wine drinking.  It's too sweet, too weak, too...pink.  The problem is that I felt compelled to be a completest and try this sixth option.

White Zinfandel - "Cranberry and watermelon flavors with notes of fresh strawberry and cherry." Light, dry.

Right after I took a photo of the bottle, I tossed it it right into the refrigerator. Let's not even pretend that white zin can't live in the fridge.

After my husband went to work and the kids left for the pool, I uncorked the wine and got a whiff of something like Elmer's glue dissolving in apple cider vinegar, which isn't unpleasant to me. Make of that what you will.

The secretaries at my kid's school gave me this 16 oz tumbler as a gift, so I poured half of the bottle into it.

No, not really, but I could totally get away with it since it looks like juice or watery Kool-Aid.

Despite my snark towards white zinfandel, I was really hoping to be surprised by this one. I liked the Winking Owl Chardonnay and Pinot Grigio.

Noooooope.  It tastes like someone went strolling through a berry patch in sock-feet, then put those socks in a bottle, topped it off with water and the tears of a unicorn, left it in a prison basement for a year, the tossed it unceremoniously into a refrigerator.

Oh, that last one was me. I forgot.

It doesn't taste like it has gone bad; I think this is how it is supposed to be. There are cloying under-tastes that I can't identify and they are hard to swallow away. It's almost like it it started out sour and had a ton of sugar dumped into it. I swear I'm picking up the flavor of glue too. Don't ask how I know what glue tastes like.

It made my eyes burn and my face sweat. That's not pretty. I couldn't finish the partial glass I poured.

In my prior review I made the assumption that fans of white zin would probably love this. I retract that statement. I wouldn't give this to anyone that I liked. Leave this one on the shelf and go buy Oak Leaf at Walmart with your $2.89. They have nine to choose from...that could keep me busy for awhile. *hic*