This is hitting the backwall on what my pastry cervix can handle. It’s a confectioners dream with nuts and chocolate caramel, 500 Grand bar in a glass but almost in this cloying “how many Mr Goodbars did I just eat?” sort of way. There’s pleasure attendant to the pain. It’s odd because this isn’t some unwieldy bruiser, the body coats in a medium viscosity but it just chews the scenery with the elements it chooses. I remember the regular chickow being awesome and a total stunner but this is like when car manufacturers remove the AC and the sound system for hardcore bakery enthusiasts. It’s unmanageable as a sweet treat daily driver, but a pleasure to hit that saccharine track with on the weekend. Sick ass rolo burnouts, socking vegan nerds.