Why Sweets Taste Better by the Sea

There is a particular sort of appetite that only appears at the seaside. It arrives somewhere between the car park and the promenade, sharpened by salty air and the low rumble of shingle underfoot. Nutritionists would probably tell you it is the cold wind and the walking. Anyone who has stood outside a beachfront shop with a paper bag in one hand knows it is something else entirely.

Seaside sweets are not really about quality in the fine-dining sense. They are about context. A stick of rock eaten at a bus stop is a lump of sugary chalk. The same stick, eaten on a breezy breakwater with the tide coming in, is a small ceremony. What follows is a rough guide to the classics, and how to get the best out of them.

Rock: Read the Stick Before You Buy

Proper seaside rock has the name of the town running right through it, all the way to the last inch. That is the whole point. If the lettering only appears on the outer layer, or fades after two bites, you have bought a tourist trinket rather than the real thing.

A few things worth checking:

• Weight in the hand. Good rock feels dense and slightly heavy for its size. A light, airy stick has been over-stretched and will shatter into shards.
• Clarity. The clear part should be glassy, not cloudy. Cloudiness usually means it was boiled too fast or pulled too cool.
• The break. Snap a piece rather than biting straight through. It should crack cleanly with a short, sharp sound, not bend like toffee.
• Flavour. Traditional peppermint is the benchmark. If you want something gentler, look for fruit flavours, but peppermint is the one that tastes most like a British beach.

Rock keeps for weeks in a tin, which makes it a decent souvenir. Wrap it in greaseproof paper rather than leaving it in the shop bag, where it will go sticky in warm weather.

Fudge, Tablet and Clotted Cream

Fudge is the seaside sweet that rewards a bit of judgement. Buy it in slabs cut to order rather than pre-packed cubes, and ask for the piece from the middle of the tray. The edges dry out and go grainy. A good vanilla fudge should be soft enough to dent with a thumbnail but firm enough to hold its shape. If it crumbles, it was over-beaten.

Venture further round the coast and the names change. In Scotland, you will find tablet, which is denser, grittier and considerably sweeter than fudge. In Cornwall and Devon, clotted cream fudge is worth seeking out, though it has a shorter shelf life and will not survive a hot car. If you are buying for later, keep it in a cool bag away from the sun.

Fudge is generous stuff. Buy a quarter of what you think you want, then go back for more if the mood takes you.

Ice Cream, Doughnuts and the Wind Problem

The 99 has become something of a national institution. A soft-serve cone, a chocolate flake pushed in at an angle, and a disintegrating wafer that always seems to go before the ice cream does. Eat it immediately, in the shop doorway if the queue allows, and keep an eye on the wind. A gust at the wrong moment will take the whole flake.

Doughnuts are the warm alternative when the breeze turns cold. Freshly fried, rolled in caster sugar, and best eaten within about ninety seconds of leaving the paper bag. If you are offered cinnamon, take it. If the doughnut is sitting under a plastic dome and has been there since morning, walk on.

There is also the seagull question. Hold your food at chest height, not above your head, and never leave a paper bag unattended on a bench. The birds along the British coast are bold, experienced and entirely without shame.

The Old-Fashioned Counter

Many seaside sweet shops still keep a proper pick-and-mix counter, and it is worth a few minutes of your time. These are the sweets that travel well and keep children occupied on the drive home:

• Aniseed balls — hard, dark and long-lasting, with a hot finish.
• Pear drops — sharp, fragrant and dangerously moreish.
• Rhubarb and custard — a boiled sweet that actually tastes of both.
• Cinder toffee — brittle honeycomb, best eaten the same day.
• Sherbet fountains — the liquorice dip is the whole point. Ignore anyone who eats the sherbet first.

Ask for a mixed quarter and the shopkeeper will usually throw in a couple of extras. This is one of the great unsung pleasures of a British day out.

A Practical Packing List

If you are planning a proper seaside day, a little forward thinking saves a lot of disappointment. A few suggestions:

• A cool bag for fudge, chocolate and anything cream-based — the boot of a car in July is unforgiving.
• Wet wipes for sticky hands, and a spare paper bag because the first one will get damp.
• A tin for rock, so it survives the journey home intact.
• Cash for the smaller kiosks, which often do not take cards.
• A bin bag for wrappers. British beaches have enough plastic already.

The best seaside eating is unhurried, a bit sticky, and shared. Buy the slab of fudge, take the long way round the harbour wall, and let the wind do the rest.