Crunchie

“Crunchie?” said Velvet, her face lighting. “I got them this morning.” “On tick still?” “Yes. She was cross but I swore we'd pay by Saturday.” In the gold paper was a chocolate stick. Beneath the chocolate was a sort of honeycomb, crisp and friable, something between biscuit and burnt sugar. Fry's chocolate crunchie.

A different method and a different flavour from the usual brown crunchie. The recipe is easily doubled for a larger batch.

To the subjective mind of the combat crunchie and cannon cocker, executing with his legs, sweat, and often his life, the grand designs […]

[…]the tyranny of the rockspiders, crunchies, hairybacks, ropes, and bloody Dutchmen. Those were the names by which we referred to Afrikaners.