My taste buds may be changing, but a Bounty will never be on my menu

Britain’s taste buds appear to be in distress. Just a few weeks ago came the revelation that, after a lengthy reign as Britain’s favourite curry, the chicken tikka masala has been knocked off its poppadom perch by the even less demanding korma. And in recent days we’ve learned that mini-Bounty bars have been given the heave-ho from that regular Christmas treat, the Celebrations box.

According to Mars Wrigley, the jury is still out on whether to make the removal of the coconut sweetie permanent, so for Bounty hunters all may not be lost. But apparently, nearly 40 per cent of us hate the little blighters, and feel sufficiently challenged by their flavour that we feel terrible despair when there are only Bounties left to stir sadly around the bottom of the unforgiving red tub. Insofar as the selection box goes, therefore, it is surely just a matter of time before the mini-Bounty joins the Peanut Cracknell, the Montelimar Nougat and the Noisette Whirl on that great confectionary counter in the sky.

Maybe it’s a consequence of the cost of living crisis. A tikka-less korma is likely to be a tad less pricey than a tikka masala. And Celebrations customer want bang for their buck, not a handful of choccies that will still be knocking around on Twelfth Night.

But of course, tastes do change, irrespective of price. A survey in March found a range of traditional British faves were in danger of extinction because younger generations just don’t fancy them. Jellied eels, liver with onions, and spotted dick all face an uncertain future, competing as they do with global cuisine and health-conscious consumers.

Just as wider food fashions shift over time, so do our personal tastes. A couple of weeks ago I had a realisation that I’m now much more likely to be in the market for a piece of fruitcake than something sticky and chocolaty. This would not have been so a few years ago. Similarly, given the choice, I’d plump for marmalade over honey, brown bread over white.

None of this is the result of me trying to be healthy. Rather, my changing cuisine habits seem to be yet more signifiers of my gradual transformation into my parents – and eventually, I imagine, my grandparents. In short, I’m starting to eat like an older person.

It’s no biggie. In some ways, I feel more sophisticated chowing down things that in my younger years I would avoid like the plague. Mushrooms, for instance, were once anathema – largely because I had got it into my head that they probably had a similar texture to lightly boiled slug. But now they are a delight, especially eaten on toast while watching Antiques Roadshow on a Sunday evening.

Where do the changes end though? When, for instance, will I start to sprinkle half a grapefruit with brown sugar and pop it in the fridge the evening before I want it for breakfast, just as my grandparents once did? Will I eventually decide that hard butter is too much trouble and switch to margarine (I note my grandparents’ favourite brand, Krona, is another casualty of changing trends)?

The ultimate marker that I have finally stepped into old age will be the moment I stand in the sweet aisle and decide to buy a packet of Werther’s Originals. Back in the 1990s, when the caramels first hit the international market, my grandparents were early adopters, taken in by the marketing which was aimed squarely at old folk and their child relatives. On the table in their living room, a bowl would be perpetually topped up with those gold-wrapped lovelies. And I was happy enough to be tempted – but the idea of buying them myself seemed absurd; and for the time being still does. Then again, I did buy a packet of blackcurrant and liquorice sucky sweets for the car the other day, so I’m clearly well on my way down the slippery slope.

Some eating habits don’t and won’t change, however. When it comes to the Celebrations debate, my view remains as it has always been: a Bounty is not the taste of paradise; it’s the devil’s work. The sooner it’s consigned to eternal gastronomic damnation, the better.