I Paid: $1.99 for a 4.67-ounce box (prices may vary by region)
Green is the color of Andes Creme de Menthe Thins, and what a classic color it is: the color of money; the color of nature; the color of crisp, cooling mint mixed with thin, nonluxurious chocolate to create a passably tasty, quotidian postmeal bite. While there's nothing fancy about Andes mints, there's nothing embarrassing about them, either—among other things, they have their place at red-sauce Italian American restaurants and family diners, where they're familiar and welcoming.
Enter Andes Cherry Jubilee Thins. Bright, shocking red; the yin to the Creme de Menthe Thins' yang. Could they be the harmonious counterpoint, a smooth blend of fruit and chocolate that echoes yet diverges from its familiar green kin?
No. The Cherry Jubilee Thins are totally crappy. If you combined low-grade chocolate with cherry Robitussin, you would have a taste sensation equal to or better than the miserable, tinny, artificial-tasting filling that mars these misbegotten snacks. The candy's website talks up real bits of cherry that apparently line the interior of each small chocolate sandwich, but the overwhelming effect is cloying, a callback to Nerds or SweeTarts rather than orchards and pie. Even in the context of an admittedly lowbrow mint candy such as Andes, it is just too artificial-tasting. In short: Resist the urge to do Christmas colors with two kinds of Andes mints; stick to the old-fashioned green.