Iced Raisin Bread
I don't care who made it, whether it be Pepperidge Farms, Hartford, or the local bakery, this stuff was good for only one thing:
Eating the icing and throwing the rest of the bag into the garbage.
Raisin bread is gross, but that icing was so damn good.
I was five or six years old and mom had bought a loaf of this crap. Being the pragmatic youngster that I was, I got into the bread drawer and removed the bag. I then proceeded to pick the top crust off of every single frosted slice of the stuff and ate it.
I then proceeded to carefully replace each and every slice back into the bag in the correct order that I had removed them. No one would be the wiser, it was the perfect crime.
One Week Later
The family ate the raisin bread for a week before somebody (probably my asshole sister) discovered that it was supposed to be frosted with icing. And I was quickly "told on."
Despite the total lack of evidence that the crime had been perpetrated by me, I was quickly convicted of the deed and the punishment hammer came down hard. I was spanked AND grounded. This sort of double whammy was only reserved the gravest of offences.