I’ve said it before (apparently at thesis length, and danged if I shouldn’t actually charge for that eBook download because you folks are getting Actual Value out of those posts, whether you realize it or not), but it’s that time of the year so I’m gonna say it again: the late-October Candy Hierarchy is only skewed way out of alignment by the application of your mature, sophisticated, grown-up “acquired” tastes. Lindt Truffles? Toblerones? Dark Chocolate? What first-grader would open any of those before the Butterfingers, the Milk Duds, or even the SweeTarts?
Look, I figure if you still possess the savoir faire to pull a perforated bedsheet over your head and ring doorbells for candy handouts every year, even at your advanced age, then yes, I’ll grudgingly admit you have a dog in this fight, and maybe your opinion should count. But come now. Real trick-or-treaters don’t covet Vicodin (though a splash of Dimetapp would be appreciated, and smoothly washes down even the orangest Pixy Stix powder with minimal aftertaste), nor do any of them born in this century (or the latter half of the last) plot to infiltrate great-grandpa’s Black Lickrish stash and make off with the arguably masticable chunks of asphalt to be found therein.
The Hierarchy, it must be said, has shown marked improvement in the last couple of years. Most of the things near the top are good, and most of the awful things are near the bottom, and most importantly, a random trick-or-treater yanked briefly off the street would concur, before asking if he can step back out of the van and find his mom again before she hollers for the Neighborhood Watch. There are those who wonder about the significance of the Medulla Oblongata Tier, whose newly-discovered presence makes its debut on this year’s chart. “Makes no sense”? Mesdames and sirs, this is a long-overdue nod to tradition. Some people don’t like those black-and-orange-wrapped peanut-butter-flavored taffy Mary Janes, and sure, some people are blind, deaf, and insensible to the autumnal symphony of sensation that is the Candy Corn (and the similarly buttery but heavily dyed candy pumpkin and related candies). But think back, my friends, to the magical days of your ill-spent youth. If the timing of this Hierarchy means anything to you, then Halloween was one of the most highly-anticipated days on your calendar, rivaling birthdays and Christmas and Hanukkah, surpassing New Year’s Day and The Last Day of School, and utterly beating the shit out of Easter, the Fourth of July, Guy Fawkes Day, and Opening Day at Cajon Speedway (your local enthusiasm levels may vary). Biting into a Snickers bar doesn’t evoke anything more profound than “Mmmmm… chocolatey nougaty caramelly peanutty yummmm,” which honestly is profound enough for any given eight-year-old, but isn’t particularly seasonal. It could be any random Saturday afternoon.
But the right brand of candy corn is different. Yes, there are wrong brands. But you take a kid, cover her eyes, and have her bite into a piece or two of candy corn, and whether it’s tonight or last April, she’s gonna start thinking “Halloween” and her salivary glands will kick into overdrive and she’ll start coveting every other sweet thing that ever fell into her pillowcase or plastic jack-o-lantern over the last five years. It’s a gateway candy, one that so completely embodies the spirit of the last night of October that you really can’t escape it in your trick-or-treat bag, though you actually have to hunt it down the rest of the year.
Mary Janes also fill this niche for my generation. You never saw them any other time of year, so when you did see them, you automatically thought “Halloween.” Even if you found one fossilized under your bed during Spring Cleaning, you wouldn’t necessarily be tempted to eat it. But your thought process would still go like so: “Wow. This must be… from last Halloween! Ahhh. Halloween. That was a fun time last October. There was a full moon. Janey ate too many Good 'N Plentys and ralphed on some Ninja Turtle. Man, I could really go for some candy corn right now… though, this being April, I’d settle for some Nerds.”
And so it is that I believe Messrs. Cohen & Ng have done well with this tier. It is entirely appropriate and long-overdue. And if any of you get some unwanted MJs or Candy Corn in your hauls this year, send 'em my way. I’ll give 'em a good home. Nom.
And now, on to the abject failures. Mounds and Almond Joy belong in the same category, so that part’s done right. I can’t stand either of them, but that’s okay, since I acknowledge that some weird kids do actually eat them. Said kids would probably rather read Gold Key or Harvey Comics rather than DC or Marvel, but hey, somebody’s gotta drink the RC Cola too, right? We can’t all be clones.
But I have stocked more candy drawers than would be good for anyone, and I know the brands that get left for last. Not in the sense of “leaving the best for last,” but in the sense of “I’d rather eat everything else in this drawer before that craptastic old Mounds bar in the corner. It doesn’t even got nuts.” The very idea that any kid, no matter how sophisticated and pretentious, would rank Lollipops, Nerds, Gummi anythings, bubble gum, Laffy Taffy, or even the less-popular but still completely edible Bottle Caps and Circus Peanuts, down in the Bottom Tier with the likes of Black Lickrish, Good 'N Plenty (which is just a heavy dose of Black Lickrish prescribed in slightly-more-swallowable caplet form), chalk, ribbon candy, white bread, and trading-card gum is beyond laughable. Kids like Gummi Bears, and Gummi Worms are even better. The kids seem to prefer the Sour varieties of Gummis, which I at least would toss down in the Not-Registering heap with the pencils and raisins, but remember: this ain’t about us. A kid that scores a bag of Gummis (sour or otherwise) is statistically happier than the kid who scores an Almond Joy(less), and every last one of you who has been in the same room as a kid in the last ten years knows it.
And come now. Stale Tootsie Rolls are ranked on the same level as even fresh Milk Duds? And higher than Gummi Bears? Y’all smoke crack.
I do wonder about some omissions. I’m not worried about @technogeekagain’s beloved NECCO. TGA thought that factory made candy, but machinists worldwide recognize that NECCO wafers are just low-quality shims and washer-blanks. (The color-coding refers to hardness rather than any discernible difference in flavor.)
I lobby for the inclusion of Abba Zaba (particularly after warming it in your back pocket so it doesn’t extract your fillings upon the first bite). Those were especially coveted in my day, and they’re still to be found on the bottom shelf of the candy aisle at your corner 7-Eleven. Yummy.
@miasm, if I find those grape Mentos before you do, we’re gonna have to fight over 'em!
@Tavie, if anything, Baby Ruth should go higher than Snickers. They are very different experiences. I like the Baby Ruth much more, but the Snickers is a smoother, more civilized bar, leaving far fewer chunks of chocolate and whole peanut tumbling down the front of your shirt.
As for you, @welcomeabored, whyIoughta! Maybe it’s time for me to send you another load of that Depression-era vulcanizing compound you licorice-eaters call candy. And my sister’s whole family still calls me Donnie. In fact, two of my sisters, both of their husbands, and all their assorted kids (and by now grandkids) call me Donnie. Other than them, nobody’s called me that since the 70s. But that’s okay. Go ahead and laff. I got all of ya to read to the very end of this long-ass dissertation. Ha! Joke’s on you guys!
And it’s “Mister Petersen” to all of you!
