Day 69: Ode to Candy Corn

 

 

 

I am a Candy Corn aficionado.  I blame my mother, much for the same reason I blame her for my love of Little Debbie's Oatmeal Creme Pies, or every other bite of comfort food that I have eaten in my lifetime. 

 

 

 

 

The woman was good at comfort food.  She could console just about any discomfort in life with something hot, greasy, sweet or fattening and make you believe that everything in life would be great from that point forward. 

It's a rare talent that woman has.

I almost want to call her right now and tell her to bring me a big ole picnic ham with some homemade potato salad.

But I digress.

This post is about my love for Candy Corn.

I have a friend, a new friend really, who shares my mad obsession with the corn.  And what I love about her is that she understands there are rules when it comes to candy corn.  You don't just go buying any brand, or any color, at any time of the year.

You wait until the fall.  And then you only buy Brach's.  If you buy another brand, you'll be sorry, and you'll end up being one of those dumb people that says things like, "I don't like candy corn."

Next, you give it the "squish" test in the store, through the bag.  (If it doesn't squish, you don't buy it.)

Then, and only then, do you buy it and eat it,

all,

in one sitting. 

This is guaranteed to make you sick of candy corn for at least two weeks, maybe longer if you're lucky, or a lightweight.  (This is an important step, because if you don't get sick of it right away, you're going to munch on it for the two months that it is available.)

Also, if you're a purist, you will only get the yellow, orange and white, because that's the only real candy corn.  Everything else is a poser.  A wanna be.  Don't be fooled.  You'll be disappointed.

And lastly, and this is really important, you must eat it in order.  I like to start at the bottom, eating the yellow layer first. Then the orange. Then the white.  I don't know why this matters, but it does.  (That could be my OCD, but I don't know for sure.)

My husband is aware of this obsession I have for candy corn.  He frowns upon it.  This has forced me to buy it and eat it in my car.  You just got a visual, didn't you?  It's sad, I know. 

Today, as I was loading the girls in the backseat of the car, I found a piece of an empty candy corn bag, most likely ripped off and tossed aside during an eating frenzy.  My heart raced at the sight of it, and I had two thoughts:

1.  Oh my gosh!  I hope no one saw that.
2.  How quickly can I unload these kids and go score a bag . . .  er, I mean, buy some?

It's not pretty.  I know.

All that to say, Candy Corn, I love you.  You're my guilty pleasure.