Tag Archives: candy corn

31 Days of Junk: Brach’s Vampire Teeth (#27)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

This is the fifth candy corn related item I’ve eaten this month, and it will also be the last. It also happens to be pretty dang tasty!

These red-tipped “Vampire Teeth” are strawberry flavored-candy corn. Now, the sound of that doesn’t appeal me—perhaps its the OG candy corn’s yellow-orange-white color scheme that seems to stand at odds with a fruity berry flavor. But dammit, it works.

Really, the fondant flavor of the candy corn (the base flavor profile for all candy corns) mixed with the strawberry creates a kind-of strawberry shortcake flavor that is super yummy. Another thing I appreciate about this particular candy corn is that the flavor isn’t overpowering like original candy corn. The flavor here is subtle and floral, making it easy to jam them into your maw, one after another.

If the idea of candy corn appeals to you but you could never get into the taste, I think these would be a great alternative.

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31 Days of Junk: Brach’s Smore’s Candy Corn (#21)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Another day, another candy corn type of goodie. Only this time, it’s not a random treat trying to imitate candy corn, it’s candy corn trying to imitate a random treat. To be specific: a s’more.

S’mores are American as apple pie, but they taste better and are way more fun to make. They’re truly one of the greatest junk foods ever to be assembled. Which is why whenever a company releases a s’more-inspired snack, I’m ever so eager to try them.

I’ve had s’more Oreos (why didn’t you call them S’mOreos, you idiots?) and enjoyed ’em. I’ve had Ben & Jerry’s s’more ice cream. I’ve had both name brand and generic versions of s’more cereal, both equally delicious. But each of these takes on the classic campfire treat had the vital components to make it work: namely, graham cracker crunch (in some form or another), actual marshmallow, and real chocolate. This is why these various iterations work so well.

But can a s’more-flavored candy corn pull it off? These ones from Brach’s do a pretty decent job of it.

Again, they lack the full-bodied, all-encompassing experience that goes along with eating an actual s’more (or any s’more adjacent treat involving the same ingredients), but what they lack in varied textures they make up for in size. These suckers are huge! Far bigger than your average candy corn. The picture doesn’t do them justice. They’re like arrowheads. Or teeth from a Sarcosuchus.

The main flavor here is marshmallow. A bit of cocoa, too. But I didn’t notice much graham cracker taste. If I closed my eyes and ate one of these and you told me it was a hot chocolate-flavored candy corn, I’d have believed you.

I tried biting them down the line, color by color, to see if the different colors, in fact, faithfully represented the flavor they were supposed to—but I didn’t notice any variation.

While these certainly won’t replace the s’more, they’re good in a pinch.

31 Days of Junk: Jelly Belly Candy Corn (#19)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

I didn’t realize this, but one of Jelly Belly’s original confections was candy corn and other mellowcreme treats. In fact, they were the primary confections before Jelly Belly started making jelly beans. Crazy, right?

The company, started in 1869, was originally called “Gustav Goelitz”, named after the man who started the company. It wasn’t until 1960 that the company started making jelly beans, and it would be another 16 years before they came up with the name “Jelly Belly”.

With that bit of history out of the way, it made me wonder: considering its history, would that mean Jelly Belly makes the best candy corn? Better than Brach’s?

After eating a few of Jelly Belly’s take on the tri-colored fall treat, I can say definitively, without a doubt: I don’t know!

They’re much smaller than Brach’s, that’s for sure. And they seem more nicely made: glossier and more of an effort to make the candy look like actual corn. (Notice the ridging on each piece.) The texture and flavor are also a bit different. These are chewier and have a softer candy corn flavor, versus other brands I’ve eaten which overwhelm my mouth with cloying sweetness after just a few pieces.

Would I be able to tell them apart from other brands in a blind taste test? Probably not. They taste like candy corn; I guess that’s all that matters.

 

31 Days of Junk: Candy Corn-Flavored Pez (#15)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Vern Tessio was onto something when he said, “If I could only have one food for the rest of my life? That’s easy: Pez. Cherry-flavored Pez. No question about it.” I share his opinion on the brick-shaped candies. Pez would definitely be a desert island snack for me.

What’s not to love? They’re tiny, they’re tangy, they’re tasty. Indeed, they taste like the flavors they purport to be, and they’re totally fun to eat! A candy dispenser—a different candy dispenser—with each purchase of Pez? Are you kidding? That’s like the perfect candy scenario for a kid. A dream come true.

Plus, to me, it always felt like I was eating an actual toy, like a Lego, and that stroked those innate, forbidden feelings that children have deep down—of wanting to eat a toy, but not have it do any major damage to your internal organs. Such a satisfying feeling.

If I had my pick, I’d say I’m a lemon Pez kinda guy, which is interesting as lemon is usually my last choice for candies that come in various flavors (Warheads, Sour Patch Kids, Mike and Ike, Skittles, et. al.). It just goes to show you the power of Pez. But really, all flavors of Pez are great, and I would take any one of them, any time.

The Candy Corn Pez have a strong maple scent right out of the package. Butterscotch, maybe. Definitely buttery. Waffles and syrup? Candy corn is buttery, for sure, but it has almost a marshmallow smell out of the bag.

Flavor-wise, they do a decent job of replicating the taste of candy corn, while still maintaining that signature Pez “tang”. Mostly maple, but again, heavy butter flavor, too. If you close your eyes and imagine candy corn, they do the trick. They also taste like another candy I’ve eaten before, but I cannot figure out what it is for the life of me. It’s driving me nuts! It’s particularly noticeable when I toss more than a couple Pez in the ol’ maw at one time (which is every time).

When Halloween rolls around when I’m stuck on my desert island, I’ll break out the Candy Corn Pez, for sure.

31 Days of Junk: Brach’s Mellowcreme Pumpkins (#14)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

To me, the Mellowcreme® Pumpkin may be the quintessential Halloween candy. I’ll go as far as to say it’s even more iconic than *gasp* candy corn. I’ve always considered candy corn to be a blanket fall confection—covering Halloween and Thanksgiving. But these little stubby pumps, thems all Halloween, baby.

The funny thing is: they taste exactly like candy corn. Perhaps a bit more buttery, but almost no other difference whatsoever. The two candies are made using an identical process, but the pumpkins have the honor of being distinguished as “Mellowcreme”—a term reflecting the candy’s mellow, creamy texture.

I wouldn’t describe these pumpkins (or candy corn for that matter) as mellow or creamy, necessarily. “Breathtakingly sugary” and “I can only eat about 5 before my mouth files a restraining order against me” are descriptors that come to mind before “mellow” or “creamy”.

The Mellowcreme family has extended to two offshoots: the Halloween-specific “Scary Shapes“, and the less creatively-named “Assorted Mix” (not to be confused with the totally different “Autumn Mix“). I’ve found that the flavors of the shapes from those mixes—such as banana and chocolate—actually taste like they’re supposed to. Those chocolate Mellowcremes happen to be some of my favorite fall candies.

These little pumpkins also happen to be hugely important to not only to other Halloween candies but to the holiday itself. Check out this blurb of info from Wikipedia:

As of 1988, most big confectionery companies, including Mars Inc., did not market special Halloween candies. The one exception was Brach’s Confections, which made candy pumpkins among other seasonal products. In 1992, Brach’s Confections expected to sell more than 30 million pounds of mellowcreme candy during the fall season, which included its seasonal mellowcreme pumpkins.

By the late 1990s, competitors of Brach’s realized that the market for the special Halloween candy pumpkin was expanding. For example, in 1997, candy pumpkins and other mellowcreme candies helped push annual spending on Halloween candy in the United States to an estimated $950 million a year. In response, Mars, Inc. came out with Snickers Creme Pumpkin in 1998. Two years later, Frankford Candy & Chocolate Company cross-licensed with ConAgra Foods to produce Peter Pan Peanut Butter Pumpkins. Also in 2000, Zachary Confections expanded its product line to include candy pumpkins.

In addition to helping characterize Halloween, candy pumpkins played a role in the current U.S. implementation of daylight saving time. Since the 1960s, candy makers had wanted to get the trick-or-treat period covered by Daylight Saving, reasoning that if children have an extra hour of daylight, they would collect more candy. During the 1985 U.S Congressional hearings on Daylight Saving, the industry went so far as to put candy pumpkins on the seat of every senator, hoping to win a little favor. In 2005, daylight saving time was extended to the first Sunday in November—just long enough to include Halloween.

How wild is that?! The candy pumpkin inspired other candy companies to start making Halloween-themed treats for October and they were used to sway Members of Congress!

Candy corn, a Halloween treat? Don’t insult the Mellowcreme® Pumpkins.

31 Days of Junk: Trader Joe’s Candy Corn Popcorn (#9)

Last October (2017), I made it a goal to drink 31 different beers—a new one each day—by the end of the month. Incredibly, I was successful in my attempt, which I dubbed #31FallBeers (look it up on any form of social media!) This year, I wanted to try something similar, but there were two important changes I needed to make. Firstly, I wanted to be able to expound more, so I decided against social media blurbs in favor of long-form posts on my site. Second: it needed to be much, much cheaper than drinking 31 different beers. The result? #31DaysOfJunk. Strap in and hold on tight, and please enjoy this month-long odyssey into the sugary, fatty belly of the autumnal beast.

Quick: what does candy corn taste like? Tastes like…candy corn, right?

To me, candy corn isn’t a flavor but an experience. What candy corn is supposed to taste like is secondary to the actual act of eating the candy corn.

The semi-gloss surface giving way to a soft, waxy body with each tiny bite–starting with the white tip, or perhaps from the other end. Or by the palmful, letting the little triangular pieces sit in your mouth, your tongue examining the smoothness of each side, over and over.

Candy corn is seasonal, so just seeing them–before you even eat them–can illicit feelings of fall. Images of grey afternoons and wet sidewalks, red and yellow leaves, comfy sweaters and gathered family, all are conjured up just by looking at the little tri-colored candies.

Or how a freshly opened bag simply smells of confection, sweet and soft, unspecific–but somehow specific to candy corn.

So to say something is “candy corn-flavored” is to take away the aspects of what makes candy corn candy corn. Because really, candy corn doesn’t have a unique flavor. Jelly Belly has said that the flavor is “a blend of creamy fondant, rich marshmallow and warm vanilla notes”. So essentially, birthday cake. Candy corn tastes like birthday cake.

And it’s true: Trader Joe’s Candy Corn Popcorn tastes exactly like yummy, buttery birthday cake. The colored corn helps sell the idea, but ultimately, nothing can replicate the experience of eating actual candy corn.

Still, the popcorn is delicious, and this little bag didn’t stand a chance. If you like kettle corn, or caramel corn, or any sort of shellacked popped corn, you will love this.