Kevin Wofsy: Project: Candy: Candies I have loved
I’ve always felt about candy the way a hamster feels about dried corn—you can never have too much of it stashed away for a rainy day. That’s why Halloween was always my favorite holiday when I was a kid. I’d gather as much candy as I could, eat a tiny amount, and then stockpile the rest in the drawers of my captain’s bed. (Only four drawers were used for this purpose. The fifth was taken up by my great-grandfather’s coin collection, and eventually, some J. Crew catalogs with hot guys in bathing suits.)
I don’t know why I felt compelled to save my candy year after year. Somehow, it seemed foolish to consume such a valuable pile of riches right away, when it could be hoarded. It was like stuffing money into a mattress, except my money had a rich caramel center and was delicious.
I wouldn’t want to give the impression that I was stingy. Quite the opposite was true. If a friend came over to play board games some Saturday in April, I was always happy to pull out some candy from the previous Halloween, or the one before that, or the one five years before that. Much like a sommelier, I could offer various vintages of Snickers, Smarties, or Good n’ Plentys. For some reason, most of my friends were more comfortable eating the candy that had been aged the least. Still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw the dustier treats away. There might be an earthquake. We might need it to survive. And besides, it’s not as if I kept the apples that do-gooder up the street always gave us. Saving old apples would’ve been crazy and gross. They got thrown away immediately, along with the raisins.
When I was 18, my family moved while I was away at college. My parents were surprised to find roughly 25 pounds of candy hidden in my bedroom, but all things considered, it was better than finding syringes. My mother ate a few of the most up-to-date Almond Joys and threw everything else into the trash.
Sometimes I think about my lost treasures and wonder if I’ll ever taste a really old piece of candy again. Then I remember there’s nothing you can’t find on ebay, and all is right with the world.
I don’t know why I felt compelled to save my candy year after year. Somehow, it seemed foolish to consume such a valuable pile of riches right away, when it could be hoarded. It was like stuffing money into a mattress, except my money had a rich caramel center and was delicious.
I wouldn’t want to give the impression that I was stingy. Quite the opposite was true. If a friend came over to play board games some Saturday in April, I was always happy to pull out some candy from the previous Halloween, or the one before that, or the one five years before that. Much like a sommelier, I could offer various vintages of Snickers, Smarties, or Good n’ Plentys. For some reason, most of my friends were more comfortable eating the candy that had been aged the least. Still, I couldn’t quite bring myself to throw the dustier treats away. There might be an earthquake. We might need it to survive. And besides, it’s not as if I kept the apples that do-gooder up the street always gave us. Saving old apples would’ve been crazy and gross. They got thrown away immediately, along with the raisins.
When I was 18, my family moved while I was away at college. My parents were surprised to find roughly 25 pounds of candy hidden in my bedroom, but all things considered, it was better than finding syringes. My mother ate a few of the most up-to-date Almond Joys and threw everything else into the trash.
Sometimes I think about my lost treasures and wonder if I’ll ever taste a really old piece of candy again. Then I remember there’s nothing you can’t find on ebay, and all is right with the world.
posted by creative gym at 11:16 PM
1 Comments:
There's some pretty aged candy at the corner liquor store across from me. (Great story, Kevin!)
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