Before we start, I know you, yes you, the reader, are itching to jump me about my opinion on candy corn. If it’s good, if it’s bad, doesn’t matter—it’s just that divisive. But, since it’s that time of year, and our Halloween issue no less, it’s time for me to step up and defend my dear childhood friend, the candy corn. That’s right, I said it. I. Love. Candy corn. If you’re a hater reading this, I’ll try to change your mind the best I can, but I’m not doing this for you. I’m doing this for my fellow candy corn lovers who need some better representation. I see you.
Let’s journey back to my childhood, no not in a year that starts with a 19 for all of those “Jenna’s so old” accusations, but rather the 2000s. I would run from house to house in the streets of L.A., praying to dodge the occasional toothbrush and apple slices, as I aimed for the best treats on Halloween. I’m a big fan of most candy, to be honest, but nothing really beats the satisfaction of receiving a candy corn on Halloween. I loved them so much and would only be able to get them at this one time of year, so I would often savor each and every one of them throughout the rest of that year until October came around again. Other candy corn heads understand this pain. I actually do the same thing with Peppermint bark—I should really stop loving seasonal candies … Regardless, this tiny triangular morsel has a level of pure joy and excitement that comes from both its thematic holiday charm and its rarity. I admit, the rarity factor is now lost on the almost 22-year-old me who can buy them in bulk on Amazon; however, for a kid, it’s like striking gold. Can your Snickers bar be used as vampire fangs? I don’t think so.
When you finally decide to take your first bite, the flavor is just pure sweetness. There’s nothing too complex, no weird nuts to try and ignore or chalky aftertaste to accept, it’s just sugary goodness. I know that doesn’t sound like a strong argument, although there is a lot of bad candy out there, but it is important to recognize clear-cut, bare bones, brass tax, excellence. To be clear, I’m not saying that the candy corn is my favorite candy; that is not the premise of this piece, but I am saying they are tasty, and I don’t understand why people dislike them so adamantly. It’s sort of similar to the white chocolate phenomenon (which I also like), where if you might not enjoy the sugary taste, you should at least respect its place in the candy universe. There need to be sweet candies to balance the sour, chewy to balance the crunchy, etc. I don’t have to like the taste of Almond Joy to understand why it should be respected as part of a CVS variety pack. I don’t have to understand why people buy Twizzlers instead of Red Vines, which are clearly better, because I know we need to keep the licorice market competitive. The vitriol evoked by the sheer mention of candy corn around candy corn haters is unacceptable, plain and simple. You should be ashamed—who am I kidding, they didn’t even read this far.
Now that the candy corn haters are gone, let me tell you guys a little bit more about candy corn that I found out other candy corn lovers did not know. Yes, we’ve reached the educational portion of this article. Candy corn … is not just for Halloween anymore! I know, I was also baffled by this fact. It’s true, though! I’ve seen two other varieties that I encourage you to keep an eye out for. One, the Easter candy corn. These are usually the following three colors in varied order: green, pink and purple, with the classic white tip, of course. Now, I should warn you, sometimes these don’t taste quite right. They can be a little harder in structure, have much more bleed in design and often don’t have the full force sweetness of a typical candy corn. Two, Valentine’s candy corn. They are usually red and pink with a white tip. They are much closer in consistency to the typical candy corn and far better taste-wise than the Easter candy corn, but the original still has it beat. I think these dye colors that are far more distant from the actual color of corn seem to taint the flavor somehow, but that is just my conspiracy theory.
Speaking of conspiracy theories, I have a few candy corn theories to share, and since I said they are conspiracies, I won’t cite my sources (hehe). The name candy corn comes from the use of corn in the candy’s actual production, which, at the time, was typically given to chickens and livestock as a food source rather than being advertised for humans as a good-tasting food. Candy corn completely changed the game for this easy-to-harvest and economically friendly veggie, thus saving the American economy and lowering the cost of food for everyone, once using corn for more things became a trend. That’s right. The candy corn is a hero. Another theory I heard was that candy corn might have originally been intended for Christmas … I know, crazy. I think some of the hate for candy corn might be because they evolved into a Halloween treat, a pagan and dark arts supporting holiday in the eyes of Christmas lovers, and now Christmas enthusiasts have conspired to drive the reputation of candy corn into the mud because they feel scorned. Maybe the triangle is really representing a bit of a holiday love triangle in the candy corn’s past—they say the line between love and hate is quite thin after all.
Now that I’ve officially lost my mind in the candy corn rabbit hole, let me just bring us back to the one truth that connects all of us still reading this article: Candy corn is good; people just have bad taste. They are a sugary delight in a tiny fall package, and we should not allow the mob mentality of candy corn haters to deny us what we love! So go out there, enjoy your Halloween parties and shenanigans, and eat your candy corn with pride.
