Gummi skewers!

There’s a whole ‘nother layer of ‘em underneath. Sweet nectar!

Swedish Fish from Orient Point, Long Island. I’m eating these while watching True Grit (1969). Mattie Ross would not approve.

Thank you, cousin!

Sour, chewy candies. Why are they called “Oh! Nuts?” Don’t know. Don’t care. Taste gooooood, behbeh.

Sometimes you see a word you don’t know, but, because you feel like you can piece together a rough meaning from its parts, you don’t bother to look it up. “Horehound” was one of those words for me. I was introduced to it when that third Jack White band, The Dead Weather, released its 2009 debut album, “Horehound.” 

As is the case with most supergroup projects, the music never quite lives up to the sum of the performers. It’s certainly cool to see the band’s biggest star, Jack White, play the wrong instrument. And front woman Allison Mosshart really does have a provocative look and personality. But the most interesting thing about that album to me is the title. “Horehound” isn’t an everyday type of word, so at the time of the album’s release, i assumed they were referring to some type of dog i’d never heard of. This is, of course, because i am an idiot who doesn’t bother to check his facts.

Actually, horehound is a couple of different plants. One of these, Marrubium vulgare, is used to make lozenges which, according to Wikipedia, are supposed to soothe sore throats. My throat is not currently sore, so i can’t speak to that property. But i can tell you that Pennsylvania Dutch Candies’ Horehound Sanded Candy Drops taste pretty good. Almost like root beer, but earthier. They taste sort of planty and medicinal, but i mean that in the best possible way. They make me think of an old, saloon-style general store or pharmacy. There’s a quartet of gentlemen outside in red and white striped shirts and boater hats singing lively tunes. The man behind the counter sells remedies and cures to the adults and candy and soda to the kids. Nothing costs more than a dime. It’s an innocent place. A post-church Sunday stop.

Can’t you imagine a big glass jar full of horehound drops sitting on a big wooden counter next to other big glass jars of peppermints and butterscotches? 

I mean, dangit! These things look all rustical, don’t they? Apothecary magic if i’ve ever seen it! APOTHECARY MAGIC!

Me and cousin Molly holding the custom Brian Eats Candy sign she made. Also, she got me a bag full of gourmet chocolates - best secret santa EVER!

This was the tenth result when i googled my own blog. Did you know? Norman Bates eats candy corn!

Grandma always has choice candy for Thankygiving. Have a happy one!

This is going to be a short review, for - and i’m sure you’ll understand - the love of my life is waiting for me. And i dare not keep her waiting too long.

Her name? 

Mini.

Reese’s Mini(s).

I am a big proponent of Reese’s products. There’s something about their combination of chocolate and peanut butter that really lights my fire, floats my boat, and/or tickles my fancy. When friends ask me to describe my ideal woman, i typically come up with “cup shaped, chocolatey, and filled with peanut butter.” Of course, i don’t usually SAY anything like that - i don’t want people thinking i’m crazy. But the truth is i AM crazy. Crazy in love. With Reese’s Minis. 

It feels so right. Reese’s Cups are already exceptional. But Reese’s Minis are exceptionally exceptional. It’s something about the surface area, or the chocolate to peanut butter ratio. I don’t know what it is, but i know they drive me crazy. They keep me up at night. I get jealous when i see other people with Reese’s Minis, because i know how incredible it feels to even be with them. I want them all to myself. I want them to love no one but me. I don’t feel alive without them. I just… need them. 

I should probably get out more.