Apple memory.

Contrary to popular belief, I do eat things that have no sugar in them. Although I confess you would not know this from the entries in this blog. What can I say, sugar is interesting.

One of things about stuff with sugar is how much we craved it as children. It makes sugary treats a great cause for nostalgia, especially when candies that lay hidden in memory all year make a sudden return at Halloween. Mary Janes! Oh, wow! Look out, bridgework, here it comes!

Another such autumnal treat is the humble candy apple. But it's gotten very hard to find.

Caramel apples are all over. You can get plenty of Kraft caramels at the grocery store and melt them down; you just need to find tongue depressors. There are even outfits that mail-deliver caramel and chocolate apples so laden with nuts and snacks and crap that you figure they might forget the apple and no one would notice. But those hard, red candy apples, perfect McIntoshes with a sweet, brittle candy shell, are difficult to find these days. In fact, my wife and I tried a couple of pre-made "candy apples" that were all wrong -- they had a somewhat similar flavor, but the coating was gooey, with the consistency of a caramel wrap. The candy part of the candy apple actually has a subtle flavor, and if the texture is wrong it ruins the effect.

Fortunately, Concord Foods is still in the game, with the Candy Apple Kit.

Unfortunately, none of my local stores bother with it anymore, although they will carry Concord's Caramel Apple Kit and other seasonal delights like Apple Crisp and Banana Bread Mix. I had to order this online.

I have a candy thermometer and I don't know why. Must have tried making some Christmas confection years ago. The fact that I don't remember what tells you how well it went over. But it's good that I have it, because you have to cook the flavoring in the kit with sugar and water to 150°C (302°F) to get it to that hard crack stage. This takes longer than you think it will, if, like me, you don't do this kind of thing much. Then you take your nice clean apples with the provided sticks and dip them. Do not just roll them around in the syrup. That would be silly and probably dangerous. And then, ta-da!

They were just right -- that delightful fake red candy sheen over the perfect apple. One bite -- and it takes a few tries to breach the wall of candy glass -- and you get that mix of candy and apple that's crunchy and bright. My wife recalls the candy apple as having a more cinnamony flavor than these, though, which would be fixed easily by adding a little cinnamon to the candy cauldron. For me, it was a successful schlep down memory lane.

My teeth may object, but the candy apple was a favorite of my childhood, and I was happy to have a chance to remember how good they are. Most of what you eat is the apple, anyway, so I'm glad I waited for fall to get the peak McIntoshes. However, for those concerned about the sugar, I calculate that each apple is covered by almost four tablespoons of sugar! And that doesn't include the apple's own natural sugars. So, to paraphrase the modern less-fun Cookie Monster, a candy apple is a sometime food. (Poor neutered Cookie Monster.)

I don't know if a candy apple is part of your childhood memories of the Halloween season, but it was of mine, and I was glad to get another bite at the apple, so to speak.  Now I have to give away eight candy apples....