I Tried 'Thanksgiving Dinner' Candy Corn — Here Are My Thoughts

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Courtesy of Katie Bingham-Smith

Every fall I put a bowl of candy corn on my island in a pretty little container and it lasts all of three seconds.

I love biting into those candy pumpkins too. They have a plastic, yet meaty texture and when the corn syrup coats the inside of my mouth after mixing with my saliva, I’m a goner and simply cannot stop.

I love candy corn in hot tea or coffee. Oh, and mixed with salty peanuts which brings your tongue to perfect bliss. When they are on top of frosting on a cupcake and get even softer, I’m in heaven. If you are the type who picks candy corn off of your cake or cupcake, you are in the wrong. But I’ll allow it because it means I can eat them.

Candy corn gives me the perfect sugar high and as soon as it hits the shelf I buy it in large quantities.

There’s no need to wait. The season is short so pack it in, fuckers.

Courtesy of Katie Bingham-Smith

So naturally, when the Thanksgiving dinner candy corn recently hit the shelves, I had to try it. Everyone who knows me in real life knows I love autumn and all things candy corn so I was alerted by many of my loved ones.

I love candy corn and I love Thanksgiving dinner but I’m here to tell you, the two never should have mated.

Sorry, Brach’s.

I actually had to call and reserve my bag of corn because it’s flying off the shelves.

Is this because of COVID-19 and people are looking for something to do? Are they just curious? Perhaps they are into playing dirty tricks on each other?

All I know is, while my son and I were trying the green bean flavored candy he cried out,”Why? Why did they do this?” as I ran to the bathroom to spit up my half-chewed green candy in the toilet where it belongs. It tasted like old Tupperware and sadness.

But once you put your taste buds through that kind of misery you have to go in for more, ya know what I’m sayin’? Curiosity killed the cat. Or should I say all sense of reason, because if you are going to put candy called “Roasted Turkey” or “Stuffing” in your mouth, you are kind of an asshole and deserve whatever that shit will do to you.

I don’t know what I was expecting, but as soon as I tasted the brown candy that was supposed to emulate stuffing, my son said my face did things he’d never seen before. And for the record, he threw up in my mouth once when I was bent over looking down his throat to see if it was red because he told me it felt like he was swallowing glass. This reaction was worse.


I couldn’t get it out of my mouth fast enough but I wasn’t done. I’d committed to trying every piece of this candy even if it made me dry heave for the rest of my life at the thought of it (mission accomplished) so I decided to get the bird candy out of the way and really, it tasted just like what I assume ear wax tastes like — and I hated my life.

There wasn’t any amount of water or alcohol that could get that taste out of my mouth.

The cranberry sauce-flavored candy was the least offensive, but I’m being generous. Like, it didn’t make me full-on gag, but there was a slight jarring back and forth motion even though the bite I took was the size of a pinhead.

At this point, the smell of the open bag was enough to get me to want to leave the room. It was all I could taste, all I could smell, and I knew it was going to haunt my dreams.

If you ever want to make yourself throw up after a night of too many margaritas, I can’t recommend eating this enough.

My son and I decided we had to try the “Ginger Glazed Carrot” and the “Sweet Potato Pie” because we aren’t quitters.

We were in this together and if we were going to go down with our heads in the toilet, we weren’t going to go down alone, dammit.

In all honesty, we couldn’t figure out which one was the carrot-flavored bile (I mean candy), and which was the sweet potato pie — they were both the same color — but our taste buds were begging for mercy at that point so we didn’t punish them any longer.

It wasn’t that important to figure it out but it was important to wash our mouths out with something, anything, other than this weird-ass flavored crap.

Even now, when I think about the smell it takes me to a dark place I don’t want to go.

I love you candy corn, I do. And I realize 2020 has been a shitty year so why not come up with a candy that is going to make people feel like if they don’t get it, they really aren’t punishing themselves enough this year.

It’s a great trick to play on a candy corn lover, someone you want to seek revenge on. Offer them some and tell them only a large handful will do — and watch their face. Maybe snap an unflattering picture or two to keep for your records in case you need to bribe them.

I’m still going to be enjoying the very normal, tasty variety of candy corn until my mouth is swollen and my teeth feel like they are wearing sweaters, but I’m going to retire my adventurous taste buds and not do anything like this ever again.

But don’t let me stop you if you have your heart set on it. You totally should if you want an evening of pain and suffering.

My recommendation is to find a taste-test buddy and keep something like a rustic-cut potato chip nearby because that’s the only thing that will sand the taste out of this candy corn out of your mouth.

Good luck to ya.

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