I have to admit that this entry has taken me for a spin. For a long time now, I've been wanting to write about how Circus Peanuts are a complete affront to anything that anyone who has ever liked candy has liked. The problem is that Circus Peanuts are such a part of our lexicon that it's not really worth writing about. For example, someone might come to you and say "I had the most awful dining experience last night..." To which, you might respond: "Did they serve Circus peanuts?" And the party of the first part would laugh and say it wasn't that bad and suddenly their almost fatal case of food poisoning almost seems trivial.
Sure, it's something we can all relate to, but it's not terribly interesting. Anyhow, fast forward to this year's Easter candy aisle at your local grocery store and our story begins. Bear and I were in the midst of our weekly grocery shopping when we spotted a creation from Brach's that made me stop drop and roll.
Chicks and Rabbits, what a lovely motif for a holiday treat. I know that you know where this is going, and you probably know that I know that you know. But that's not the point here. The point is that there are children across the nation that don't know.
I don't remember the first time I tried a Circus Peanut, but I do distinctly remember the time a kind old lady offered me a piece of candy and then produced Circus Peanuts from her purse. I was completely incensed. You promised me candy and you offer me this?! Were it a Joe Pesci moment, it would have turned out differently.
But it's time to include a picture, so for those of you who aren't familiar with Circus Peanuts, they look like this:
And they taste like a combination of one part corn syrup, one part cheap wine, and one part chalk. I don't have a very sophisticated palate, but that is really the closest I can come to giving you an accurate description.
In preparing this post, I purchased a bag of Circus Peanuts. Keeping a skeptical frame of reference, I thought: "You know, it's been a long time since you tried one of these. Maybe it's like wine or sushi; something you have to grow into." It's not. The moment I opened the package, the smell hit me and I suddenly had total recall over every Circus Peanut experience I've ever had.
Circus peanuts are so bad that when you visit the Spangler web page about Circus Peanuts, they simply give you a recipe for what to do with them. Eating them isn't mentioned anywhere.
And just in case you managed to make it this far and not know what Circus Peanuts are, they are candies that are made out of marshmallow and supposedly flavored like bananas. I ate several today and can't confirm the banana flavoring (see above), nor can I really say they taste like marshmallow. It's more of a acid burning sensation. But they've been making them since the turn of the last century, so it's pretty much americana at it's finest.
Anyhow, Brach's candy company, one the largest producers of Circus Peanuts, decided that it would really be a hoot if they repackaged Circus Peanuts as Easter candy. Behold, Chicks and Rabbits:
They look like chicks, they look like rabbits, but kids everywhere are about to discover that it's all Circus Peanut. I don't know anything about the people behind Brach's, but I do know that anyone who willingly markets pastel Circus Peanuts as an acceptable confection to celebrate the resurrection of Christ (i.e., Jesus) is obviously in league with the other side (i.e., el diablo).
What other reason could there possibly be? Circus Peanuts dyed pastel yellow and blue and shaped like bunnies and baby chicks? Jesus may yet return like a thief in the night, but to quote the Nation of Ulysses:
"The road to hell is paved with chocolate treats, and candy corn is sown at the side of the streets."
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