Bewitched

     I’ve figured out why Halloween candy goes on sale so many weeks in advance. The marketing wizards know that once we buy it and get it home, we’ll consume half of it before the kids ever show up, thus insuring a return trip to buy even more.

That’s what’s happening in my house. And I claim not to have a sweet tooth.

Most of the time, chocolate candy can sit in a bowl until it turns white. It’s not that I don’t like it, but I don’t crave it. My unstoppable urges tend toward the salty/sour/greasy. If trick-or-treaters demanded bags of vinegar potato chips, they’d have to wrestle me for them.

And I doubt they would stand a chance. Those kids are small. I could take most of them with one arm behind my back (which is where it would be, clutching that bag of chips).

Fortunately for them, the kids in my neighborhood prefer candy, so I’m happy to oblige. Every year I go out and buy bags and bags of it, secure in the knowledge that it holds no appeal for me.

I empty it all into a bowl, eagerly awaiting the hungry hordes. And it sits there untouched.

For maybe a day.

There’s something about Halloween candy. The bright orange packaging on those peanut butter cups keeps catching my eye. Snickers and Milky Way bars call up memories of my own trick-or-treating days, when they were my favorites.

In fact, everything in the bowl is an old favorite. I won’t give out anything I don’t like. I remember all too well the disappointment of pouring out my pillowcase full of swag, only to find that it was bulked up with healthy miniature boxes of raisins, fruit-flavored hard candies and Tootsie Roll pops. Ugh.

And apples! I think the old razorblade-in-the-apple scare of past decades, that caused the ban on fruit as a handout, was probably a scam started by a kid who was tired of lugging them around in his bag, knowing full well he was going to dump them on Mom as soon as he got home.

But I digress. Intentionally. And I may digress again. Because I am trying desperately to keep my mind off that huge bowl of candy in the next room. Everything I wanted as a kid, sitting there, within easy reach. I don’t even have to put on a costume and go begging. I just need to get up and walk 10 feet. It’s calling out so loudly I’m surprised the neighbors haven’t complained.

I stashed it in a corner, but that just drew my attention to the dust there. When I returned with the vacuum cleaner, I naturally rewarded my housekeeping virtue with a miniature Butterfingers.

Then I tried hiding the bowl inside a cabinet. That worked until I forgot it was there, opened the door and candies rained down on my head. I solaced myself with a snack-sized Hersey bar as I picked them up.

I put it under the bed: The faint whiff of chocolate gave me insomnia until I gave in and had a late-night package of M and Ms..

Under a chair? The cats thought the KitKat bar was their new toy. Hey, the wrapper was torn – I had to eat it.

I’m out of hiding places, so the bowl is back in plain sight on the dining room table. I’m doing my best to ignore it.

But all my little snacks have made a dent. And I can’t afford to run out before the older kids — the one’s capable of inflicting real toilet paper and egg damage — start showing up.

So the bowl must be topped off. I’m heading to the store to buy more candy, just as those evil geniuses planned.

Unless you think the kids would really prefer raisins this year?

Didn’t think so.

****

I was leafing through some old recipes and came across this one from my childhood. I remember this classic bundt cake fondly — it was one of my mother’s specialties. Stash a few candy bars away before the kids clean you out (or dip into your own kids’ collection, if you dare). Its secret ingredient is crushed Heath bars, giving it a crunchy bottom layer.

Toffee Treasure Cake

1 1/4 cups sugar, divided

1 teaspoon cinnamon

2 cups flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup (one stick) unsalted butter, softened

1 cup sour cream

2 eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 cup chopped walnuts

Three 1.4 ounce Heath bars, coarsely crushed

4 tablespoons butter, melted

Preheat oven to 325 F.

Spray a 9- or 10-inch bundt pan with non-stick coating, or grease it generously with butter, and lightly flour it.

In a small bowl, mix together 1/4 cup sugar and cinnamon. Set aside.

Sift together the flour with the baking powder, baking soda, and salt and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl, beat together the butter and sour cream, then mix in the sugar, followed by the eggs, vanilla and then the flour mixture. Beat well to combine.

Spoon half of the batter into the prepared bundt pan. Sprinkle it with 2 tablespoons of the cinnamon sugar, then spoon in the remaining batter. Sprinkle the rest of the cinnamon sugar on top, then the chopped nuts, followed by the crushed Heath bars. Pour the melted butter over top.

Bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the top of the cake springs back when you touch it. Cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then remove.

     It’s a great way to have your cake and your candy bar too.