Food With A Point

Back in the day, when having the best costume secured your popularity for the school year, there were few breaks for those kids whose parents through that the $9.99 prisoner costume from Jean Coutu was “just fine”. One of the only ways to redeem ones status in the social hierarchy we called grade 3 was by the quality of the loot one brought home on October 31^st. Being able to empty that ratty pillow case and unveil a vast variety of mini chocolate bars and a limited amount of rotten peanuts was a golden ticket to temporary popularity.

When we talk about parents and children not communicating or relating, I have to point out that there are few such exceptional examples of this lacuna than what is exemplified during Hallowe'en. Parents want healthy, kids want raw sugar. Mom thinks peanut-free, organic cardboard granola snacks are cool, Johnny wishes those balls at the Ikea playpen were really giant Nerdz. With this divergence in thought ever so present, it is only the truly crafty and resourceful kids who manage to get the best out of this pagan holiday.

You know you are in the presence of a clever rascal who has mastered the art of trick or treating, when his mother lode reveals the following:

• Less than ten plain lollipops. You know, the ones with the cheapy wrapping that always comes off and the candy itself ends up crumbling so you end up with multicoloured lollipop shards at the bottom of your bag? 

• Innumerable amounts of prized mini-chocolate bars. We're talking the complex confections such as Mars and Snickers or the hard to find like Twix and Rolo. There may be a few Aeros and KitKats but these kids are smart enough to know to distribute these. Prime recipient: the pesky little sister who doesn’t know any better but thinks they're are good enough to stop complaining about her own pathetic stash. 

• Packets of fuzzy peaches and sour cherries – these are the expensive candies. Swedish berries come in a close second. 

• None of those lame Ste-Catherine molasses toffees, in that heinous brown and orange wax wrapping that ends up sticking to the revolting log of grossness inside. Nobody likes those and nobody likes the people who give them out either.

• About 5-8 bags of chip. For some reason, these are special and extremely rare. You know you're with a truly talented kid when you all went and knocked on the same doors together, but he's got some and you've got none… 

• Very little loose change. Back in the day, we all had Unicef boxes around our necks and sometimes some of that loose change would get dumped in the pillowcases. But we all know that copper and nickel weighs us down, slows us down and thus potentially limits the number of doorbells we have access to. The good tricksters “lose their boxes” and know when to close off the bag when the heavy inedibles are likely to be introduced yet have it wide open for the specialty swag.

These are the rewards of a tradition that few have mastered, and this especially before they reach the age where it just isn’t appropriate to beg for candy anymore. We always admired these fellow revelers for their skills, while secretly envying them for there candy wealth.

On a final note, it didn’t matter how good or bad you were or are at trick or treating, there is one candy that is a welcome constant. I don’t even think they've changed the packing in the past 20 years. The name alone will send you into an inevitable and ever so satisfying sugar surge: Rockets. Aspirin-sized and contained in tubular cellophane packages, they are pure, coloured, chalky sugar with a twang of sourness. Eat too many, and after you recover from the overdose of glucose, you’ll notice how raw your tongue is from ingesting these addictive little dust compacts by the dozen. Mmm the simple the pleasures of Hallowe’en…