(For all you young ‘uns confused about the title, click here.)

When I was trick-or-treating, back in the Pleistocene era, some households were still offering homemade treats to the kids who came to their door. This was obviously before mass hysteria gripped the nation and parents freaked out about the introduction of razor blades or drugs into Halloween treats. It was also before basic germ theory was widely understood, and no one seemed to worry about unhygienic handling of foodstuffs.

Anyway, I fondly remember the time when the old lady in a house at the corner of Lewiston and Kennewick smiled and dropped a homemade popcorn ball, wrapped in waxed paper, into the orange plastic pumpkin I was carrying. I didn’t think much of it in the moment; in fact, I may have dismissed her as a cheapskate unwilling to pay money for real, factory-produced candy bars. And yet, when I got home and eventually ate the homemade treat, I experienced bliss like I’d never experienced it before. It was about the size of a small cantaloupe, and tasted at once buttery and sweet and salty, simultaneously gooey and crunchy. The fact that it was homemade, I finally decided, made it more authentic than the mass-produced, overhyped Bit-O-Honeys (Bits-O-Honey?) and Chicks-O-Stick. I couldn’t wait until the next Halloween, when I’d go back and get another one. Alas, after waiting 364 days, no one answered the doorbell on Halloween night. Rumor had it the woman had the poor manners to die before I was able to secure another popcorn ball.

So imagine my excitement when, yesterday evening, a mysterious package addressed to “Treat Man” arrived at the door, and it turned out to contain popcorn balls. The package was revealed to be sent by my daughter-in-law Katelyn, God bless her. The popcorn balls, alas, were not homemade, but rather were produced by some mysterious company based in Utah called Kathy Kaye Foods. I was eager to see how these stacked up against the homemade versions from my youth.

1. Packaging. Well, it’s not hand-wrapped in waxed paper, but it’s a reasonably interesting package. Kathy Kaye, unlike Willy Wonka, had the presence of mind to use the standard monster font for the lettering. The silhouette of kids trick-or treating is a little unusual, and not especially spooky, but at least it’s evocative of Halloween. Below is a better view of the package, without the pesky popcorn ball itself in the way:

I was inclined to give it 2 points, but then I was especially impressed that they’re willing to prominently feature the actual popcorn ball itself through the clear cellophane (unlike Reese’s and others, which give an exaggerated, prettied-up illustration on the wrapper). Add to that the inspired bats on the package, and I’ll give it three points.

2. Appearance of the Treat. It’s perfectly spherical, which is a shape that evaded the old lady on Lewiston. All you really see is popcorn; there’s no evidence of corn syrup and the other gooey ingredients that transform popcorn into a popcorn ball. It’s totally acceptable, but unremarkable. 2 points.

3. Taste. Let’s get down to brass tacks: This is NOT a Lewiston popcorn ball. It’s not gooey, it’s not chewy. It’s sweet, but not overwhelmingly so. It reminds me of the pink popcorn bricks that I used to get at the circus or at Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. As a substitute for the Old Lady’s popcorn balls, this was a disappointment.

And yet. I always liked the pink popcorn bricks. Actually, this popcorn ball is reminiscent of kettle corn. It’s sweet and salty, and not all that filling. After finishing one popcorn ball (1 ounce, and 110 calories), I was ready to open a second. Only the intervention of my wife, who wields the word “muffin top” like a cudgel, stopped me from opening a second package. These are, in a word, tasty. I give them 2 points, mainly out of respect to the Unknown Lady of Lewiston.

4. Value. I’m told my bag of 12 popcorn balls cost $5.99. That works out to about 50 cents each. That’s a lot of fun for four bits. I give it 3 points.

Steve’s Sweetober Fest Score: 10 out of 12 points, which qualifies as a major TREAT. This is the new front-runner!

Back in 1971, while the United States was still on the gold standard and my age moved into double digits, Paramount Pictures released Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, which was a screen adaptation of the 1964 book written by a World War II RAF fighter pilot and British spy, Roald Dahl. I’m not making this up.

It was recognized that the movie had potentially lucrative merchandising potential, especially in the realm of candy. And so, just a few months before the release of Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory, the Willy Wonka Candy brand was developed. Wonka made a number of products, including Oompas and the Skrunch bar. Then, in the 1980s, Wonka released “Nerds,” which were brightly-colored, tiny pebbles of sugar and tangy flavoring.

In 2000, the wizards at Willy Wonka conceived the idea of taking a gummy rope and coating it with Nerds. Because, why not? The result was the stolid Nerd Rope. In 2013, Wonka realized that they could Spookify the Nerd Rope and they could sell it as a Halloween candy.

Over the years, the Wonka brand was sold to Nestle and then, quite recently, to the Ferrara Candy Company. Interestingly, my Spooky Nerd Rope doesn’t admit to any such parentage.

So, for the two of you who are still reading this, let’s get down to the review of the Spooky Nerd Rope!

1. Packaging. Well, the rope comes in a shiny orange wrapper, which is a decent start for a Halloween candy. On the wrapper is written “Spooky Nerds Rope” in decidedly non-spooky script. Scattered about the wrapper are a handful of images of tiny nerd characters in various Halloween get-ups. There’s also the hint of a spider web motif in the background. While the overall effect couldn’t really be called “spooky,” I think they’ve made a reasonable attempt at a Halloween theme. 2 points.

2. Appearance of the Treat. Close your eyes and try to envision what would make this Nerd Rope “spooky.” Maybe a sprinkling of little skull-shaped candies? Or little tombstones? Maybe the entire rope is in the shape of a bone? Or a hangman’s noose? Maybe it spells out “BOO” in script? Surely there are many spooky possibilities. Now, open your eyes and look at what the folks at Wonka came up with:

The word disappointment does not begin to capture my, uh, disappointment. Is this really supposed to be spooky? It’s like any other nerd rope, except perhaps there’s a slightly higher proportion of orange nerds. Since when is purple, white, and orange associated with Halloween, or spookiness? Surely if color was going to be their only nod to Halloween, they could have gone exclusively with black and orange? This thing is about as scary as Rainbow Brite. No points.

3. Taste. I was prepared to gag on the chemical-y, gritty, acidic nerd candies. But O. M. G. By sprinkling the Nerds onto a gummy rope, the Wonka folks leveraged some kind of dark alchemy to transform two so-so candies (gummies and Nerds) into a soul-satisfying treat. The soft, sweet rope balances out the crunchy, tangy Nerds just like malt does for hops. The mouthfeel is full and ever-changing and chewy and literally mouth-watering. And what’s this? Once I bit into the rope I discovered that the center is blood-red. Maybe I’ll give back one point for Appearance of the Candy. This was a welcome surprise. I heartily give it 3 points for taste. Drinks all around! On me!

4. Value. The Spooky Nerd Rope cost me a buck. It’s only 0.92 ounce. But Nerds are highly concentrated candy and you don’t really want to eat too many of them. The size was just right. I think it’s a good value, but of course I’m currently in a candy-induced euphoric state. I’ve asked my wife to hide the checkbook until this wears off… 3 points.

Steve’s Sweetoberfest Score: 9 out of 12 (including the bonus point for the blood-red center), which qualifies it as a solid TREAT.

Reese’s seems to really be capitalizing on Halloween. They introduced the new Franken-cup this year, they’ve got some other confections that we’ll review later this month, and they have today’s highlight, the “Reese’s Pumpkins.” So, let’s get on with the review!

1. Packaging. Not bad. Once again, it’s the familiar Reese’s orange, and there’s a depiction of the pumpkin in question. Somewhat confusingly, they turned the “pumpkin” into a jack o’lantern. But I think the image is more Halloween-y than an uncarved pumpkin. So we’ll give this 2 points.
2. Appearance of the Treat. Once you unwrap the “Reese’s Pumpkins,” you discover three things. First, despite the plural in the name, there is only one pumpkin. That’s a disappointment, especially if your wife (theoretically) is expecting you to give her one of them. Second, you discover that the jack o’lantern face is Fake News. The candy has a blank visage. What’s more, the proportions of the pumpkin (modestly tall, very wide) are disconcerting. I wouldn’t select a pumpkin shaped like this from my local pumpkin patch. 1 point.

3. Taste. As we discussed in an earlier post, Reese’s has mastered the peanut butter and chocolate combination. It’s a match made in heaven. But this particular pumpkin shape seems to have altered the chocolate-peanut butter ratio. That is, the chocolate seems a bit thinner, and the wide pumpkin lends itself to a greater proportion of peanut butter filling. What’s more, the pumpkin lacks the characteristic “pleated” edge that has such an awesome mouthfeel. So, I’m a little disappointed in the taste experience. But, hey, it’s a Reese’s, so I’ll give it 2 points.

4. Value. This 1.2 ounce package cost a buck. Now, one Reese’s pumpkin weighs the same as two Reese’s Franken-cups. But a king-size package of four Franken-cups costs only 1.69 times as much as a Reese’s pumpkin. Got that? Overall, it’s not a tremendous value. But it’s still a pretty satisfying treat. I’ll give it 2 points

Steve’s Sweetober Fest Score: 7 out of 12, which qualifies as a minor TREAT.