By allowing ads to appear on this site, you support the local businesses who, in turn, support great journalism.
Column: This Thanksgiving-inspired candy corn is cursed
11072020 CANDY.jpg
Branch's Turkey Dinner Candy Corn offers a lineup of Thanksgiving-inspired flavors. - photo by Kelsey Podo

Springing up from the pits of hell this season is a candy so vile that I wouldn’t wish its flavors upon my worst enemies. 

This elusive pack of treats, or rather dirty tricks, is Branch’s Turkey Dinner Candy Corn. Different colors of this sugary creation exhibit familiar Thanksgiving dishes and sides, including green beans, roasted turkey, cranberry sauce, ginger glazed carrots, sweet potato pie and stuffing. 

I know what you’re thinking. Who in the world would try this monstrosity?  

Well, I did, folks.  

I’d like to say that I made the sacrifice for my precious readers, but honestly, pure curiosity is what motivated me to dive in. This week we’re taking a break from beer and stepping into new territory.  

My father-in-law found a pack of the turkey dinner candy corn at his local Walgreen’s in Duluth. When I visited with my husband for dinner, he opened the bag and encouraged me to try it.  

One by one, we tasted the different flavors, and one by one, we ran to the trash can to spit out the horrid remains. 

The bag of candy corn didn’t have a diagram to help us identify the different flavors, so fate made the decision for us. First up to bat was the green-colored one, which we assumed was the green bean “treat.” 

It had a strong note of dog food with a hint of grass at the end. No, I’ve never eaten grass from my yard, but most of us have smelled it enough to know what it tastes like. You’re probably thinking this type of candy corn sounds disgusting, but unfortunately, it was the least offensive of the batch. 

Next up to bat was the obvious cranberry sauce flavored one, dyed in red. At first, I told my father-in-law, “This isn’t so bad.” However, as soon as the words came out of my mouth a strong medicinal essence seized my tastebuds, and suddenly, I was transported back to my childhood when I had to force myself to drink tiny cups of cough syrup.  

No thank you. I’ll go back to the dog food-reminiscent green bean candy corn.  

The next batch of flavors all displayed different combinations of yellow, brown, white and orange. I should’ve made a chart of the ones I ate to match with the dishes they represent, but I had entered a purgatory-like state with each atrocious flavor. I wasn’t thinking clearly.  

I tried what I believed to have been the turkey flavor, and I was able to stomach it. Next came what I assumed was the stuffing candy, only identifiable by the notes of celery.  

I then grabbed what I expected was the sweet potato candy corn, but it ended up being the carrots of torment. Imagine someone taking the flavor of a raw carrot and enhancing it to its highest level of sharpness. This flavor proved so vile that I almost threw up.  

Those who know me are aware that I have a strong stomach. It’s strong enough to survive stinky tofu, a Chinese dish that has been fermented for hours in sour milk and tastes like a combination of garbage and feces — and smells like it too. 

I’m not even sure if what I tried next was the sweet potato-flavored candy corn because the carrot one coated my tastebuds for the next hour.  

I decided not to undergo the ordeal a second time to chart out the other flavors, so if you’re curious, you’ll have to enter the unknown and send me an email about your findings. 

According to the Walgreen’s employee I spoke to in Gainesville, this type of candy corn is elusive and only appears at certain locations. If you’re lucky, or possibly cursed, you may come across one of these.  

If you do happen upon this candy and give it a try, keep a trashcan nearby and please let me know what you think.  

Regional events