Nostalgic for the halcyon days of trick-or-treating? Adults would do better to pity the current crop of kids, most of whom will never experience the joy of traipsing through dead leaves, ringing a bell and demanding a metabolism-jolting treat from a jaded homeowner.
As grown-ups, we control our destinies, and should we choose, we can don a costume of work clothing, trick our employers with a small white lie, and treat ourselves to one of the last guilty pleasures that doesn't smack of sin: candy counters.
If you're not a regular sugar user, you may be surprised how many confectionery emporiums lurk around town, usually near transportation hubs or large edifices of employment. Joints like Candy Junction or the Sweet Factory are latter-day five-and-dimes, but instead of cracker barrels or jars of licorice, lucite bins aggressively promote their artificially-colored wares. They've got all the classics, from gummi bears and lollipops to jellybeans and Boston baked beans. There are few specialty items, but if you're dying to jumble individually-wrapped Starbursts and Rollos, you're set. In fact, you'll be joined by adult candyholics scooping treats into bags like they were kids filling plastic buckets with sand shovels.
FAO Schweetz also doesn't offer a counter per se, but theme rooms (i.e. "the Chocolate Mint")and rows of bins allow you to forgive the oversight. They've got forty-six flavors of Jelly Bellys alone, along with nouveau kid products like gummi watches and C3-PO Pez dispensers, as well as oldies like cinnamon imperials, candy necklaces and jawbreakers that dwarf a baby's fist. The Chuck E. Cheese of candy shops, FAO Schweetz is loud and crowded, but it's the quickest route to feeling like a kid in a candy store again.
Want to reclaim your inner child without mingling with actual children? Move up to candy bars that actually mix their own concoctions for more refined and adult (read: expensive) delights. If you're out of the Loop, try Mr. Kite's, a closet-sized storefront wallpapered with letters of satisfaction from candy-loving clients. On a recent afternoon, a young woman passed the time talking with the counter man about sightings of Jerrys Krause and Reinsdorf (both customers, apparently) and Jerry nemesis Scottie Pippen (just passing by). Observing an order of a single cappuccino truffle, the woman remarked, with the world-wise sadness of an addict, that "one's not going to be enoughÑyou're going to need more."
Margie's has a cluttered, grandmotherly feel and has been around since the thirties. It's definitely a family operation; witness a grandfather telling a squalling toddler "you're a man now. Stop crying and go apologize to your mother." The candy counter is older and almost underlit, but you'll be happy to spend some time deciding which chocolate shell hides the cream filling you need most. And, even with a small order, the same grandfather may slip some freebies into your bag.
To go upscale with your primal urge to leave chocolate fingerprints, gorging until your lips are brown and flaky with poorly-aimed cocoa goodness, head downtown for the top-notch goods. At Godiva, a smallish selection is artfully displayed, as if the store sold sugar-spun Tiffany's trinkets. The bloke behind the counter is English (the accent adds class, ya know) and offers you a sample from a platter which, although it's not the GOOD stuff, is still damn good. Atmospherics aside, the mere sight of these globular goodies will inspire reverent confusion, for even as with Whitman's Sampler chocs, the tantalizing mystery remains "What's it like inside?"
But you can get Godiva all over, even at Carson's, where you know you're getting into some serious chocolatierie. There's an adjunct counter of seasonal orange-and-green trifles, but the serious stuff is front and center: egg-shaped truffles, straining against the laced netting of frosting; nut clusters; cloud-dropping haystacks; turks; fingers; and unbelievably gorgeous, shell-shaped hazelnut pralines at the bargain price of $19.50 a pound.
Think you've seen it all? Head to Marshall Field's Marketplace, easily accessible by pedway should you need to slip in unseen. Escaping the crowds for a well-deserved pick-me-up, the traveler finds first an island, its verdant shores strewn with elysian delights that supersede the imagination. From small, almost obsessively detailed works courtesy of Belgium and Switzerland, to frowsy, lumpen local goo, it's eye candy that you know will taste damn good, too. Chocolate shaped like cupcakes and ice cream cones, like cigars and frogs, marzipan formed like fruit, mock-mushroom truffles and, of course, chocolate dollar signs. Hungrily circling the island, you discover in fact a candy archipelago, with kingdoms lofty (Charbonnel et Walker) and settlements bourgeois (Fannie May). But if all you need's a bag of red hots, they can set you up with that too.
(Keir Graff)
- Candy Junction, Merchandise Mart Plaza, (312)464-1100
The Sweet Factory, 55 West Monroe, (312)726-4470
FAO Schweetz, 835 North Michigan, (312)787-3773
Mr. Kite's Candies & Nuts, 1153 North State, (312)664-7270
Margie's Candies, 1960 North Western, (773)384-1035
Godiva Chocolatier, 10 South LaSalle, (312)855-1588
Carson Pirie Scott, 1 South State, (312)641-7000
Marshall Field's, 111 North State, (312)781-1000
copyright 1998 New City Communications, Inc.