This edition of Full Belly Files was originally emailed to subscribers on January 26, 2024. To receive Matt Kettmann’s food newsletter in your inbox each Friday, sign up at independent.com/newsletters.
I’ve always enjoyed candy, leaning more toward the fruity and tart stuff than the rich chocolate side of the scale, though I don’t discriminate much. You’ll just as easily spot me buying a bag of Sour Skittles or the latest Haribo Goldbears flavor in some random gas station as you will see me indulging in the latest truffle by Twenty-Four Blackbirds or exotic bar imported by Chocolate Maya in downtown Santa Barbara.
As a kid, candy was more of a special treat, readily available around holidays like Halloween, Christmas, Valentine’s Day, and especially Easter, when, as the oldest cousin of many, I always hauled in the most plastic eggs at my aunt and uncle’s farm outside of Yuba City. Beyond the holidays, candy usually showed up on sporadic occasions such as going to the movies and amusement parks. And I can't forget our summer weeks at Capitola Beach, where we’d hit up the Chocolate Bar as often as our stubbed, sandy toes could make the two-block walk. It wasn’t, as far as I can remember, an ubiquitous part of life, save for maybe a few M&Ms sprinkled here and there on otherwise regular weeknights.