Maple Candy

My first job out of college was in a maple candy factory, perhaps the most successful application of a liberal arts degree to date. Now, as a good Vermonter, I am a huge proponent of all things maple. Maple syrup, maple candy, gay marriage licenses notarized with a maple stamp, you name it. I lived and died by the code of maple. That is, until I got the factory job and ate maple candy non-stop for the better part of a year. My shameless gluttony coupled with coming home every day in maple soaked pants (not to mention working with a drug dealer who regularly threatened to stab me) was enough to make the very thought of maple candy absolutely revolting to me.

When I went home for Christmas, I bought a maple leaf from my old factor as a little present for someone, but it never got delivered. So I’ve been looking at this maple leaf on my dresser for a few weeks and wondering, is four years enough time that I can finally put the past behind me and stomach the idea of maple candy again? Well, today my sweet tooth got the better of me and I decided to give it a shot. The verdict? The sickening sweetness of the candy was only offset by the bitter memory of folding thousands of these boxes as I opened it.

Maybe in another four years…

-TC