Art of the Odd

Drove down toward LAX to pick up a rental car, took my father down to a conference in Anaheim (where we had lunch with a recently-discovered, several-times-removed cousin descended (as are we) from Frisian pirates), drove to Riverside for Alli and Astro’s wedding, drove back to Venice, decided I was so enjoying the rented Malibu that I couldn’t be finished driving it yet, and drove to Santa Monica to have a drink at Finn McCool’s (where we’ve often had a drink with dinner, but never before had a drink on its own; sadly, the musicians quit just as we walked in), then walked down the beach in the fog.

I love the fog.

I love the Chevy Malibu.

I love my father.

I love my friends.

And I love NovySan.

It’s been a great day.

(Photo by SP8254)

Over at Hank and Willie this morning, Anna posted a recipe for homemade candy corn. I have to admit to an odd fascination with candy corn. If you ask me if I like it, I’ll probably say no — but if you offer me a piece, I may take it. It’s one of those candies I have to stare at for awhile, before rolling it around my mouth and saying things like, “This is awful! Why am I eating this?” NovySan says it’s marzipan — but not good marzipan.

The candy corn thing, though, made me think of another strange sort of candy — one that I’m not sure I would take if you offered me one. Circus Peanuts. Those bizarre, bloated blobs of orangey sugar lumps. They’re an occasional topic of conversation in our house. NovySan likes them, because his grandfather always had a jar. I shudder whenever I think about them. Maybe it’s the odd sort of tingling seizure near the back of my throat. It’s like a Pavlovian response to the very mention of Circus Peanuts.

So, of course, I had to go see whether I could find a recipe for them. Was I really going to make Circus Peanuts for my husband? Probably — though it might depend on whether I needed a candy thermometer, and whether I was trying to avoid doing something important. I might just have told him that I’d thought about it.

I didn’t find a recipe, though. Apparently, they’re very difficult to make. And yet, several candy companies do make them. Diana Moore Eschofen, a spokesperson for Spangler Candy Company (”a producer of superior quality Circus Peanuts”), says, “The consistency is very hard to achieve. The ingredients have to be just right, the heat and the moisture have to be perfect. There are specific idiosyncrasies in the recipe that have to watched. Circus Peanuts aren’t easy, but they definitely have a following. A devoted, faithful following.”

I was surprised to find out that they’re banana-flavored. I don’t actually remember the flavor of Circus Peanuts, except as something vaguely orange. Eschofen says no one knows why they’re banana-flavored, either. Or why they’re orange. “We’ve asked people in the Spangler family. We’ve asked historians from Barnum and Bailey Circus. But no one knows.”

But if I didn’t find a recipe for Circus Peanuts, I did find several that use Circus Peanuts. Beside’s Starchy’s lovely Twinkie Fondue over there on the left, Jolene Sugarbaker offers up “Mary Lou’s Perfect for a PotLuck Circus Peanut Orange Strawberry Pineapple Nut Salad.” Church picnics may never be the same…

It started with this — an innocent-looking blog post entitled “The Fluffy Mackerel Pudding might be my favorite.”

Fluffy what? Fluffy and mackerel should never be placed in the same sentence. “Oh, sweetie, what a perfectly adorable little fluffy mackerel!”

Never mind the pudding.

And so of course I had to follow the link to the site that inspired such a fantastically bizarre title.

It’s called Candy Boots. And it’s the home of the Amazing Mackerel Pudding Plan! What, you ask is The Amazing Mackerel Pudding Plan? Why, it’s the book inspired by a collection of truly horrifying Weight Watchers recipe cards from 1974.

I went. I toured. And then I shared the link with my husband.

“I think I’ve seen this before,” he said.

And then he said, “Wait. I know why these look so familiar. It’s because we had these.”

Oh, poor child. Can you imagine? Growing up with these cards lurking in your kitchen? Lying in wait?

He scrolled through the images. He stopped.

“Oh, my God!” he cried. “It’s SPECTACULAR!”

“I always wanted to make this,” he said. “And now I can’t remember why.”

“Because it’s spectacular?” I suggested. “And made of meat?”

“I guess the idea of hot dog engineering was just attractive,” he said.

This is why I love this man.

And I think I know what we’re making for next year’s MeatFest. Except we’re going to make it with really good sausages. And that’s just wrong.

(Photo by Scott Beale/Laughing Squid, MeatFest poster by Mikl-Em)