My household was never the kind that kept a package of candy in the pantry “just in case.” There was no stash of fun-size bars for movie nights, no bowl of leftover Halloween loot that lasted into November. Candy simply was not part of the everyday landscape. When I moved to America and discovered Snickers, it felt like a revelation—the perfect balance of nougat, caramel, peanuts, and chocolate. I loved them, but they remained a rare treat, something I might get once in a while if we happened to be somewhere that sold them. They were never something that lived in our house.
Because of that, Halloween never quite clicked for me. The idea of kids (and adults) walking around with bags full of candy, then bringing it all home to be eaten whenever they wanted, struck me as almost absurd– how could they not go through the entire bag in one sitting? #FatGirll. In my world, sweets were occasional and deliberate (For tea with guests).. An entire plastic pumpkin overflowing with chocolate bars felt less like a holiday tradition and more like a kind of excess I could only relate to when I was being gluttonous and secretive. I understood the costumes and the pumpkins, but the sheer volume of candy always made me feel like an outsider looking in.
Now that I am older (and, I like to think, a little wiser), I have mostly traded the classic candy aisle for versions that feel better for my body. I still really enjoy sweets—I just prefer ones made with ingredients I can actually recognize. My boyfriend has fully embraced this preference. Every weekend on our coffee date, he makes sure I have a Honey Mama’s bar waiting for me. Those bars are simple in the best way: nothing but cocoa nibs and honey, with a texture that is somehow both dense and creamy. There is no weird aftertaste or long ingredient list. It is just chocolate that tastes like chocolate.
Because it is spooky season, he is taken the mission a step further. Instead of only sticking with our usual healthier bars, he has been hunting for cleaner versions of the classic “normie” candy bars everyone grew up with—the ones that normally come loaded with oils, gums, artificial colors, and other things neither of us wants.
That is how we found Unreal. They make versions of M&Ms, Reese’s cups, and other familiar favorites without the usual junk. No artificial dyes, no weird emulsifiers, just better ingredients that still deliver the flavors people know. He recently bought their take on Mounds bars—the coconut ones, essentially Almond Joy without the almond.
The first bite was genuinely impressive. It is literally just shredded coconut enrobed in dark chocolate. The coconut is sweet and chewy, the chocolate is deep and not overly sweet, and the whole thing feels satisfying in a way that a regular candy bar rarely does for me anymore. There is no waxy coating or strange chemical aftertaste—just coconut and chocolate doing exactly what they are supposed to do. I polished off more than one in a single sitting.
The package had eight fun-size bars. I will not be saving any of them for Halloween.
Part of me still finds the traditional Halloween candy haul a little wild. But these days I am less interested in judging the excess and more interested in finding versions of the things I enjoy that actually make me feel good afterward. I do not need a giant bag of candy sitting around the house (I would probably eat it!), and I do not feel deprived without one. What I do need is the occasional real treat—something that tastes indulgent without requiring me to ignore half the ingredient list.
My boyfriend gets that. He does not try to talk me into regular Snickers or force the “just this once” conversation. He simply shows up with Honey Mama’s on ordinary weekends and goes looking for Unreal when the season calls for something more festive. It turns out that a bag of cleaner coconut bars eaten freely, without any Halloween deadline attached, is more than enough for me.
I still do not fully understand the impulse to collect a mountain of candy only to ration it for weeks. But I understand the desire for something sweet that feels special— I can usually get through my something sweet in a few hours. Brag. These days, that something just happens to be made with better ingredients—and I have no intention of waiting until October 31st to enjoy it.
