When I was a child I loved candy. That's an understatement; I would have lived on candy if my parents had allowed me to. “MOM... please....I've GOT to have this....” as I clutched a precious Marathon bar or package of Sprees in my sticky little hands. Then the inevitable happened; I got older. My habits went from irresponsible to more sensible, and that included my diet. Started cutting back on soft drinks, fried foods and yes, my beloved sweets save for an occasional pint of ice cream. Candy became one of those things I just stopped paying attention to. Too much sugar is bad for you right? ( as I dumped a large spoon full into my Kona coffee)

It was about a year or two ago while walking through a local drugstore when something caught my eye.

There was a display for two brands of chewing gum I hadn't seen in years: Teaberry and Beemans.

The last time I even heard the name was while watching THE RIGHT STUFF; Chuck Yeager “borrows” a stick of Beemans off one of the ground crew members right before he goes up in his jet.

“Got a stick of Beemans? I'll pay you back later....”

But I hadn't actually seen a package of it in years and shrugged it off as some novelty promotional advertising stunt on the part of Clarks, probably an attempt to get people to buy something anything if it jogged some nostalgic twinge of memory. Then later on I began noticing more candies from my childhood gracing the shelves of local businesses.

Cherry mash. Mike and Ike. Hot Tamales. Milk Duds. Laffy Taffy. Ju Jubes. Big Hunk. Charleston Chew. Cow Tales. Dots. Abba Zabas. Stuff I hadn't seen since the last time I visited the snack bar at the local drive-in theater that closed nearly twenty years ago was suddenly popping up on the shelves of local retailers. First it was the gift shop at the front of Cracker Barrel; but they specialize in nostalgia so I didn't think much about it. Then I started seeing candy from YesterYear on the shelves at World Market, which caters to a slightly more sophisticated clientele. That's when it really started getting my attention. World Market not only had candies I hadn't seen in decades but like Cracker Barrel a selection of soft drinks like Nehi and Frosty root beer I thought had gone out of business years ago.

Now since I am an adult that pays my own dentist bills, I don't ordinarily eat a lot of candy and when I do, I look for words like “sugar-free” on the label. Oh occasionally I would grab a Peanut Butter Twix or Snickers off the “impulse shelf” by the register at the grocery store, but , most of the time I paid little attention to the inventory on the candy aisle I spent so much time perusing as a child. For years I walked past the candy aisles of my local convenience store without stopping but when I first started seeing these ancient candies again I shrugged it off as my mere inattention to what they were stocking the candy aisle with. Maybe they were there all along for all I knew. If they got my attention at all it only sparked amazement that they had survived in a competitive consumer market after all these years.

Mrs Mom's daughter in BC saw a package of Razzles somewhere and put in a request; she wanted me to send her some Razzles. No Problem I told her; I'll pick some up. So once again I started looking around and found out not everyone carries Razzles. I hit every convenience store and drug store in my neighborhood to no avail.

Then I remembered a candy store I had seen while walking through the local “tourist trap” area of town, the Candy Barrel in the Fort Worth Stockyards district. I made the trip over there and spent a long time looking for a free place to park and went into the Candy Barrel, which lived up to its name.

Dozens of varieties of candies were on display around the store stocked in old wooden barrels. But there were no Razzles to be seen anywhere.

I finally found her some Razzles at a hole-in-the-wall kiosk at a local shopping mall (“Take A Break”) that anywhere outside of a mall would have been called a convenience store. They had rolling papers, cigarettes and cigarette lighters, but amongst the junk food and candy shelves I found honest-to-goodness packages of Razzles and bought several packages for her. Success!

I have rekindled my love of sweets in recent years however; Mrs. Mom introduced me to a line of candy bars sold in Canada I have gotten quite fond of like Aeros which come in a variety of styles: Milk chocolate, peppermint, white chocolate etc and Coffee Crisps both of which I filled my backpack with on the way home from my last trip to Canada (the Customs guy at the airport laughed out loud when he asked if I was bringing anything back and showed him my Coffee Crisp stash) and then recently a business opened up locally that may just prove to be the undoing of my healthy eating habits: Cookies and Cream.

Cookies and Cream is an old fashioned candy store with multiple aisles of glass jars filled with every kind of candy imaginable and also has an ice cream bar that features several flavors of Blue Bell ice cream and a separate counter just for their extensive line of gourmet popcorn. Just imagine popcorn flavored like pizza, macaroni and cheese, dill pickles, cheddar and bacon and my current favorite: Loaded Potato. I could just OD on the goodness contained within their walls; they even have sugar-free candies; I sense a new regular shopping destination after I take Mrs. Mom here for the first time.

Well Halloween is fast approaching and here I am without a single piece of candy to hand out. Just as I always seem to wind up doing my Christmas shopping on Christmas Eve with all the other people who put it off until the last possible minute, I'll probably be out looking for the cheapest candy bars I can find (“What's so FUN about half-size candy bars?”) but I have one rule of thumb I religiously stick with; I always buy candy bars I like just in case no trick or treaters knock on my door. I hate getting stuck with a bunch of unused candy but I'll be darned if I'm getting stuck with something I don't like. And consequently it's about the only time I ever eat Snickers or Reeses peanut butter cups anymore.

First, let me say, I have to smile as I look at his picture of popcorn, because despite his insistence he's trying to eat better, I happen to see a coupon flyer for fast food tacos in the background. :) 

I freely admit my role in turning him back on to sugar. When we're apart he always sends me reminders of Texas in care packages. Rotel, my favorite white chicken chili mix, he even paid $30 once to send a $2 package of corn flour when I couldn't find any in the small town I was in up North. It's only fair I return the favor. 

Just yesterday I found Grilled Cheese flavored potato chips and Halloween editions of his favorite Canadian candy. As much as he protests he doesn't eat a lot of sugar, I'm pretty sure he's going to be diving into the box I send, leaving nothing but the wrappers by nightfall. 

Way back in the early days of his career Jerry Seinfeld used to do a bit in his monologue about how cereal was the perfect bachelor food because you put it in a bowl, added milk and Hey I Made Something!

And from spending a good portion of my life as a bachelor I can attest that there's some truth in that.

But eating out Every Single Night can be expensive just as eating Stouffers frozen dinners can be repetitive. And sometimes it might even be a result of curiosity but once in a while there comes a time when men might actually stumble into the kitchen and Make Something.

Sometimes it's just a sandwich. Other times it might just be that bowl of cereal. More often than not it's merely a colossal mess ( I've had room-mates who were good at this) but sometimes men might get the foolish notion that Hey How Hard Can It Be and attempt to actually cook something.

In some ways chili is like Jerry Seinfelds bowl of cereal; it's not really that hard to fix; the complications set in when men start trying to improve on it. And in some ways it is the ultimate bachelor food. It has a limited number of ingredients, tastes like barbeque except you fix it inside the house and depending on how it's fixed it would be a suitable thing for the guy on ManVsFood to eat.

Here in Texas Chili Cook-offs used to be a popular social event until they degenerated into drunken riots. Like barbecue everyone thinks they are an expert on it, everyone thinks everyone else does it WRONG and the BeansVsNoBeans argument is older than I am.

Me? I stick to the basics and lets start with the ingredients. The recipe on the Wick Fowlers box calls for two pounds of ground meat; I always buy a slightly larger portion but we'll get back to that later. And despite chili having a reputation as a Meat Dish I put a lot of actual vegetables in mine. I like to use a good fresh onion and a large bell pepper, preferably a red, orange or yellow one. Green peppers can be used but aren't quite as pretty. And while this can get you lynched in Texas I like red kidney beans in my chili. Recipes abound but I generally use either Wick Fowlers Chili Kits or the ones made by Carroll Shelby; both of them taste just fine to me. You'll also need a 8oz can of tomato sauce.

First you have to brown the meat in a skillet. This is the part that nearly stopped me dead in my tracks the first time I attempted to fix chili ; I mean I'm using a crockpot, isn't that supposed to do the cooking? I also as a matter of routine chop up the onion and cook it in the pan with the ground meat; I have a electric chopper that pulverizes an onion into an eye-burning mushy pulp that caramelizes into the rest of the ingredients as the chili cooks.

While the meat browns in the skillet, I chop up a large bell pepper into tiny pieces. Theoretically this could be done with the electric chopper but I usually just do it by hand. Once the meat is brown I drain the grease into a steel can over the sink which is easier to do in theory than in real life with a heavy skillet and two pounds of hot ground beef. And this is why I always use slightly more than two pounds; inevitably some of the beef falls into the sink; then I pour what I hope is still two pounds into the crock pot and add the chopped bell pepper, a can of strained and washed red kidney beans (this is optional if you don't like beans in your chili) and the spices from the Wick Fowler box (except for the masa and the red pepper) Then I add the 8oz can of tomato sauce and two 8oz cans of water, turn the crockpot on “high” for an hour and turn it down to “low” and hour later.

Mrs Mom and I have debated buying His and Her crockpots; I like my chili spicy and prefer to add chopped jalapenos (not ghost peppers or habaneros) and small amounts of red pepper ( a quarter spoon maximum) but Mrs Mom is adamant about it being too hot for her sensitive Canadian taste buds. I've tried to explain to her that red pepper adds a pleasant taste to it if it's not over-used and will open up clogged sinuses but so far it's been a big No Sale with Mrs. Mom. She insists that Wick Fowlers and Carroll Shelbys both contain enough spices to give it a sufficient “kick” so I generally only make chili when Mrs Mom isn't here.

There is no real time limit when making chili in a crockpot; generally after about four hours the smell drives me nuts and I have to break down and dish some out. I add the masa mixed with about 8oz of hot water about 30 minutes before serving. When I'm ready for it finally I put about a cup of corn chips in a bowl, then put either sliced or grated cheese on top of them and pour the chili over that. One can also add some chopped onion if preferred.

So there you have it; Mr Moms chili. No big secrets involved here; just Texas style chili the way I like it. Now if I could only convince Mrs Mom that chili is supposed to be hot...

Mr Mom's pretty proud of his chili, and he takes great care in every step, so I'm not going to rain on his parade except to say that the Texas level of heat in food is a little more than this gal can handle, but I'm learning. I've actually cooked with fresh jalapenos this past year -- a first for me. Hopefully he'll be patient with me, but until then, that His and Her crock pot idea isn't a bad one. 

If you don't have the chili spice kit in your area you can make your own using the recipe here. Homemade 2 Alarm Chili Kit Now you too can cook like Mr Mom ;) 

Before Mrs Mom moved into my humble abode, she had a lot of questions regarding my kitchen.

How big was my oven?

Did I have a freezer?

How big is my refrigerator?

Did I own any pots and pans?

Did I have a crockpot?

Did I have a kettle?

And so on and so on....

My kitchen up until the time she moved in was a multipurpose room. I didn't even own a dining table; I ate Japanese-style off of a coffee table in front of my TV. And that's when I ate at home.

Instead of a dining table I had a computer desk and a rolling office chair in there where for years I worked at my own pitiful little website, guzzling coffee and pecking at my keypad.

If I needed a cup of coffee, I could spin around and get it from the coffee maker right behind me. When the fish sticks were done I could wheel over to the oven, pull them out and spin around and get the tartar sauce out of the fridge behind me. My spice rack consisted of salt and pepper.

It all started off innocently enough.

A few years back we began talking more and more about the inevitable day in the future when we’d be coexisting under the same roof. We knew that it would involve me relocating my roots to Texas where he has lived and worked all of his life.

During one particular Google chat, after he'd returned back home to Texas, we meandered as usual through a myriad of topics ranging from bluebonnets to whale watching when somehow the topic of his oven came up. It went sorta like this:

Mr Mom: I just got an ATMOS bill. I just paid one right before I left.

Me: What is atmos? Gas? You have gas? I thought you just had electric.

Mr Mom: Got both

Me: What is the gas for?

At this point, I’m almost holding my breath; waiting for “the” answer.

Mr Mom: dryer, hot water heater, stove

Ding! Ding! Ding!

We have a winner! I tell him how I love gas stoves, they cook food so much better than electric. But then he breaks the news that throws me for a loop, and starts a proverbial snowball rolling.

Mr Mom: small oven

me: Oh? How small? You can't cook a turkey in it? What about holding a cookie sheet?

You see women care about these things, because they know they matter.

Mr Mom: It's called an "apartment" oven, it’s about 24 inches across. I don't have a vent like you have, if you cook on the stove top we will have to open the door and point a fan at you :)

I then gave him the response that says everything while only using two letters; the response that sets any man into panic mode, and therefore -- action.

Me: Hmmm

Mr Mom: oh no, shouldn't be that bad

Me: We'll have to find cookie sheets to fit and a small roaster, no cooking for a crowd that’s for sure and we’re going to have to get the largest crock pot you can find

Mr Mom: There’s a thing in the bottom I think is for roasting

Me: you think? :) Take a picture...

I heard him sigh heavily even with all those miles between us, and my door closed.

Mr Mom: hold on

While he was taking a photo, I was searching online.

Me: Ohhhhhh!! They have a 5 qt crock pot at Walmart on sale now for $16 and a 6.5 qt for $19...

He tells me to hang on. He was measuring, and shortly thereafter informs me his cookie sheets fit inside the oven.

Mr Mom: I use them for nachos and fish sticks and pizzas.

What a bachelor. I find myself wondering how he managed to live this long on such nutritionally void food.

Mr Mom: the broiler has about five or six inches clearance, my oven is basically 18x18x18 inches and the broiler about 18x 5

I could tell he’s in full don’t-give-up-on-me-now mode. I tried to reassure him that we’ll make do.

There was a notice in my inbox and go to look at the picture of his stove. Not only has he sent me what I requested, he’s sent an entire series of photos of the inside and outside with ‘the roasting pan’ and a tape measure extended on the interior shots indicating the height, width and depth of the stove’s oven.

It was small. Really small. I reminded myself that size really doesn't matter and tell him if we have a crock pot we’ll be fine.

Me: your photos made me smile :) :) :) getting out your tape measure and all ;) :) I love you :)

Mr Mom : Love you too, Hon. Just showing you a cookie sheet will fit. The stores here have an amazing array of things in all sizes

Me: Yes, there are a lot of single or 2 people families these days. It’s not like the old days when there were families of 12 to feed

Mr Mom: Yeah, the Lonely Bachelor model :)

Me: or the Couple Just Starting Out Model ;)

All was well. I love this, man and I knew, that although it was going to be a challenge we were going to do our best to make it work. I looked at the photos he sent and imagined cooking a small ham or turkey breast in it to celebrate Thanksgiving.

Then --

I notice the two small pots sitting on the top of his stove in the top photograph.

Me: Are the pots on top the extent of what you have for cooking?

Mr Mom: we can buy what we need

Yes, he’s right, I reminded myself for the millionth time, this isn't the end of the world.

Fast forward a couple of days; we were on Google chat once again. He’d come home from work and we were catching up on each other’s day. He’d worked a long ten hours, and had stopped on his way home to get BBQ’d ribs and had just finished feeding his cat.

He asks me what I’ve been up to. I’d been to the local market and had gotten some great deals on produce, and the day had been on the cool side, so I’d been cooking and baking up a storm to stock up the freezer. I’d cooked corn on the cob to freeze the kernels, made a huge green bean casserole and divided it up into smaller portions. I’d made a pot of pulled pork, meatloaf and to top it off two batches of cookies. He sounded impressed by my wanton display of domesticity.

Little did I know, I'd just added another layer to that proverbial snowball we'd been forming.

Me: I's a cool Fall day here. Perfect for cooking and stocking up the freezer. On nice days there, I'll do the same. Wait, your freezer is small though huh?

Mr Mom: Yeah that is a problem, I don't have room for one either.

Me: I have a small one in my kitchen I got for a couple of hundred dollars. It's really nice to have when deals come up.

Mr Mom: they sell smaller ones, but space is an issue here

I know his place is small, and I really don't want to have my arrival feel more like an imposition than the start of a wonderful chapter in our lives, so I tell him we'll work it out and make do.

Mr Mom: I will take you to the farmers market on weekends :)

Me: Oh, I love farmers markets!

Mr Mom: and we can shop in the evenings...

We were back into full tilt planning and dreaming mode. I loved this mode. It always made our dream seem real.

Me: I like talking about it though, it makes it seem real :)

Mr Mom: you will just have to make adjustments. Just keep in mind you are coming to a bachelors apartment.

Me: Is that a warning?

Mr Mom: my way of arranging things may seem strange, computer, washing machine and dryer in the kitchen

Me: well that is odd ;) I was hoping for a table and chairs

Mr Mom: Another thing, I have no dining table.

Me: Oh

Mr Mom: But we can get this stuff, I have a truck.

I tried to reassure him that I didn't need fancy, only clean and functional. I mentioned that I really like the little island I had in the middle of my kitchen for baking and cooking. Apparently he didn't have one of those either. And no cookware; but he assures me he has plates, utensils and glasses. A vision ran through my head of mismatched plates, and a set of plastic Tupperware cups. Ugh. I might as well be honest now.

Me: Glass glasses? I don't like plastic ;)

Mr Mom: Got glass glasses

Whew! Dodged that bullet. He continues on to tell me he's been looking at sets of pots and pans. I tell him I prefer stainless steel because the coated stuff has carcinogens. He assures me we're going to be fine. We'll start making a list of things we need, and watch prices. Then I realize, we're talking an awful lot about me cooking.

Me: We can eat out if it's too hot to cook right?

Mr Mom: Yes we can

I decide to have a little fun...

Me: You do have pillows and sheets?

Mr Mom: Yes! I have a real bed with a real mattress.

Me: Two sets of sheets? And towels?

Mr Mom: One to wash, one to wear and a bathroom closet full of towels.

Me: Dish clothes, dish towels?

Mr Mom: Some, but the dollar store has those.

Me: Curtains may be an issue, I've seen your living room ones.

Mr Mom: This is adding up ;)

Me: I'll bring the curtains if that's the deal breaker.

Mr Mom: Oh baby, we can get these things; going to cost to make you feel at home; take some work...good thing I have a truck... :)

Me: Do you have a dresser? closet for clothes?

Mr Mom: That's another problem. We are going to have to do some improvisation to make you comfortable here

That's it. I've got to let him off the hook and tell him that as long as he's there and happy about me being there, then the rest will come as its needed to. But dang it all, my teasing has gotten him worried and he shares something that's been eating at him.

Mr Mom: Just afraid you will look around and go: 'how do you live like this?"

I smile to myself. I've seen his place. Pictures, videos. I've shared space with this man and know how carefully meticulous he is. I know he takes care of what he has, rather than thinking of his possessions as disposable and easily replaced. I know he doesn't  have much, but takes great pride in and care of what he does. I tell him I'm not worried. He believes me and we move on to an entirely different topic.

What pots and pans he has was really insignificant when I take in the full reality of the fact that after being a bachelor for his entire life, he was willing to open up his world and let me in. That is far better than a full-sized oven, don't you think?

Fast forward a few years from these conversations -- we made the leap and I made the move. A crock pot and a kitchen island later, all is well and life is good.