I bought $11 worth of Halloween candy last week, and I gave out exactly none of it because I ended up going out on Halloween rather than staying home.

So I’ve been eating it like a madman ever since. It’s not gluttony. It’s science. It’s an experiment in determining the best and worst ways to shamelessly make one’s way through $11 worth of candy. I’ve risked my physical and psychological well-being in this endeavor. But I’ve drawn a few conclusions during the process that I think can really help the rest of you in your post-Halloween diabetic death-spiral. Here’s what I’ve learned:

Being an adult on Halloween is better than being a kid. I can eat as much candy as I want, and chalk it up to the holiday. I don’t have to dress up and go door-to-door for it. There are, however, serious dangers involved.

The limit on jumbo Lemonheads in a single sitting is somewhere well south of 10, because 10 makes your tongue feel as though it’s been danced upon by a hundred little trolls in stiletto heels. (Although maybe that’s the sort of thing you’re into, weirdo.)

The other flavors of Lemonheads, now called Cherryheads, Grapeheads and Appleheads, were much better under their former names, Cherry Clan, Alexander the Grape and Johnny Apple Treat. The Ferrara Pan company expects me to enjoy these candies with such pedestrian names? I don’t think so. Oh, I’ll eat them — I’ll eat them till they’re gone — but I will do so grudgingly until the suits over at Big Candy return to their more whimsical naming conventions.

There is no better candy bar than the often-overlooked and criminally hard-to-find Take 5. It’s got it all, man. Peanut butter, caramel, peanuts and a pretzel enrobed in chocolate. If they could find a way to incorporate Irish whiskey in there somehow, it would be perfect.

Dipping a Take 5 bar in Irish whiskey is not the answer. It just makes both products worse. Doesn’t matter how many times you try it. (I tried it six times.)

There’s something comforting about good ol’ Snickers. I bought the variety pack, which included Snickers with almonds and those new(ish?) peanut butter Snickers squares. They’re all good, but the nonstandard Snickerses felt a bit sacrilegious (sacrilicious?). I still prefer the canonical version. It has endured for more than 80 years as tastes in virtually everything else have shifted. Knowing that I can enjoy the same candy as my father and my father’s father gives me a sense of continuity, a feeling that there is some strength to whatever loose bonds we share as humans over time. Also, I find the word “nougat” hilarious.

Say it out loud. Nougat. Noooooooooo-gat. See? Hilarious. And if you think it’s funny now, try saying it after you’ve had three or four whiskey and Take 5s.

— The Indoorsman