You say Potato...

I say Pa-tah-toe...

That little ditty from the "Shall We Dance" movie song "Let's Call the Whole Thing Off" came to mind as my hubby and I bantered about Christmas goodies called "Haystacks."

About a month ago, Dan volunteered to put together treat bags for children attending the church Sunday School Christmas Program. As a new church council member, Dan wanted to provide today's children with a taste of "the good old days" when he was a kid attending his grandparents' rural church in Leaf Mountain.

Dan was determined each bag should include unshelled peanuts, candy canes, ribbon candy, other Brach's goodies, and haystacks.

"Haystacks?" I asked. "Who's going to make those?"

"You can buy them," he said. I countered, "I've never seen them in stores. My grandma used to make them with butterscotch chips, chow mein noodles and peanuts."

"Haystacks are chocolate pyramid-shapes with a white center," Dan explained.

"What's in them?" I asked. "Marshmallow? Coconut?"

"I don't know," he said. "Something – creamy, sweet. But... we've gotta have chocolate haystacks like the ones in Leaf Mountain."

A couple weeks later, I began scanning store aisles to fill his old-fashion candy requests. My mom tipped me off on the ribbon candy available through my sisters' grocery employer. As I picked up four bags of mini-ribbon candy, I noticed clear boxes of chocolate pyramid-shaped candy with filled centers. The label said "Sponge Candy" but I had a hunch this might be my hubby's "Haystacks."

"Sponge Candy!" Dan said looking at the three boxes I'd brought home. "Those aren't Haystacks and I doubt the kids will eat sponge candy – the ones I've tried taste like burnt meringue."

"Whatever..." I said and set to work with the ingredients for my Grandma's Butterscotch Haystacks.

1 12-ounce package of butterscotch chips
1 cup of chow mein noodles
3/4 cup of peanuts

I melted the butterscotch chips in a pot and stirred in the other two ingredients. On a piece of wax paper, I dropped heaping-teaspoon-sized scoops of the mixture into mounds, let them set up for a half-hour, popped them off and offered them to my family saying: "These are what we called "Haystacks" when I was a kid."

Nodding to Dan, I added, "They're distinctively different than the Haystacks you've described."

Dan took a bite.

"Yes," he agreed. "They've got a distinct taste! Soy..."

I shook my head, "Hey! They're not my favorite. I don't like butterscotch."

Before our boys gobbled up the Butterscotch Haystacks, Dan grabbed a few more.

Tuesday I walked into our local farm store on a separate errand. As I passed by the Christmas candy aisle, an older woman worker was taking inventory. I asked, "Would you happen to carry something called 'Haystacks.' They're chocolate with a white center."

She walked over to a stand of clear boxes marked "Chocolate Drops," handed me a package and said: "I've heard people call these "Haystacks." They've got a white center."

"Creamy white?" I asked and she nodded.

"Thanks," I said reaching for three more boxes. "My husband should be thrilled."

Before checking out, I saw my in-laws in the store. Dan's dad confirmed the find.

"They're a little smaller than the ones we had at Leaf Mountain," he said. After the purchase, I cracked one box for him to taste test. "Yeah!" he said. "These are Haystacks."

On the drive home, I ate a few. From the sugar rush, I understood why Dan's mom refused the offer. She said, "If I'm gonna eat something that sweet, I like a nut in it."

At home, I placed a Chocolate Drop in Dan's hand and said, "Your Haystack!"

As he took a bite, I grimaced,

"And you like that all that icky, sweet stuff?

He smirked, "I didn't say I liked it. I said: It's – Tradition!"

Perhaps a showing of "Fiddler on the Roof" is in order this Christmas. Maybe then, the good-old-days candy bags will truly become a thing of the past and we'll know why to Call the Whole Thing Off.

You say Potato...