You know what Santa got me for Christmas? A candy store called Big Top Candy Shop. It's less than a block from my house and is chock-full of all the sweets I love. But you know what? I'm generous. We can all share my present.
On the busy thoroughfare of South Congress, nestled between a hair salon and an antiques boutique, sits a little gem of nostalgia, a crimson-and-gold-striped candy store with a real soda counter with real hand-jerked sodas. Now, as a matter of personal record, I've tried the classic chocolate malt, the fabled egg cream, and the avant-garde chocolate-chip-cookie-dough-ice-cream-in-root-beer-float (a concoction of my own design that's surprisingly yummy), all three of which were silly in their delectability.
But do they only have sodas? Oh, no. The walls are lined with deliciousness, from hard-to-find Clark bars to the more mainstream 3 Musketeers, from bulk Jelly Belly beans to ... bacon-flavored toothpicks? (Apparently, they're big sellers, those toothpicks.)
Being a girl with a serious sweet tooth, this plethora of goodies would appeal to me with or without ambience, but lucky for me, I don't have to compromise. Big Top, as its name suggests, is styled after the old-fashioned circus, particularly the sideshow aspect. There's the vintage popcorn machine, the striking posters advertising the Alligator Man and the man with the world's strongest beard, and the wall-mounted trumpets and banjo. The only thing lacking is a seating area, but reliable rumor (if there is such a thing) has it that one is coming.
So if you have visions of sugarplums dancing in your heads, if your appetite is whetted by the Land of Sweets from The Nutcracker, then by all means, get yourself over to the Big Top and get your candy on.
