The following article refers to historical details that refer to violence, suicide, kidnapping, and sexual abuse.

For one month out of the year, bars and restaurants from the West "Ghost" to the East get into the Halloween spirit by dressing up and concocting all manner of eerie eats and spooky cocktails heavy on blood oranges, ghost peppers, and strawberry jelly "blood." For real horror-philes, there are even a few spots that do it year-round, such as New York's Jekyll and Hyde and The Haunted House Restaurant in Cleveland Heights.

However, numerous other establishments across the nation don't need to hang fake spiderwebs and set out plaster skulls as they come with a built-in spooky vibe, thanks to their resident revenants. Many of the restaurants on this list are, as you'd expect, older than dirt — what, after all, is the point of having a colonial-era tavern if you can't count on a few flickering lights, mysterious noises, and unexplained cold spots? Others, however, don't quite fit the stereotype: who'd expect a haunted pizza parlor, Chinese restaurant, or burger joint? And yet, as the famously haunted "Hamlet" once told his pal, the original "final boy," "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy" ...even a chain restaurant ridden with suburban specters.

Baltimore's Fells Point district has quite a colorful history, as it was once a bustling seaport filled with rowdy sailors and those looking to make a quick buck off them. These days, Fells Point's taverns tend to be more upscale, but the neighborhood does do a nice little side business in ghost tours. The memorably-named The Horse You Came In On is one must-visit stop on any such excursion. It's been in the bar business for nearly 250 years, operating under its current moniker since the 1970s (via YouTube).

In fact, The Horse claims to be the oldest continually-operating establishment of its type in the entire country — no, it did not shut down for Prohibition, but continued doing business in speakeasy mode. As bar manager Robert Napier once told WBALTV, "It has been around a lot of time. It's got a lot of history." Needless to say, the bar boasts the typical glasses shattering, lights turning on and off by themselves, and nervous employees who don't want to find themselves alone (or not so alone...) in the building. There is one particular spirit the bar likes to claim as its own, though: Baltimore's most famous native son, Edgar Allan Poe. It seems the Master of the Macabre may have had his final last call at The Horse (or whatever name it went by in the 19th century) before he tottered off down the street to rendezvous with the grim reaper.

While Charleston, South Carolina is another historic city with no shortage of ghosts, the haunted establishment, Poogan's Porch, only dates back to the U.S. Bicentennial. Well, the restaurant, that is — the building itself was constructed in 1891, which still makes it fairly recent as Charleston goes. Poogan, for whom the restaurant was named, was a fluffy white pup who didn't really belong to anyone in particular but liked to hang out on the porch of the house that would eventually be converted into the restaurant. By all accounts, the dog didn't mind too much when his place re-opened as an eatery (perhaps there were some tasty scraps in it for him). He spent a few happy years as a greeter in residence before passing away from what the restaurant reassures us were natural causes.

Poogan's spirit, however, still hangs out on that same porch, seemingly undeterred by the fact that table scraps are likely to pass right through his spectral body. He may have another ghost friend, though, a human one. As Kiawah River tells it, a woman named Zoe St. Amand, daughter of the original homeowners, passed away in 1954, but she, too, is sticking close to home. Visitors to the restaurant have reported her slamming doors, toppling glasses, and calling for the sister who predeceased her. Some have even seen her, and apparently, she seems to be a fairly normal-looking older woman, albeit one who's really into vintage fashion.

Once upon a time, in a cold and windy city on the shores of a very deep lake, there stood a little tavern with a dark and creepy past. It was built in the 1890s, complete with an upstairs brothel (the Victorians not being half the prudes they're made out to be). But then along came Prohibition, and the bar...stayed in business anyway. In fact, during that time, it became a favorite hangout of the North Side Gang, the Irish counterpart to Al Capone's Italian South Side mob. As Ghost City Tours tells it, the former group found its numbers diminished after the St. Valentine's Day Massacre, but the slain mobsters soon returned to their old haunt to do a little haunting of their own.

An even more sinister group moved into the tavern's basement in the '30s: the local chapter of the Hermetic Order of the Golden Dawn. One woman, anticipating the satanic panic of the '80s by half a century, claimed to have seen the group perform a human sacrifice, the victim of which still lingers on the premises in spectral form (via Ghost City Tours). The tavern has undergone several incarnations since then but today is a music venue, bar, and coffee shop known as the Golden Dagger. Its name pays homage to its shady past, referencing both the Golden Dawn and their ritual sacrificing, while the menu features cocktails with names like Mystic Margarita, Temple of the Moon, and Speakeasy.

While Country House has had several different Illinois locations over the years, the original one (which is the one with the ghost) is in Clarendon Hills. This restaurant opened in 1922 as what was described as a roadhouse, but no, the haunting has nothing to do with any Patrick Swayze-style violence. It seems, in fact, as if the first 50 years of the restaurant were fairly ghost-free, as the hauntings kicked off in 1974 during some remodeling. The spooky story began with shutters opening on their own, which naturally spooked the contractor. A couple of mediums were sent for, who determined that the restaurant was haunted by a young woman who died in the 1950s. Some questioning of the former staff then unearthed the sad tale of a girl who was dating one of the bartenders and died with her baby in a car crash (said to be deliberate), about half a mile from the restaurant.

Even after being identified, this unhappy phantom's been sticking around to bang on walls, move pots and pans, turn on the jukebox after closing hours, and, on occasion, appear to beckon from a window or stand in the bathroom door. (What is it about ghosts and bathrooms, anyway?) The baby's ghost might also be there, as it's been heard to cry. The spirits seem wary of ghost hunters, however, as it's said they won't make an appearance when anyone comes looking.

The Sérénité Restaurant not only has a name that evokes peace and harmony, but it also has a very admirable mission — to hire and train people in addiction recovery to find employment in the fine dining industry. In its former existence, however, this Cleveland eatery was anything but serene. It started as a stagecoach stop in 1858 and has been a brothel, inn, grocery store, and steakhouse over the years. Oh, and haunted. Very, very haunted.

Theresa's Haunted History of the Tri-State names three different ghosts known to frequent the premises of the restaurant back when it was operating as the Medina Steakhouse and Saloon. These include a woman named Anna, who died in 1895 while trying to put out a fire, a handyman named Frank Curtis, who hanged himself in a hallway on Christmas Eve, and a mysterious female known only as "M," who may be Anna's sister. While the management and menu may have changed along with the name, it seems that the specters may still linger on. Patrons of Sérénité have seen lights flickering, tables moving, and even ghostly manifestations. Restaurant owner Brandon Chrostowski has told Cleveland Magazine that "The mayor doesn't even come around, because he's afraid of the place," and he, too, acknowledges that "There's something in that damn place ... And, you know, late at night, you feel it."

With a name like Deadwood, you'd expect a few ghosts, and this South Dakota town doesn't disappoint. As per the South Dakota Department of Tourism, it may be the state's spookiest city, and the Fairmont Hotel and Oyster Bay Bar is one of its most haunted locations. While the thought of eating oysters in such a very landlocked state is kind of scary all on its own, for a truly terrifying experience, you'll need to book a 90-minute $20 ghost tour through this famously haunted former saloon and brothel. (Are all old brothels haunted, or are all haunted buildings former brothels? It's starting to seem kind of chicken-and-eggish.)

As to who's haunting the place, Only In Your State names three main ghosts. The only one with a name is Margaret Broadwater, a young woman most likely employed by the brothel who jumped out a window in 1907. The self-defenestration was apparently performed under the influence of alcohol, with the possible motive being that she was said to be pregnant at the time. The other two ghosts are men — one of them, the jealous boyfriend of another brothel employee, shot and killed one of his girlfriend's clients and then accidentally (but fatally) shot himself. There may also be a fourth ghost, a boy whose backstory is unknown, but he may have been born to a brothel worker back in the days when birth control methods tended to be illegal and ineffective.

The menu at The Sun Tavern is very up-to-the-minute, featuring no-doubt-seen-on-Instagram hipster gourmet fares such as sauteed brussels sprouts with house-smoked bacon, grilled flatbread bruschetta, and grilled watermelon salad. The front part of the building itself, however, dates back to 1741, and The Patriot Ledger reports that two of the tavern's resident ghosts are also from the 18th century. The Williamson sisters, Elizabeth and Mary, are young girls said to have died of scarlet fever and who mostly keep to the top level of the building. However, their voices (or at least one of theirs) have also been heard in the basement.

The main ghost, however, is a man named Lysander Walker, once dubbed the "Last Duxbury Hermit," although he may simply have been an agoraphobe or insufficiently mobile to leave his home. He died on the premises in 1928 by a self-inflicted gunshot — the site to this day has his death certificate on display — and several years later, his home was turned into a restaurant. The stories of Walker haunting the premises seem to date to the 1960s. Over the past half-century, he's been described as a pretty benign ghost (via The Sun Tavern). In fact, on one occasion, he may even have saved a choking diner by administering the Heimlich maneuver. Although mostly, he just sticks to lighting candles, walking through empty rooms, turning off lights, and similar ectoplasmic pranks.

The Jameson Tavern in Freeport, Maine is a place with some historic significance — it was built in 1779 and is said to have been the site where Maine's founders officially seceded from Massachusetts in 1820. You would think, then, that the place would be haunted by a bewigged, pipe-smoking politician, wouldn't you? But no, it seems Jameson's resident ghost is actually a mischievous little girl instead.

An article originally published in the "Community Leader" in 2004 and reprinted on the Jameson Tavern's website reveals that the ghost is named Emily, and she tragically passed away in a fire on the building's top floor (now the attic) at some time early in the 19th century. While it's always incredibly sad to hear of children dying decades before their time, child ghosts often tend to be of the not-so-scary variety, and Emily is no exception. She mostly just flits in and out, although, on at least one occasion, she's been known to play with a young restaurant guest. Occasionally she gets a bit naughty, but the worst she's ever done is toss a jar of toothpicks or drop pots and pans on the ground. For the most part, restaurant patrons and staff don't find Emily frightening but instead see her as quite a friendly little phantom.

Gettysburg, Pennsylvania may be one of the United States' most haunted cities, which stands to reason when you consider the fact that the battle fought there during the Civil War was the largest to take place in North America. HistoryNet tells us that over 7,000 soldiers lost their lives on those three days in July 1863, while many thousands more were injured or missing. The Farnsworth House, which today serves as a bed and breakfast as well as a restaurant, offers a menu with an ecumenical mix of Pennsylvania Dutch cuisine and southern specialties like spoonbread and goober pea (peanut) soup. It also has a nice sideline in ghost tours, serving as the starting point for expeditions throughout the extra-spooky neighborhood. Additionally, The Farnsworth House hosts an excursion that stays within its own haunted walls.

During the Battle of Gettysburg, the inn's building served as a base for Confederate troops as well as a makeshift field hospital. It also seems to have been a target of sorts, as the walls contain no less than 135 bullet holes. Civil War Ghosts notes that inside the establishment are said to be 16 different ghosts. A number of these are soldiers, of course — the most active of whom is often heard playing a Jew's harp. There's also an 8-year-old boy called Jeremy, a midwife who sometimes tucks B&B guests into their beds, and a 19th-century cook who doesn't seem to approve of the restaurant's 21st-century staff.

While Jerome, Arizona is often described as a "ghost town," this doesn't mean that it's deserted. Instead, the former mining town is now bustling with antique shops, wineries, art galleries, and other accouterments of the upscale tourist trade. Jerome's real draw, however, may be its reputation for being haunted, as the town offers ghost tours covering numerous spooky homes and hotels as well as a phantom-infested hospital and high school. You can even dine in an eerie eatery, that being Jerome's own Haunted Hamburger.

The current owners of Haunted Hamburger learned of the resident spooks when they started renovating an abandoned building once known as Jerome Palace into a restaurant. The ghosts, it seems, have a thing for hammers, so they kept swiping this particular tool, although they've also been known to slam doors, toss cans, and turn on the water. Although there doesn't seem to be much information available about these specters, Map Spirits describes them as a tall woman, a young girl, and a mysterious, shadowy entity. No word as to what's up with the whole hammer time thing, although at this point, perhaps they're sticking around for the food — the menu features Ghostly and Haunted Burgers, a Haunted Chicken sandwich, and drinks called the Hauntarita and Haunted Bloody.

If you're having a hard time swallowing the concept of a haunted hamburger joint, you're really going to flip over the idea of a spooky fondue chain. Seriously, though, the Melting Pot location in Littleton, Colorado, actually does seem to be the site of paranormal activity. While the Littleton Melting Pot web page makes no reference to the hauntings (corporate would probably frown upon such a thing), it does note that the building it's located in is historic, so it seems the phantoms long predate the fondue.

As Haunted Colorado explains, Littleton's Melting Pot started out long, long ago as Carnegie Library, and later in its life, it served as a jail. One of the ghosts seems to be that of an inmate killed on the premises, but paranormal investigators SpiritPI, speaking with the Littleton Independent, have debunked that idea. SpiritPl claims that their research shows no inmates, police officers, or restaurant workers have ever died on the premises. They have, however, documented ample evidence (EMF readings and the like) of what appears to be otherworldly activity on the Melting Pot premises and speculate that it may have to do with the presence of the Platte River close by. As they explain it, apparently, ghosts are partial to bodies of water. Who knows, though — maybe they just like fondue, too.

While the last couple of hauntings we've discussed have been a little light on details, we now turn to a ghost story that is as well fleshed-out as the tale of two ectoplasmic beings can be. Mesilla, New Mexico's Double Eagle, which dates back to 1849, has been painstakingly preserved and restored to retain its antique ambiance. A ghost story, then, was practically de rigueur, so the restaurant owners went digging for one and were rewarded with the tragic tale of star-crossed lovers Armando and Inez.

They say Armando was the son of the Maes family, who first owned the private home that would eventually become the Double Eagle. He fell in love with a servant — Inez — but his mother disapproved of the romance and kicked her out of the house. Inez snuck back to visit her sweetie, but Armando's enraged mamá stabbed her to death with scissors and then accidentally dealt her son a fatal wound as well as he tried to stop the attack. The lovers both died but later returned to haunt the old place, of course — or else there would be no story to tell. They're particularly active in the Carlotta Salon, where they met their end, mostly sticking to standard ghost stuff like breaking glasses, moving tables, and whispering. Oddly enough, they also appear to have some weight to them as they've left a matching pair of ghostly butt-prints in two upholstered chairs.

In Milwaukee's Walker's Point neighborhood, a neon ghost in the window of Shaker's Cigar Bar marks the site of one of America's most haunted watering holes. In addition to serving up cigars, drinks, and a full dinner menu, Shaker's is also the starting point for several area ghost tours, three of which take place on the premises. The original expedition takes an hour, while the 2.0 version is 90 minutes and includes an attempt to contact the spirits. The 3.0 version, however, is a three-hour ghost hunt from midnight to 3 a.m. and provides digital voice recorders, infrared thermometers, and EMF detectors.

One of Shaker's most famous revenants is Molly, an 18-year-old girl who worked in the brothel housed on Shaker's top floor (because, of course). Spectrum News 1 reports that she was murdered, dismembered, and set on fire — her charred bones were found inside the wall. Other skeletal remains have been discovered under the concrete in the basement, which is where they remain — they were detected via ground penetrating radar but never unearthed. It's thought that these bones might belong to victims of the Capone brothers, who owned Shaker's back during Prohibition. (As to what Al and company were doing so far off their usual turf, Milwaukee's actually only a 2-hour drive from Chicago.) One other ghost of unknown provenance is an 8-year-old girl, Elizabeth. Her favorite game is terrorizing the bathroom shy by opening stall doors in the women's restroom.

Even in a legendary foodie paradise like New Orleans, Brennan's stands above the rest. This historic restaurant may be best known as the birthplace of Bananas Foster, and it also claims to have created the Bloody Bull, a beef bouillon-spiked Bloody Mary that still features prominently on its brunch menu. What diners may not know, however, is just how haunted the pink palace truly is despite its way-too-pretty-to-be-spooky décor.

While Brennan's restaurant dates back to 1946 (via Brennan's), the building it has occupied since 1956 dates back to the late 18th century, and so does one of its resident ghosts. New Orleans Ghosts says that Monsier LaFleur, who haunts the Morphy Room (formerly the Red Room), killed his wife and son — and later died by suicide — in that location and has been known to manifest in the form of cold spots or even a shadowy specter. 

The other phantoms are quite a bit friendlier, though. Former Brennan's sommelier Herman Funk, now deceased (more or less), haunts the wine cellar and helps out servers by pointing out bottles that patrons might enjoy. One-time star chef Paul Blangé prefers to hang out in the kitchen or dining room and seems particularly pleased whenever anyone orders his signature dessert, Bananas Foster.

If you or anyone you know is having suicidal thoughts, please call the National Suicide Prevention Lifeline​ by dialing 988 or by calling 1-800-273-TALK (8255)​.

The White Horse Tavern in Manhattan's West Village has been in business since the 1880s and originally attracted a blue-collar clientele (longshoremen, back in the day). In the 1950s, however, it got trendy with the artsy crowd and is now best known for attracting a who's who of 20th-century celebs, including Jack Kerouac, Bob Dylan, and Jim Morrison. However, its most famous former patron is Dylan Thomas, the Welsh poet who took his last drink there before staggering off to die (much as Edgar Allan Poe did at the aforementioned The Horse You Rode In On).

Off the Grid notes that even death didn't mean that Thomas was ready for last call. It seems he keeps returning to his favorite watering hole to wet his ectoplasmic whistle. The poet does seem to get around a bit, though. Gothamist notes that he's also been known to manifest at the Chelsea Hotel, where he resided when not popping up at the White Horse. The latter, however, is likely to be a favorite "haunt" of his, as the National Paranormal Association reports that a favorite table where he once liked to write is typically found moved out of alignment and into his preferred position every morning. Well, what more would you expect from a poet who rallied against going gentle into that good night? Perhaps this table-turning is his way of raging — raging against the dying of the light.

How to create a haunted restaurant: The most important steps involve starting a restaurant, dying there, and returning to visit from beyond the grave. However, it might help to also name the place "The White Horse Tavern." Yes, there are not one, but two such establishments on this list, both very haunted. Rather than a deceased 20th-century poet, however, the 17th-century White Horse in Newport, Rhode Island boasts the ghosts of a former patron and possibly a one-time proprietor.

The White Horse Tavern was built as a home in 1652 and converted into a tavern in 1673. While it was once owned by an early 18th-century pirate (true story!), he isn't thought to be haunting the place. Instead, one of the ghosts may be that of a man who mysteriously died after overnighting there. HauntedHouses.com says he appears in the dining room and upstairs men's bathroom and has been known to bother female guests (presumably not in the latter location). Another, less-visible spirit is one that the New England Folklore blog thinks might be a former owner since they seem to take quite an interest in the inn's day-to-day operations. There's also one more female entity, perhaps that of a girl who worked at the hotel at the same time the first ghost met his end. She, herself, caught smallpox (although not from him) and died while in quarantine.

After hearing the stories of a burger place that goes boo and a chain restaurant serving up ghosts along with its cheese fondue, a haunted pizza parlor doesn't seem like a stretch. Portland's Old Town has a backstory that sounds pretty familiar. It occupies an old building — in this case, Portland's former Merchant Hotel — and that structure (as you might have guessed) had a sort of brothel operation. While you'd think this was the kind of life that anyone would be glad to escape from, even if only by death, apparently, some unhappy former sex workers feel compelled to stick around and share their stories. This seems to be the case with the pizzeria's spook-in-residence.

According to Old Town, the ghost here — who has her own #MeToo story — is named Nina, a girl kidnapped and sold into the oldest profession. (Yet another "fun" fact about Old Town is that underneath it are a series of tunnels where early 20th century sailors were Shanghaied into unwilling service.) Nina was going to blow the whistle on the sex trade to some visiting missionaries, but she ended up at the bottom of an elevator shaft for her trouble. 

Today, she mostly flits around wearing a black dress and smelling all perfume-y, which must make an interesting contrast with tomato sauce and garlic. She doesn't seem too upset now, though, so perhaps she's spent all these years just waiting for someone to offer her a slice.

If you or anyone you know has been a victim of sexual assault, help is available. Visit the Rape, Abuse & Incest National Network website or contact RAINN's National Helpline at 1-800-656-HOPE (4673).

Old writers never die. Apparently, they just change genres and turn themselves into...ghost stories? Well, except for Edgar Allan Poe, since he was already working in that area. Dashiell Hammett, however, may have specialized in stories of murder and mayhem, but his tales didn't typically involve a paranormal element. Still, one story about the writer that's told at his favorite restaurant, John's Grill, is of the spooky sort. As a server once told the San Francisco Chronicle (via SFist), Sam Spade's creator has been known to show up in the third-floor dining room at 11 a.m., just in time for an early lunch seating.

So what would Hammett's ghost order if he could consume food? In "The Maltese Falcon," Sam Spade visits the restaurant and dines on chops, a baked potato, and sliced tomatoes. The shout-out not only granted John's Grill its status as a designated Literary Landmark, but the meal's been enshrined on the restaurant's menu as Sam Spade's Lamb Chops. Is this what draws Hammett's hungry specter back, or is he instead there to protest the fact that he only gets a menu mention under the name of his favorite character — while exercise guru, Jack LaLanne, has a seafood salad with his own moniker? Too bad LaLanne's ghost is a no-show as far as we know, since it would be fun to see them square off in a battle of the tough dead guys.

The Lemp Mansion Restaurant & Inn has long been known as a hotbed of paranormal activity. In 1980, Life magazine declared it to be one of the most haunted spots in the country (via Ozy), and it's been featured in more ghost-hunting shows and Halloween news features than you can shake a divining rod at. So what makes the mansion so spooky? For once, there's no brothel or drunken authors involved. Instead, the Lemp Mansion's story is one of unrelenting tragedy, generation after generation.

If ever there was a family that was well and truly cursed (besides the Kennedys), it was the Lemps — St. Louis beer barons who were millionaires by the middle of the 19th century. Starting right around the turn of the following century, things really headed south. Not only did the family lose their fortune, but several of them also took their own lives. (There is also a sad story of a boy with Down syndrome forced to live out his life locked in an attic.) After the last Lemp died in 1949, the place was turned into a boarding house. Naturally, no one wanted to live in a home with mysterious cold spots, objects randomly flying through the air, voices in empty rooms, and the odd apparition or two. However, after all that death and haunting, the Lemp Mansion eventually found new life as St. Louis' spookiest tourist attraction, offering weekly ghost tours and an annual Halloween blowout.

One of the least likely pairings between ghost and venue is that of the Chinese-Japanese restaurant and karaoke bar known as Wok and Roll. However, we doubt the specter is a big fan of sushi since, at the time she was alive, raw fish was something you'd only consume under the most desperate of circumstances (probably a good idea in those pre-refrigeration days). Nor, by all accounts, does the ghost sing karaoke, although Scary DC says she's been known to mutter, whisper, and cry. She's got plenty to moan about, too, as she's well-known to history (but not in a good way).

So what famous phantom stalks Wok and Roll? The ghost is that of notorious Civil War villainess Mary Surratt. According to Ghosts of DC, back in the 1860s, this building — which now stands in DC's Chinatown — was a boarding house owned by the Confederate-sympathizing Surratt. Here, she and co-conspirators such as John Wilkes Booth met secretly to plot the assassination of Abraham Lincoln. Post-assassination, Surratt earned the distinction of being the first woman to receive a federal death sentence. Today her boarding house is listed on the National Register of Historic Places (via Library of Congress), so its exterior is something she'd still recognize. However, as to the interior...well, DC Ghosts says she's still wandering around the second floor, but she's likely rather bemused by what's happening beneath her incorporeal feet.

Even though our role as a trick-or-treater might look more like a chaperone these days, we'll no doubt be sampling some of the bite-size candies collected by the kiddos in our lives while poaching a few of the sweet treats from the bag of candy we'll be wielding behind our door for the spooky holiday. After all, who doesn't love to savor the spoils of a good Halloween haul?

Last year, American households spent nearly $3 billion on bags of alluringly wrapped fructose, according to Statista. And with Covid-19 restrictions easing across the U.S. (and the recent availability of vaccines for children as young as six months old), this year's Halloween could signal the mother of all sugar rushes for kids across the country.

But as we all know, not every Halloween offering plays like a Billboard hit on our palates. So, we decided to rank 50 of the most recognizable Halloween candies to help you avoid the duds haunting candy pails everywhere.

Bland and downright grainy, the Hershey's Kiss is the "have a great summer!" of Halloween candy. It's intentionally wishy-washy and wrapped in a chipper little foil package to try to distract from its less-than-impressive size in a Halloween candy haul. These little guys are always the last to hang around in whatever vessel we use as a treat stash until we ultimately cave to eating one in a moment of sweet-toothed desperation only to find that their milk chocolate exterior has aged to a gray, gauzy-looking crust.

We would place this tri-colored candy dead last, but we wanted to allow some grace considering that, unlike most treats on this list, candy corn has become a creation that's specifically associated with the Halloween holiday. Although, if you look into the strange history of candy corn, it wasn't originally intended for purely autumnal enjoyment. Despite whatever nostalgia we could muster for these triangular trick-or-treat terrorists, it's ultimately an awful little concoction whose waxy texture corrupts any caramel, marshmallow, or vanilla flavor it's designed to taste like.

As a kid, we were fooled by Smarties — this pale-complexioned little candy comes in a roll of multiple bites as opposed to one large bar, leading one to think that they're getting more bang for their sugar bucks. But, now grown, we appreciate and acknowledge the rule of "quality over quantity" and realize that Smarties are nothing more than sugary chalk whose flavors are even less perceptible than their wan coloring. This is the only candy we can think of that would likely be better ground up into dust a la Fun Dip or Pixie Stix rather than cramped into this pill-like formation that does taste like much.

Typically, we'd welcome the inclusion of gum in our potpourri of Halloween candy; however, the gum most common in a trick-or-treat haul is always this powder-pink-colored, hard-as-a-rock disaster. Dubble Bubble basically love bombs you with an intoxicatingly sweet burst of admittedly good bubblegum flavor. It then retracts into a stiff ball the moment you give in to its charms. It's perhaps the only candy we resent on this list because of its two-faced nature — we bet it's a Gemini. 

Dum-Dums, the dime-sized lollipop we associate most with visits to the bank and old-school doctors' offices, is so ubiquitous it hardly even feels like a proper treat. Plus, it's a lollipop whose flavors seem to wish it was any other kind of sweet (see: root beer, bubble gum, cotton candy, cream soda, and even birthday cake). But no matter the option, Dum-Dums remain a middling lollipop lacking any appeal for reasonable human beings past age 10.

SweeTarts remind us of us Smarties with a Manic Panic dye job — it's every bit as chalky, but the sly addition of citric acid perks up these pastel pucks for a couple of chews before it plummets back into a dull, mouth-drying gulp of unsatisfying powder. Blue punch, cherry, grape, lemon, and green apple comprise the flavors encased in a single roll of SweetTarts, but their individual tastes are practically negligible as the overall texture overrides any slight distinctions in flavor.

No matter how you eat them, Pez breaks apart in an unsatisfying way — suck on one and it crumbles into gummy little chunks, or take a bite and suffer through the sharp shards it breaks into. Either route feels punitive considering Pez remains the only candy that asks you to own (or buy) an accessory in order to enjoy them. Sure you could rip open the spool of candy and eat them directly from the pack, but everyone knows that the sole thrill of Pez is yanking the individual candies from the dispenser.

These double-duty lollipops (is it a hard candy or a chocolate chew?) belong in an elementary teacher's emergency stash for when they have to resort to bribing kids into good behavior. Otherwise, Tootsie Pops are a little abomination that dies in the bottom of our tote bag amongst bobby pins and cookie crumbs because the prospect of suffering through a mediocre hard candy that will ultimately resolve in a soggy, sucked-on Tootsie Roll is unappealing even if we have the good fortune of encountering an orange Tootsie Pop — their best flavor.

Despite the fanfare around the Caramel Apple Pop, we have always found this sticky confection a confounding mess of clashing flavors. Unlike actual caramel apples, these disappointing, disk-like lollies are rock hard through and through with no textural interplay between the haphazardly poured caramel layer and the cloying green apple center under its syrupy coat. Invented in 1995, Caramel Apple Pops reminds us that not all relics from the "Saved by the Bell" era are worth a nostalgic revisit.

Despite having possibly the best name in the candy aisle, Spree can't decide if it's a hard or soft candy — instead, it picks no side and pleases no one. The little frisbee-shaped treats sport a varnish just a little too thick to easily bite through but once sucked on for a couple of seconds, it quickly gives way to a coarse, chewy center whose flavors are indecipherable from one another (that's because the specific fruit flavors exist only in the hard veneer). At best, Sprees remind us of why we love a tube of fruity Mentos, and at worst (their grape flavor) recall a bottle of cough syrup.

Though possessing a layered origin story with plenty of untold truths, Whoppers feel like the first draft of a great novel, lacking some essential elements that could elevate the malt balls to the realm of coveted candies like Reese's Peanut Butter Cups or Butterfingers. While nothing about a Whopper strikes us as particularly offensive, no aspect of the chocolate orbs draws us to them, and it ends up feeling more like a worthy addition to a cup of fro-yo or an ice cream sundae rather than a stand-alone candy.

Nerds might be the biggest coup in candy history. These shards of sugar-coated, well, sugar, seem like candy leftovers that've been repurposed and repackaged into meaningless little scraps. But since its 1983 introduction to the market, it's sustained a following large enough to grow its mini-empire and introduce new items like Nerd Ropes (what?), Nerds Big Chews (we can't even), and Nerd Gummy Clusters (ew), even though their flagship candy reminds us of the dregs of a box of cereal.

Discounting its nude cousin, the Payday, Baby Ruth marks a low point in the field of candy bars. Though all the elements are all there (chocolate, peanuts, caramel, nougat), there's something mismeasured and misplaced in their alignment holding the Baby Ruth bar back from a homerun. Maybe it's the overreliance on nougat as its centerfold or the placement of the caramel in a ring around the center of the bar, either way, Baby Ruth strikes out.

The abundance of Twizzlers around Halloween time just reminds us of how scarce mini-sizes of their far superior competitor — Red Vines — are to come by, and we can't help but resent these waxy tubes. Twizzler's glossy sheen hints at their plastic-y texture and taste. For a second, it's as if you've bitten into a child's toy rather than an edible snack. We don't understand the Twizzlers vs Red Vines debate — between these two crimson, pipe-shaped snacks, we remain firmly on team Red Vine.

We think of Tootsie Rolls as something of an invisible line in the sand when it comes to the pantheon of Halloween candy — if there's an item we like less than this little log of chewy chocolate, we know that we're in possession of a subpar sweet. This baseline addition to the candy cannon skates by — like a lazy student — by simply doing the bare minimum without attempting to impress. Furthermore, the range of size and shape of the Tootsie Roll (small log, long skinny log, and thick, segmented log) feels arbitrary and unnecessary for such a nondescript treat.

Like many candies with an assortment of flavors within their package, Runts suffers some extreme highs and equally extreme lows seeing as how not every fruity member of its pack is created equal. Admittedly cute, Runts roll onto your palm in miniature shapes representing their assigned flavor — green apple (previously lime), orange, grape, strawberry, and the somewhat infamous, banana. And while we don't want to get dragged into the online fracas surrounding the yellow addition to the Runts pack, we will say its artificial flavoring weighs down the average of its fellow box mates and forces us to sort (and toss) any bananas we come across.

Maybe because M&M's are basically everywhere — from the grocery store check-out and movie theater concession stand to the topping bar of a frozen yogurt stand — their novelty has waned and so has our reflex to reach for their brown bag. Though we have no real problem with the candy-coated, chocolate cylinders, we're also not moved to vouch for or against them. However obnoxious M&M's anthropomorphized mascots are, the brand is one of the only candies that dependably put out successful side hustles like coconut, crunch, and mint variations of the original.

A candy that improves immensely with a couple of hours in the freezer, we have to tip our hats to the gooey caps of arresting minty flavor. Sure, you can't hold Junior Mints in your bare hand for longer than three seconds without having it succumb to your body temperature, but it's also one of the few candies you can toss in your mouth during a date at the movies and feel better about your breath afterward.

In a candy aisle of increasingly bombastic flavors, packaging, and gimmicks, we have to hand it to the York Peppermint Pattie for whispering to us over cacophonous concoctions like Reese's Cups with Pretzel, smoothie-flavored Skittles, and the ever-growing compendium of KitKat spinoffs. York Peppermint Pattie knows its lane, and the thinly coated puck of hardened peppermint cream isn't for those seeking a narcotic hit of fructose but rather a refreshing respite from the gaudy droll of the candy aisle.

Growing more and more irrelevant with each passing year, Pixie Stix always struck us as only a severe candy addict's vice. Encased in a flimsy, paper tube that threatens to decompose at even the slightest dampening, Pixie Sticks forgo the pretense of savoring or even pausing to enjoy a sweet snack and instead nearly forces you to mainline its sugary dust the moment you tear through one of their pipes. We like it only because it makes us feel a little bad — like Sarah Michelle Gellar in Cruel Intentions. Otherwise, it's a waste of space that risks snapping in half and forever lining the bottom of your bag in its powder.

One of the few candies that start as one genre of treat (lollipop) and finish as another (gum), Blow Pops succeed in both of its missions and make one of the best-tasting lollies on the market. If you bite them at just the right moment, you can infuse the chewable center with sharp bits of their candy-coated essence. We're partial to Blow Pop's strawberry and sour apple flavors, but even their harder-to-pull-off tastes like watermelon and grape manage to satisfy.

Hot Tamales boast a spicy cinnamon flavor in soft, candy-coated tablets. Like the superior (but hard to come by) cinnamon bear, Hot Tamales aren't for the faint of heart and exist for old souls who don't solely look to the candy aisle for chocolate or fruity confections. Though cinnamon candy may be on the decline, Hot Tamales have weathered the storm better than Red Hots, the rare cinnamon Jolly Rancher, and Fireballs.

Ring Pops and candy necklaces understand that, to a child's mind, the most flashy bling imaginable is an eye-popping rock of wearable candy. But unlike candy necklaces, Ring Pops offer vivid flavors (strawberry, blue raspberry, watermelon, sour cherry, and berry blast) cut into gems worthy of J. Lo's digits. Though conceding that the functionality of wearing one's dessert as bling might not be the most convenient method of indulging, we respect the 1980-invented lollipop more than most.

Jolly Ranchers, named to evoke a "friendly, western company" (via Hersheyland.com), is a Colorado-born treat that still dominates the hard candy corner of the market. While most fruit-centric confections on shelves today fall firmly in the chewy camp, Jolly Rancher's easy-to-choke-on fragments harken back to an earlier time (they were first brought to market in 1949) when penny candies were all the rage. While we will never understand watermelon's status as the most popular Jolly Rancher flavor, we stand by the remaining fruity varieties.

It doesn't matter if you taste the peanuts or the chocolate first, Mr. Goodbar is an understated classic Coco Chanel would approve of. In a candy landscape overcrowded with chocolate bars (see: Nutrageous), Mr. Goodbar keeps a slow and steady pace, never overestimating the number of ingredients its audience expects to bite into. Even their golden-yellow packaging has undergone modest tweaks in rebranding since the bar's 1925 release, reflecting the candy's laid-back approach.

Invented back in 1928, Milk Duds are now most associated with movie-theater concession stands. But the nearly centennial-aged candy has always placated the urge to reach for a sweet snack without having to commit to an entire brick of a candy bar. Milk Duds are non-uniform, oblong caramels enrobed in creamy milk chocolate. Yes, they give our jaw a little bit of a workout, but its charms are worth the challenge.

Though they market themselves as a "taffy," the flat belts of flavored sugar known as Airheads deliver a little jolt of fruit to the tongue with a pleasing, easy-to-chew mouthfeel. The 1985 hit candy with a red balloon mascot has ascended to a new class of candy royalty and should stud every bag of Halloween loot. While we were shocked to hear about the origins of their beloved mystery flavor, we have even more appreciation for the candy knowing the resourceful way they repurpose scraps.

Truly hailing from Sweden, Swedish Fish appeals to both kid and adult tastebuds alike — they're tasteful in both shape and texture but still packed with plenty of sweetness. A bag of Swedish Fish is a crowd-pleaser that's rare to find in the category of fruity candies. Perhaps because Swedish Fish apes fruit that's exotic for American candy audiences (lingonberry), the classic crimson treat tastes like no other berry-infused sweet on the shelves.

These old-timey gumdrops may not be the most popular sweet, but their bell-shaped gobs of cherry, lime, lemon, orange, and strawberry still please sophisticated candy consumers unconcerned with the whims of fads and fake flavors (like "birthday cake"). Smartly named and tastefully packaged, Dots transcend time (they were invented in 1945), remaining a tried-and-true classic amidst today's dayglow-colored marketplace. As a side note, Dots might be the only candy whose sounds within their box excite us.

The absolute edgelord of the candy world, Pop Rocks were a happy mistake invented in 1956 after a failed attempt to conceive an instant soft drink backfired and instead created these pebbles of snapping, carbon dioxide-laden candies (via Science World). Though briefly discontinued in the 1980s due to the public's erroneous belief that the confection was potentially dangerous, Pop Rock's hiatus proved brief as these satchels of sweets still grace the candy aisle today.

Essentially a Snickers bar sans peanuts, the Milky Way Bar dates all the way back to 1923 but remains celebrated to this day due to its undeniable appeal. Simply a band of nougat drizzled in caramel and sheathed in milk chocolate, Milky Way is as dependable as an all-black outfit or a pair of Converse sneakers but hover just below a handful of bars we hold a more sentimental fondness for.

Though Reese's Pieces rose to fame thanks to a little help from an infamous scene in Steven Spielberg's 1982 release of his family classic "E.T.," the tri-color candy proved to be more than a movie tie-in fad and remains a favorite amongst trick-or-treaters and home cooks alike. Whether you're looking to amplify an ice cream sundae or simply want to keep a packet in your stash of sweets, Reese's Pieces — like the similarly shaped M&M's — are a versatile treat for many occasions.

Charleston Chews remind us of wearing socks with sandals — they really shouldn't work, but somehow do. The clashing tides of milk chocolate and tough, flavored taffy come together in harmony despite the flavor odds. We're partial to the powder-pink strawberry bar by a landslide (also available in chocolate and vanilla) but respect the polarizing taffy-centered chocolate bar for taking risks with some controversial textural combos.

Borrowing its name from the 1844 novel by Alexandre Dumas, 3 Musketeers originally came in three segments with differing flavors back in 1932 — vanilla, chocolate, and strawberry — not the single slab of nougat produced today (via Old Timey Candy). However, during WWII, the tri-flavored candy became too expensive to produce, and Mars Inc. was forced to cut costs by slicing the flavors in thirds. Today, this understated, whipped, vanilla nougat bar is still shielded in a fine layer of milk chocolate and wrapped in an eye-catching silver casing as regal as its namesake.

Though we love a Mounds, we understand why some folks find coconut overly saccharine and reminiscent of sunscreen. However, we've always been believers in shredded coconut candy. Not only does the tropical fruit contribute a crunchy consistency, it also adds a subdued fruity, fibrous note to a category of candy dominated by caramel, peanuts, nougat, and peanut butter. Technically Almond Joy's predecessor (it was created 26 years earlier), Mounds has come into its own and surprisingly boasts darker chocolate than Almond Joy.

Some of our favorite snacks come with the inclusion of coconut shreds — Girl Scout's Samoas, macaroon cookies, and even coconut shrimp — and Almond Joy is no exception. These slightly tropical little confections include a studded row of whole almonds along their coconut belly before being doused in milk chocolate which helps them edge out their predecessor, Mounds, by just a hair (or should we say coconut shred) thanks to its crunchier texture.

We agree with Elaine from "Seinfeld" and believe Jujyfruits are worth upending a hospital emergency room visit. These candies date back all the way to 1920 and are the "fruits" of a German confectioner's labor (via Candy Favorites). Though we will never forgive or forget the removal of the black licorice flavor or the swap for lime in place of mint back in 1999 (via Universal Dork), we remain faithful to this throwback though thick and thin, no matter how much we miss their non-fruity inclusions.

Crunch, though it first appeared in 1938, still feels incredibly current. Its longevity might be attributed to several fruitful offshoots such as Crunch Bar ice cream (and ice cream bites) and Buncha Crunch, but their continued prevalence could also be due to the indisputable greatness of marrying hardened chocolate with popped rice. Even the silver foil Crunch uses to cloak the chocolate bar, since it's extra thin and audibly rustles as you unwrap the bar, anticipates this onomatopoeia-ic inspiration.

Even though their esoteric television ads resonate as a little try-hard for us, we still firmly enjoy tasting the rainbow with a bag of Skittles any chance we get. One of the only candies that allow you to toss a random handful of flavors into your mouth and still have a dependably gratifying experience, Skittles represents a sort of cultural turning point between decidedly "old-timey" candies and the contemporary classics. First appearing in 1974, Skittles serves as Generation X's optimistic appeal to the candy market, and we're here for every single flavor. (Though we're endlessly curious about the UK's black currant deviation from the bag's purple pieces.

A nearly erased inclusion to the candy canon, the Bit-O-Honey teeters on the cusp of soft-taffy but the tenacious consistency of the honey-laden chew (complemented by fine bits of almond) makes the 1924 confection distinctive from the long catalog of softer sweets found in Halloween pails. But what we love most about the nearly forgotten Bit-O-Honey is its ardent devotion to exploring an ingredient as simple and stupifying as honey as the headliner for a mass-produced candy.

If there's a candy bar that can stand as a representative for all other candy bars, it would be Snickers. This little brick of chocolate surrounds impeccably measured quantities of caramel, salty peanuts, and nougat. Allegedly named after a racehorse, the candy first came onto the scene in 1930 and it remains relevant today thanks both to strong marketing campaigns and the bar's indisputable greatness. While other candy bars might have a section of our hearts by a slight margin, we're never disappointed to see a brown Snickers wrapper in our Halloween haul.

Starburst is like currency for anyone under the age of 12, but their sustained popularity among adults proves there's something besides just a pure sugar high in this chewy pack of fruity baubles. Like most, we prefer the pink strawberry-inspired Starburst to the rest, but the remaining red cherry, orange, and lemon Starburst cadre always get unwrapped as well. But even the newer additions to their lineup — tropical, sour, very berry, and FaveReds — are all worth a whirl, leaving us to send our heartfelt condolences to the Starburst-loving population in Australia.

We love a candy that truly believes we might have the self-restraint to only eat half of the contents of its package. Twix's thin twin candy bars are notably built on a platform on shortbread cookies before being finished with extra-gooey caramel and, of course, a coating of chocolate. Launched in the midst of the swinging '60s (1967 specifically), Twix was in the UK but didn't land on American soil until nearly the close of the '70s. The Twix bar is still a relatively young addition to the candy aisle and every grocery and convenience store is stronger with its inclusion.

Even though we see the Japanese candy Hi-Chews on more shelves than the Now and Laters of our youth, we view the two chewy treats as equals and even sometimes prefer the slight bite of sour flavor a classic Now and Later hides behind its colorful tiles. The genius behind these taffy squares lies in their innovation of a "delayed flavor release," according to Snack History, a tactic that surprises the consumer with an extra burst of intense tang seconds after they've begun to chew.

The papillae of our tongue are goners whenever we spot the sunshine yellow sheen of a bag of Sour Patch Kids. We just can't resist sucking the citric acid off each one of these people-shaped candies. Originally marketed as multi-colored little Martians in an effort to appeal to the cultural fascination with UFOs, the candy rebranded in the 1980s in an attempt to capitalize on the Cabbage Patch Doll mania, according to Candy Favorites. No matter their form, the lemon, lime, berry, orange, and more recent blue raspberry flavors satisfy every criterion for our candy cravings.

We know how polarizing black licorice is today, but we think of the Good & Plenty as more of a classic black-and-white movie than a rotary phone — a timeless but oft-overlooked candy rather than an outdated one. Good n' Plenty, introduced all the way back in 1893, is one of the most historied candies in America. These white-and-flamingo pink oblong trifles are like sugar-encrusted pills of stiff, black licorice and are the medication we need to get us through the day.

The iconic KitKat bar has graced shelves since 1935, but its fame continues to grow as the confection morphs into wild, even initially off-putting flavors in other countries such as Baked Sweet Potato, Rum Raisin, and Wasabi (as seen on Mental Floss). But it's the original wafer cookie, layered with cocoa liquor, leftover KitKats bits, and covered in a paper-thin layer of milk chocolate, that lives rent-free in the cravings department of our brain.

Word to the wise: Avoid a Butterfinger while driving or while wearing white. But on all other occasions, Bart Simpson's favorite candy bar deserves a revisit. The candy encases a brittle peanut butter mixture that's swaddled in milk chocolate and remains unparalleled as far as mouthfeel. Not only does the candy make the absolute best Blizzard you can buy at Dairy Queen, but the bars (in any size) improve after an overnight visit to the freezer. But no matter the canvas or application, we're devoted to the messy charm of the 1923 classic.

Reese's knows how strong Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are — it produces these classic ridged, flat cups in a variety of permutations: mini-cups, big cups, Halloween pumpkins (that sport no ridges at all), and other shapes correlating with seasonal holidays (Christmas trees, hearts, Easter eggs, etc.). That's because it's aware of how thirsty we all remain for that ingenious balance of sweet and salt the peanut butter cup flawlessly delivers. As far as chocolate goodies go, Reese's cups (in any form) get sorted to the top of our hierarchy and will forever remain a candy worth trading for.

The champion of any Halloween haul or candy aisle will always be Haribo Gold Bears. These supremely toothsome tiny bears dominate the gummy market, leaving both Black Forest and Trolli gummy creations in their dust. While we know and love nearly the entirety of the Haribo catalog, a special place in our hearts has been carved out for our first exposure to the Goldbear (widely referred to as gummy bears). The pineapple (white), strawberry (green), lemon (lemon), orange, and raspberry (red) bears are pleasurably tough. If you can manage to get your hands on a mini bag of Goldenbears, you're in luck — their slightness seems to increase the density of the individual bears. But no matter which bag you snag, just know you landed the king of Halloween candy.