The Rittenhouse Review

A Philadelphia Journal of Politics, Finance, Ethics, and Culture

Sunday, February 15, 2004  

Hunting for Mallo Cups

Okay, so kill me, kill me now. Just an hour ago I went on a crazed candy binge, or should I say, a candy-buying binge.

It’s not my fault. Blame the doorman, or the doorperson, the kind woman who is strangely assigned to “man” the front desk, by herself, at night and even late at night.

This isn’t a bad neighborhood, mind you, it’s a good neighborhood, but it’s also a weird neighborhood, and I worry about her sitting down there alone.

Anyway, an hour ago I went out for a pack of cigarettes and before leaving the building I struck up a conversation with said doorwoman. Since I was headed to the nearest bodega, I offered to pick up for her a cup of coffee, a soda, whatever, whatever she might want or need. For reasons not entirely clear just now, our talk soon veered to the subject of candy.

Now that’s an area in which I am expert. I can hold my own with any of the Mars brothers on this subject.

And during our conversation the doorwoman mentioned a desire for “Mallo Cups,” should I be able to find them.

Whoa! Mallo Cups!? “Blast from the Past” and all that.

I can’t remember the last time I had those, let alone thought of them. But I remembered one thing: I loved Mallo Cups.

And so this little jaunt to the corner bodega became something larger: a hunt, a hunt for Mallo Cups.

The nearest shop, sadly, didn’t stock this delicacy.

That didn’t stop me from spending some serious candy money. While there I purchased the following: Goldenberg’s Peanut Chews, Butterfinger, Twizzlers, Sugar Babies, Krackel, Junior Mints, Mr. Goodbar, Amazin’ Fruit Gummy Bears, Swedish Fish, and M&M’s Peanut Butter. (The last of these, packaged in a silver/gray bag, I will say, are completely new to me.)

But no Mallo Cups.

What to do? Where to go?

I know . . . that place on 13th Street, the place where I buy my Razzles, the proprietor of which told me he has customers who buy Razzles there by the stack because they can’t find them anywhere else.

Oh yeah!

They were there.

Mallo Cups.

(Tell me this, though: Where in Philadelphia can I find B-B-Bats?)

The Rittenhouse Review | Copyright 2002-2006 | PERMALINK |