Taffy and the Beach: Delectable Duo Is Forever Stuck Together

"I've pulled a couple of fillings out in my time with taffy," says the 57-year-old from Cambridge, Md. "My dentist loves to do the caps, so he likes me eating taffy. He likes the business. It seems like every summer I'm back with another filling."

Taffy.

It seduced Phoebe in an episode of the television hit "Friends." Ross offered Phoebe a piece of salt water taffy, so she started chewing.

What "is up with this stuff?" Phoebe screamed. "Oh God, is it gum? Is it food? What's the deal?"

She chewed a little more.

"Oh, it's nice," Phoebe concluded. "May I try a pink one?"

It is mesmerizing to watch taffy blossom from a kettle of corn syrup and sugar.

Generations of Dolles have worked to perfect taffy since 1910. Let's follow their recipe.

You cook, at 250 degrees, a mixture of corn syrup and sugar, with a splash of water and a dash of salt -- but not salt water. Then you cool it. You end up with something resembling a 35-pound block of Silly Putty.

Next comes the fun part. You put the block on a pulling machine, which stretches the taffy over and over. As the elastic taffy is pulled, air circulates to make it softer. Like beating an egg white, the taffy turns from a translucent yellow to a satin white.

Now you add flavoring and pastel coloring. Always pastels -- the pinks, blues and sunny yellows of Bermuda shorts and plastic hair clasps. You feed the taffy into the wrapping machine and voila! Bow twists at the ends.

For the Dolles, taffy is big business. You can buy assorted kisses and sticks for $6.99 per pound; a mini-tote for $7.35; sugar-free (does selling taffy without sugar violate some taffy law?) for $7.50 per pound.

Taffy became so popular at the beach -- inextricably connected -- because, unlike chocolate, it could withstand the blazing sun without melting. Could that be why we chew it? Because it's so strong? So tenacious? We chew and chew, but that sweet kiss stays glued to our teeth. It won't give up. It won't back down.

If you ask, taffymakers will tell you how it got the name salt water taffy. It was the 1880s, on the boardwalk in Atlantic City. A man -- his name was David Bradley, according to lore -- sold candy in a kiosk. One night, Bradley forgot to board up his stand and a tidal surge covered his candy with a salty, sticky sea mist.

The next morning, a child asked Bradley, "What do you have to sell, sir?"

"How 'bout some salt water taffy?" he replied.

The name stuck.