Winter rolls around, and I have this rather embarrassing habit: I can't resist sugar-coated hawthorn on my way home from work.

You know the feeling, right? The wind stings your face so badly you don't even want to stick your fingers outside, but there they are—those bright red strings standing under the streetlights, their sugar coating gleaming like it's been lit from within. If you don't buy them, it feels like you've left something unfinished.

Later, there were a few times I didn't get any (sold out/too long a line/I was too lazy), and I couldn't stop thinking about them even after getting home. Then one day, on a whim, I thought: Why not make them myself?

Reality quickly taught me a lesson: the first batch of syrup burned black; the second was too runny to coat properly; the third finally stuck, but the coating was cloudy and not crisp enough... Standing at the stove, inhaling the burnt smell, I questioned my life: how do street vendors make this look so effortless?

Eventually, I distilled a simple truth: it wasn't that I was clumsy—it was that I wanted to cut corners.

Making candied hawthorn comes down to two things:

1) The syrup must be stable

2) The moment you remove it from the heat must be decisive

And whether the syrup stays stable really does depend on the sugar you use.

My current method is down-to-earth: On weekends, I buy some hawthorn berries (strawberries or grapes work too), wash and dry them at home, then thread them onto skewers. Put sugar and water in a pot and simmer slowly over low heat—the most annoying part is you have to watch it constantly: it goes from “looking like plain water” to “starting to bubble,” then to “bubbles getting finer, syrup turning clear and shiny.” If you turn up the heat too high, it'll instantly turn into a “caramel flavor disaster scene.”

Later, I switched to a hassle-free option: Bee Brand's “Special White Sugar for Candied Hawthorn.” It's not some magical ingredient that “changes everything,” but it does make a difference—

It dissolves more completely, simmers more smoothly, and yields a glaze that shines brighter.

For someone like me who “wants it right the first time and hates washing pots repeatedly,” this is a super practical perk.

What's the most satisfying moment?

It's when you dip the skewered hawthorn berries into the syrup, lift them out, and the coating instantly sets—glistening on the surface, hardening within moments. Then you take that first bite—“Crunch.”

That satisfying crunch feels like shattering all the winter's frustrations into tiny pieces.

I also discovered a charmingly everyday use:

This little ritual is perfect for “treating yourself.”

No oven needed, no complicated ingredients, and cleanup is a breeze. You could even call a friend while making them: “I'm boiling sugar syrup right now—wait till you hear this crisp sound.” Sounds a bit childish, but it really works.

And if you want to add a little “thoughtfulness,” it's simple:

Make the sugar coating thinner for a crisp, refreshing bite; thicker for more sweetness and crunch. Who you make it for, what flavor you want—you're pretty much in control. Winter, after all, calls for a bit of unapologetic sweetness. Otherwise, it's just too cold.

Anyway, this is my current state:

No matter how fierce the wind outside, I can always whip up a string of crispy treats when I get home.

When the sugar flows smoothly, life flows a little smoother too.

If you want to try making them at home, don't overcomplicate things: dry the hawthorn berries thoroughly, take your time with the syrup, and use reliable, easy-to-work-with sugar (I use Bee Brand's “Special White Sugar for Candied Hawthorn Sticks” bag). Your success rate will really improve. Think of it as adding a little charm to winter—it's totally worth it.