I’ve never been a good judge of square footage, but once upon a time I lived in a less-than-400-square-foot studio and I’d say darling new Quin candy shoppe is about the size of that studio’s kitchen, so…you know, it’s teeny. But this small space has capacious charm, plus, it’s efficient, because when you’re frantically grabbing for one of everything on a store’s shelves, it’s handy to be able to stand in one spot while you’re doing so.
The sweet younger sibling of master sugar mama Jami Curl‘s Saint Cupcake brethren, this closet o’ candy is the first inhabitant of downtown’s brand-new Union Way–a narrow passageway lined with small shops to be filled with all manner of exquisiteness, i.e., a Portlandized version of Diagon Alley.
Inside, dark wood shelves showcase Curl’s painstakingly cultivated confection collection–sparkling blackberry tangerine and smoked cola gummidrops, puckery cherry sour supremes, soft caramels infused with Steven Smith chai tea or studded with popcorn, jars of Sniffle Slayer lollipops, loops of Marshallow By The Foot made with Water Avenue Coffee and Oregon strawberries, and bright, fruity Dreams Come Chews (Curl’s take on that old candy aisle favorite, Starburst).
As if that weren’t enough, half the shop’s a wall of artisan chocolate, bearing beloved brands like Sweeteeth, Askinosie, Dick Taylor, Mast Brothers, and Fine & Raw, plus local favorites like Woodblock, which mingle with an array of Jacobsen salts and Dave’s coffee syrups.
Since the best thing to do with a stash of candy is eat it while simultaneously devouring a good book (which is how I spent 95% of my childhood free time), there’s good reading material too–like Roald Dahl’s Charlie and the Chocolate Factory, charming counting primer How Many Jelly Beans?, and the Sticky, Chewy, Messy, Gooey! cookbook. Conversely, if all that sugar’s wound you up, pluck a diamond-shaped Prospect piñata from the far wall, go home, and burn off some of that extraneous sucrose.
Just one warning–enter this diminutive candy den, and you WILL emerge with a handbag that looks like this:
Not that this is a bad thing, obviously.