The Greek god Dionysus (Bacchus to the Romans) was said to have been the child of Zeus, the king of the gods, and a human woman. Hera, Zeus's jealous and crafty wife, tricked the woman into convincing Zeus to show her his true form, which promptly killed her. But Zeus, ever resourceful, swooped in, rescued his unborn baby and sewed him to his thigh, where he apparently enjoyed a successful gestation, although it couldn't have been very comfy for Zeus. At least the gods didn't wear pants.

The alternate story behind Bacchus's birth involves his mother eating his fetal heart and becoming impregnated. Isn't this the perfect holiday candy?

Okay, Bacchus is also associated with wine and drinking, so it makes sense that his name is attached to a candy so alcoholic it carries a warning about eating it and driving. (Japan has a zero-tolerance law.) Like its cousin Rummy, Bacchus is a recurring winter candy. I first tried it a year ago and didn't find it so alcoholic; that's because I had a drink in my hand at the time. Eating one today during my 8AM photo shoot, the cognac set the back of my throat afire and I actually felt a bit flushed a few minutes later. Still, it's not a bad candy. The milk chocolate shell is smooth and its sweetness tempers the cognac-syrup center. It's like those tiny foil-wrapped chocolate bottles filled with various alcohols, but better, because I often find the chocolate of the bottles disgustingly chalky. One piece of Bacchus post-dinner would be just fine. But I'd stay away from it post-lunch at work when you have a tendency to turn alarmingly red after drinking. Sigh.

I really like the old-style fancy look of Bacchus's packaging, as well as the red/green color scheme. It reminds me of old books of Christmas carols or maybe the cover of a late-'70s Christmas LP. Strangely, even though I only have a one-year holiday history with the candy, I now feel some kind of nostalgic fondness for it, like Oh, it's December and the Bacchus is here! Now if only it would snow....