The regional table / Ohio
Buckeyes
Everything in this recipe is cold work. The dough is chilled, the balls are frozen, the chocolate is barely warm, and the one thing that ruins a tray is a hurry.
The candy is a likeness of a seed that the federal government listed among the poisonous plants. V. K. Chesnut wrote Principal Poisonous Plants of the United States for the Division of Botany of the Department of Agriculture in 1898, and in the buckeye family entry he reports that the species all have a similar action and probably contain the same poison, and that the Ohio buckeye, Aesculus glabra, is regarded as intermediate between the others in its poisonous qualities. He notes the practice of stirring bruised buckeye seeds or twigs into a pond to stupefy the fish and gather them by hand as they rise, that the fish so taken are quite wholesome when thoroughly cooked, and that the California buckeye is sometimes made into soup and bread by the Round Valley Indians after the poison is removed by roasting and leaching. The fruit of all the species, he adds, furnishes an excellent grade of starch when properly treated. So the nut that Ohio is named for is handsome, glossy, mahogany brown with a pale circular scar, and entirely unavailable to anybody who wants a sweet. A state that cannot eat its own emblem eventually builds one out of something else.
There is no old recipe for this candy and this page will not invent one. The oldest Ohio cookbook that matters here is the Centennial Buckeye Cook Book, compiled by the women of Marysville and printed there in 1876 with the epigraph that bad dinners go hand in hand with total depravity, while a properly fed man is already half saved. It is a community cookbook of the kind that recorded what a place actually cooked, its title already carries the state's nickname, and it hands you a useful pair of absences. Its Buckeye Cake is a raisin cake, its Buckeye Kisses are meringues, its Buckeye Butter Scotch is toffee — four recipes with the word in the name and not a buckeye in any of them, the nut already reduced to a way of saying Ohio. And its one peanut recipe is a Peanut Candy: a pound of coffee sugar moistened with cold water, a tablespoon of sharp vinegar and one of butter, boiled till it will break in cold water, with the peanut meats broken in bits and stirred lightly through the taffy. Peanuts, yes; peanut butter, nowhere in the book. The candy people mean today is younger than the public domain, no document dates it, and the quantities below were worked out for this page. One more thing that ought to be in this article is not: the statute making the buckeye the state tree, because Ohio's own code server at codes.ohio.gov refused every connection from here, as did the Ohio History Connection's Ohio History Central. The collection database behind Ohio Memory answers; the state's front doors do not.
Why this version works
The bare circle at the top. It is the whole design. A real buckeye is dark brown with a pale round scar where it sat in the husk, and a candy dipped to the crown is just a peanut butter ball in chocolate. Leaving the circle also leaves you somewhere to hold, which is why the toothpick goes in the top and comes out of the top.
A spoonful of fat in the chocolate. Coconut oil or shortening drops the viscosity so the coating flows off in a thin layer instead of hanging in a thick one. A thin shell snaps when you bite it and lets the peanut butter lead; a thick one is a chocolate truffle with a filling, which is a different and lesser sweet.
The balls go into the freezer, not the fridge. A dipped ball has to be cold enough to set the chocolate on contact, otherwise the coating stays liquid, runs off the bottom and takes a smear of peanut butter with it into the bowl. Half an hour in the freezer gets the surface hard while the middle stays soft enough to eat straight away.
Powdered sugar is the structure, not the sweetener. Four cups of it turn a cup and a half of peanut butter from a spread into a dough stiff enough to roll and hold a sphere at room temperature. Granulated sugar cannot do this job — it will not dissolve into fat and leaves the dough both grainy and slack, and no amount of extra sugar fixes it.