There once was a Le Creuset pot,
Whose insides were blackened a lot,
When a cook disregarded
To stir constantly when prompted –
Please learn from her: stir more often than not!

You and I both know that candymaking requires way more attention than say, a casserole or whatever you cook in that Set-it-and-Forget-it Ronco thing you got for Christmas. I don’t have to tell you that. But I do have to tell me that.

It’s what I like to call Recipe Performance Fatigue. After making a recipe a dozen times, you start to get a little lazy with it. Ingredients are skipped, corners are cut. The beauty of cooking is that most of the time, your dish will still be fabulous despite the RPF tendencies you gravitated toward while making it. But candymaking doesn’t have room for all that corner-cutting. This is especially true when you’re making caramels and are dealing with sugar that boils and bubbles like the contents of an active Hawaiian volcano.

RPF is how I skipped the part about “stirring constantly,” ultimately leading to the stubborn black circle of carbon lining the bottom of my beloved enameled pot.

But I will say that the Le Creuset pot’s demise wasn’t in vain. For one, I’ve been scrubbing and soaking it for a couple of weeks and it seems to be slowly helping in lifting out the blackened mess. And to my surprise, the batch of caramels set up beautifully, glistening and cracking in all the right places when you cut them. And they were lacking any foul taste that would hint at my kitchen debacle. It was a Christmas miracle, so much so that I had to sprinkle them with fleur de sel — delicate flakes and tiny cubes that would come as close to snow as Southern California would allow. RPF, eat your heart out! Now, back to scrubbing my pot.

(Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe.)

(more…)

Am I too late for this bandwagon?

If bacon has left the building and ham is the new swine product of choice, then I’m totally running a little behind on the up-and-up here. It’s like I got the memo that bacon was on the out, but I tossed it into a pile of other memos that include not wearing acid wash jeans after 1986 and how Pluto isn’t a planet anymore. Bacon is so last year, the memo says. Artisanal ham is what we’re supposed to be doing now. But guys, I dunno about this. The 80s can have its acid wash, but as for bacon and Pluto, I can’t let go. Not yet.

Pluto was that odd-tastic planet that was too faraway to see or understand until a few years ago. And apparently, scientists didn’t like what they saw, so it was hastily snipped out of textbooks and disowned by the planetary family. All because it was a “dwarf” planet. Harsh.

And bacon! What has it ever done to us to make us want to drop it like a hot potato? This bacon thing, to me, is not a fling. There is still so much to explore before we throw in the towel.

Fortunately, there are others that feel the same way with both Pluto and bacon. And if any of you bacon/Pluto fans are out there in hiding, you’re not alone. But we are indeed fighting an uphill battle, one that we may ultimately lose. But on the bright side, we can still keep bacon and the former ninth planet in our hearts. Pluto may have been nixed, but there’s still time for bacon to realize its full potential. And, if the meat candy’s decline is ultimately imminent, so be it. We tried.

But let’s send bacon out with a bang, shall we?

(more…)

By far, the recipe on this blog that’s received the most attention is the one for s’mores cupcakes. And why not? They’re certainly eye-pleasing, and they contain all of the essential campfire ingredients minus the “Survivor”-esque wilderness trek (an experience that’s harrowing for some, I’m sure).

Anyhow, in that particular post, I mentioned that the frosting can be used as a crème with strawberries or peach slices for a twist on the fruit ‘n cream concept. Forgive me if I’m drilling this idea into your memory by ways of yet another mention, but I really must insist. Especially when strawberries are involved.

When you pair strawberries and marshmallow crème (and we’re not talking the jarred marshmallow stuff), you’re getting two kinds of sweet. From the strawberry, there’s the light, floral sweetness the fruit tends to yield when fully ripe. The marshmallow crème offers more of an unnatural sweetness, like the stuff that was in the potent candy you used to be addicted to when you were a kid. It’s a fantastic combination, especially for those of us trying hard to keep our childlike qualities with every facial wrinkle we earn. These little nuggets of heaven satisfy both our inner kids and the grown-ups we’ve become.

Now, I don’t mean to wax poetic about marshmallow strawberries (because it makes me sound, and feel, like a total weirdo), but I can’t seem to better explain why I really love these little treats. So here’s the simple version of what I’m trying to say: They’re just awesome.

I call them tortured strawberries, because you do have to torch them, albeit very lightly. But they don’t look the least bit tortured, do they? They look kind of snug, all swaddled into little pillowy bundles. I bet they actually like being torched. Perhaps they would be willing to suffer even more agony by a sprinkling of crushed Oreo cookies or a drizzling of caramel. The possibilities are far too much for me to handle right now.

On second thought, perhaps the one being tortured in all of this is me.

(Click on “Read the rest of this entry” for recipe)

(more…)