Marshmallows

If there's this much mess, if you've dirtied ten things all over the kitchen counters, if you're completely coated in sugar like some little old British matron on Boxing Day, then it must be time for marshmallows.

Listen, the rewards outweigh the clean-up: light, airy pillows of nothingness, sweet and creamy. Heaven in hot chocolate--but pretty darn fine on their own.

You'd think something so sweet wouldn't be so deadly. But Bruce and I almost broke up over them. It was early in our relationship, one of the first few dates. We were standing in Central Market in Austin, Texas. And we'd both rather be right than happy.

I swore marshmallows were made with egg whites. He said they weren't. I got irate--as people who are wrong often do. He insisted. I did, too. We bolted for the packages, grabbing them up, reading the ingredients. My mistake was clear--but I still wouldn't admit it. "Some are," I kept saying.

None is. Marshmallows are a confection of sugar, gelatin, and water, beaten into insane fluffiness. So let's go through it step by step.

First, lightly oil a 9 x 13-inch baking pan. Or use nonstick spray, the way Bruce does. No butter, though. (Darn it.) You don't want a taste to compete with the sugary creaminess.

Next, sprinkle three 1/4-ounce envelopes of gelatin over 3/4 cup water in a large bowl, preferably the bowl of a stand mixer. Don't touch this mixture for 10 minutes. The gelatin will absorb all the water and get spongy. (And for the uninitiated: Lord, don't use Jell-O!)

Meanwhile, stir 2 cups sugar, 3/4 cup light corn syrup, and 3/4 cup water in a medium saucepan over medium-high heat until the sugar dissolves. Then clip a candy thermometer--THE tool--to the inside of the pan and let the thing go undisturbed until the temperature reaches 240F, about 8 minutes, maybe longer. Remember: this is chemistry. Ambient humidity, air pressure, the works. In fact, it's best to make these on a clear, high-pressure day.

And don't get excited about the light corn syrup. We were once on a national TV show and used it to make homemade peanut butter. The host got all happy. "Oh, light," she chirped. "We like that."

There's nothing to like. Per se. "Light" is only as opposed to dark, which has caramel color added. The color only affects the final product. There's no reduction in calories. It's all glucose: heaven for the tongue, hell on the pancreas.

Once the mixture gets to 240F, remove the saucepan from the heat and stir in 1/4 cup additional light corn syrup. Why now? Because it will instantly drop the temperature. The sugar is so hot that the temperature can continue to rise for a few seconds off the heat--and any rise will bring the chemical mixture in danger of the "crack" stage. You'll end up with inedible, gooey marshmallow brittle, not the soft, pillowy stuff.

With an electric mixer on high, beat up the softened gelatin a bit, then add the hot sugar syrup in a slow, steady stream, no wider than a lead pencil. Once it has all been added, step away and let the mixer keep beating.

And beating. And beating. For 10 minutes. Set the clock. You're looking for the mixture in the bowl to turn white and triple in volume. If in doubt, let the thing continue to beat.

Beat in 1 tablespoon vanilla extract, then pour the whole thing into that prepared 9 x 13-inch pan. Smooth the top with an off-set icing spatula or a wide knife, dipped occasionally in water. Dust the top with confectioners' sugar. (Be generous!) Then set aside to firm up, about 3 hours.

Now get ready to get dirty. Dust a large cutting board with confectioners' sugar. (Don't skimp!) Turn the pan out onto it. You might have to tap and rap it for the whole marshmallow loaf to come free. Then dust the whole thing with more confectioners' sugar.

And if that weren't enough, pour even more confectioners' sugar into a big bowl.

Cut the marshmallow loaf into 3-inch squares. Bruce finds that a pizza roller works best. A knife can do the trick, provided it's dipped in water.

Pull the squares a part and drop them into the bowl of confectioners' sugar, about 10 at a time. Toss them well to coat them thoroughly. If you're not coated in a fine film of the stuff at this point, you're not using enough. (Think "British matron." Hold the image in your mind. Embrace it. But continue to enjoy regular dentistry.)

Put the squares in a fine-mesh strainer or sieve and sift back and forth gently to remove the excess confectioners' sugar.

And they're ready to go. We bind ours up in these little plastic bags with silver ties. You can find all that at any craft store--or at kitchenkrafts.com (where they also sell our candy book).

And that's that. Want to go even more over the top? Add cocoa powder to that big bowl of confectioners' sugar to make chocolate dusted marshmallows. Or first sift them in toasted coconut before adding them to the sugar. And then get ready--you won't believe what you're about to taste. Except I swear they'd be better with egg whites.