My Signature

They are something from the 50s, when chemistry was the housewife's hero,   a 20th century manifestation of everything industrial:  the Marshmallow.  They are also my Frenchman's weakness.  If I bring home a bag, they disappear within 24 hours.  Yes he shares--his enthusiasm for marshmallows has rubbed off on my children.

We came across a homemade marshmallow, covered in chocolate, on a stick!  It was at a Farmer's Market years ago.  My French man didn't share.  I saw the glee in his eye.  I take my wifely duties seriously, so I resolved.  I researched.  I have conquered this concoction.  My French man's only lament about my marshmallows is that I share!

A marshmallow, at its humblest, is only three ingredients:  sugar, gelatin, corn syrup.  It must be heated precisely.  It must be measured meticulously.  It must be beaten until it has quadrupled in size, then spread and "dried."  Making marshmallows is serious business.  It often takes 2 days! (Hey, I have three kids...)

My marshmallows, the homemade kind, have evolved.  Sometimes they are just plain.  I started just cutting these confections into cubes.  Then we began dipping them in dark chocolate.  oh!  That's when I realized I had to double my recipe.  I began to add spices, essential oils, to make these fluffy cubes sing:  star anise, orange oil, cocoa powder, cinnamon.  A little food coloring --don't scoff!  We're talking about marshmallows, after all!--a little food coloring, and we've got the perfect Valentine's treat:  airy pinks and pale reds, lilac and peach wrapped up with L-O-V-E.

I can pipe marshmallow ghosts, perfectly white forms that float off the plate...Homemade becomes the perfect topping for my S'mores cupcakes, right down to the blowtorch that toasts this twirl of fluff.  If I'm industrious (let's be honest, this doesn't happen very often anymore...) I can stuff my marshmallow gracefully into chocolate-lined baking cups.  Picture mini-muffin tins, chocolate, ganache, marshmallow.  You know I love you if you get these for Christmas!

I cook a lot.  I bake often.  I can keep my family stocked in cookies and cakes for months, yet they only remember the Marshmallows. They are industrial!  They should be disdained!  They have corn syrup! They are also magical, and, somehow,  they have become my signature treat:  Mom's Marshmallows.  My teenager is suddenly clinging to my side while I cut and roll them in powdered sugar to magically coat the sticky.  My French man finds reasons to swing by the kitchen while they dry, and suddenly, I remember why I always make a double batch!

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