Candy, music, fun.

Tonight, we went to my aunt's house for the annual Christmas musicale. It was grand. There was trumpet playing by my niece, my son and I sang In the bleak midwinter, my nephew was pressed into service, playing Apologize on the piano, the kids joined in on all sorts of carol singing, and we joined together in a fantastic rendition of Bacon Pancakes (led by my son). Super-festive, in other words. Maybe the most fun ever?

In related matters: I made a bunch of candy over the last couple of days:

Listen. I don't know if people even like brittle anymore. I, however, will say this about it:

1. way easier than you'd think.
2. fast--if you've got your ingredients organized, it's like 15 minutes tops per batch.
3. makes you feel like a genius despite 1 & 2 above.

Also:

     4. it looks super cute in a box when you give it to your neighbors. AND
     5.  it must be said: when you make it yourself, it tastes dang fresh and damn good.

(The link above is what got me started. It is the most stripped down, essential version. Here's one that gives you a little foam in the candy at the last minute, which is different and also good.)

Brittle heaven.

I have learned a new candy trick:  I can make brittle!  I got the notion from this feature on The Daily Beast, a little Thanksgiving panoply of not-so-traditional takes on the classic components. Nigella Lawson offered the idea of pumpkinseed brittle, which I made earlier this week, and which is every bit as beautiful and delicious as advertised.

It is so not hard at all.  The only thing you have to do is pay attention when the sugar is boiling away, because when it decides to caramelize, it does so very very quickly, so you don't want to be off removing dog hair from your couch or ironing hankies or polishing your silver (only joking about the last two!  I have dog hair but hardly any hankies and no silver) when that happens.  But so long as you're riveted to the candy miracle happening on your stove, you are going to have brittle, and you will feel like a genius.

This experience has led me to believe that I can make brittle out of anything, a belief that underwrote yesterday's almond brittle, also attractive and delicious.  It reminds me of something my son-in-law once said with respect to his Fry-Baby deep fat fryer:  "You could deep fry a roll of quarters and it would come out full of golden deliciousness."  I'm kind of feeling the same way about anything in brittle form:  paper clips?  potato chips?  Capture anything in hard-caramelized amber and it is transformed: gorgeous, tooth-wreckingly crunchy, irresistible.  By which I mean, at the moment I am finding it hard to resist seeing everything--okay, every nut--as a fantastic opportunity for brittle.