White Magic

Christine Moore loves the alchemy of the confectioner’s art. Though many of us give little thought to the origins of honeycomb, nougat and butter-crunch, Moore, who owns the Little Flower Candy Company, knows how to turn basic sugar into the delicacies she sells to bakeries and restaurants throughout the Los Angeles area.

Inside Moore’s Mt. Washington kitchen, the sweet sounds of Elvis and milky fragrance of caramels fill the room as stockpots, with Taylor candy thermometers clipped to their sides, bubble away on the stove. By 11 a.m., she has already turned out 40 pounds of vanilla, lemon, roasted pecan, sea salt and chocolate-flavored caramels, and is ready for her next project: marshmallows.

The very idea that this childhood treat can be made from scratch comes as news to many of Moore’s customers. “People always ask, ‘You can make marshmallows?’ ” she says. “It’s a novelty. Often they don’t know what it is when they first pick one up. When they realize it’s a freshly made marshmallow, they have to try it.”

Marshmallows have been around--in one form or another--for thousands of years. Pliny, Horace, Virgil and the Bible all extolled the virtues of the marsh mallow plant. The gummy sap from the plant’s roots was often used as an elixir for respiratory and other ailments in ancient cultures. In fact, marsh mallow extract is still found in herbal remedies today.

The French created the first whipped sweet mallow confection in the 19th century, called pate de Guimauve, which they shaped in molds. Marshmallows were made this way until the early 20th century, when sap was replaced by gelatin or gum Arabic, and extrusion replaced molds in the late 1940s.

Today, marshmallow’s ingredients are considerably less mechanical: sugar, corn syrup, water, flavoring and air. You simply soften gelatin in water, cook the syrup without stirring until it reaches 248 degrees, pour it into the gelatin and beat the mixture until it’s glossy, thready and sticky.

Though the initial process is easy enough, candy making is about “hurry up and wait.” It takes 30 minutes of boiling and whipping before Moore piles the snow-white fluff into a sugar-lined pan. Then she sets it aside to “cure,” or dry out, until it’s firm enough to cut.

From there the possibilities are limitless. Moore suggests flavoring marshmallows with lemon or orange oil and rolling them in tinted sugar, layering them with candied hazelnuts, dipping them in dark chocolate and ground nuts, or piping the mixture through a pastry tube to make your own holiday Peeps.

“I’ve always loved candy,” Moore says. “I grew up on James’s ‘cut-to-fit-the-mouth’ saltwater taffy from the Jersey shore. Making candy is magical to me.” And a taste of the real thing is always worth the effort.

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Marshmallows

Makes 48

4 packages or 4 tablespoons powdered gelatin

3 cups granulated sugar plus 2 cups for coating

1 1/2 cups corn syrup

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups water

1 tablespoon vanilla

Sprinkle 1 cup sugar evenly over bottom of 9-by-12-by-2-inch cake pan and line sides with wax paper. In bowl of electric mixer, stir gelatin into 3/4 cup of cool water and set aside to soften. In a heavy pot, stir together corn syrup, salt, remaining 3/4 cup water and 3 cups of sugar. Bring to a boil, uncovered, over high heat and cook until mixture reaches firm ball stage, 248 degrees on a candy thermometer, 10-15 minutes.

Using whisk attachment with mixer running on medium, pour hot sugar mixture in a stream into softened gelatin. Do not scrape pot. Turn mixer to high and beat until mixture expands to nearly fill bowl, is fluffy, glossy, pulls away from the sides, and clings to whisk, about 15 minutes. Beat in vanilla. Pile marshmallow into middle of prepared pan, gently pushing with spatula to edges. Sprinkle with remaining cup of sugar. Allow marshmallow to set at room temperature 10-12 hours. Turn out onto parchment paper, cut away wax paper and shake excess sugar onto a plate. Cut marshmallows into desired shapes, dipping cut sides into sugar. Store in airtight container at room temperature.

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Amelia Saltsman last wrote for the magazine about hors d’oeuvres.