|Or, The Ghost Turds of Diabetes.|
Divinity is my favorite candy ever. I first had it when I was around 14 or so, and therefore something that's nearly pure sugar appealed to me a lot. I realize I'm supposed to say that now that I've grown up I've lost the taste for such candy and would therefore never eat an entire box of it at once. However, that would require lying.
|That's a lot of sugar, ain't it?|
|It occurs to me I may need a bigger pot.|
|What sort of idiot tips out a pot of scalding syrup one-handed just to take a picture of it?|
|At first it smelled like crème brûlée.|
|See? Hardly any in the rest of the bowl.|
And in the course of tilting the mixer up so everything would get flung back into the bowl, I forgot the syrup on the stove until it was 20 degrees hotter than the recipe said it should be. But somehow adding it made the divinity stop getting stuck in the beaters. Then I dumped in the vanilla- and a little bit of almond extract as well. Well, I tried to add just a little, but I had a badly timed wrist twitch. The alcohol in the extracts evaporated on contact. Since I was standing right over the mixer working a rubber spatula as the alcohol fumes came off, I got slightly dizzy.
At this point, the mixer was getting kind of hot and was slowing down under the strain. Would divinity outdo a motor descended from electric vibrators? Heck no it wouldn't!
|Also, who feels like having to wash a buttered platter?|
|Kinda like a flocked Christmas tree, isn't it?|