DIVINITY AND BEYOND

Old Trunks is hopeful that in your lifetime you have grand memories of home made candy.

For me, there are several that pop up. Prompted by the sun gleaming on the lumps of snow after yesterdays blizzard.

One is Grandma Mae and her marvelous melt in your mouth divinity. Made totally by hand in a little kitchen without the equipment other than an apartment size gas stove and a lot of by hand stirring. It only emerged, as if magic, at Christmas time. She gave my dad a little box for Christmas, the box was an oleo box, wrapped in tissue paper and fastened with stickers. She did not put nuts in hers. Pop one in your month and let the sugar melt around your taste buds. Heaven.

On cold winter nights when car tires crunched along the side streets is when Daddy would get the urge for candy. My sweet tooth Father would gather sugar, cocoa, vanilla, and a pot and put it on the stove to boil. Now, for those of us who may have made candy, we know one of the cardinal rules is the sugar must dissolve and making candy includes beating it, unless you are using a 'new fangled method'. But skip all that, put it in the pan, boil it hard, pour it unto the oval meat platter and set the sugary goo in the snow bank to freeze five minutes. Let me tell you he was the first to admit Whitman's or the company that makes Nut Goodies would never have hired him as a candy maker. Once the frozen delight was brought it, those of us who wished, started from the edges of the platter eating the goop with a spoon. In a few minutes we were all sugared up, half the platter was left. In the morning it was dried out, we could cut it.
Where was the snowbank where the candy froze? Right next to the snowbank where the dog toileted. Times were different, weren't they?

Later, much later, the children's father took lessons from Mrs. Allen, a grand lady in the neighborhood who made marvelous divinity. She used black walnuts in hers. She made it very clear the sugar must be dissolved and the hot sugar mixture needed to be poured in a very thin stream into the egg whites. Beating was of utmost importance. Ryen, as an infant is pictured sitting in the rocking rocker with his dad while he stirred a batch of divinity. Mrs. Allen was a great teacher. Seems to me she taught Rachel how to make pie crust, too.

Do I make candy? No. Do I like candy? Yes. So, why don't I make some? It is on my list of things to accomplish. Meanwhile? I will remember Daddy saying, "Do we have any candy?" The pattering to the kitchen in his wool shirt and twill wool pants with a hanky peeking out of his back pocket to rattle the pans. And I will remember Grandma Mae mixing mixing mixing and dear Mrs. Allen with her sweet little voice except when she hollered at WALTER!

Divinity. Divine.

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