Circle of Croquembouche

This life we're in. Is it delicious or bitter? Sour or savory? Are we tasting the fruits of our labors or grubbing for leftovers? Are we building anew in daring ways, like this cream puff croquembouche you see here, or are we melting down like wet spun sugar?

Reason I ask is, my life has gone circular on me. Before Dueling Margaritas was conceived in the sweet lil town of Dubois, Wyoming, as a partnership with a fabulous editor from a major magazine, I was a cubicle-dwelling, fully employed person of a company con health insurance. I worked on big accounts and was a bit smug about it. Perhaps you've heard of Coca-Cola. Pizza Hut. Samsung. Boy, does my resume look rich.

Then came the gelatinization of the economy. Let's not dwell there. It's enough to say I'm one of those Americans you've heard about and crossed yourself that you didn't lose your job in mid-life, with two kids in college.

When I tanked, similar to the narrative in "Then We Came to the End," I had nowhere to turn, so I entered culinary school. (I've often said it's the adult's version of running away to join the circus).

On the side, I now work for a gourmet-to-go market and bakery. It has given me new perspective on the work that people do to pay their bills. In food service, the hours are long, the pay is low and the pains are unceasing. If you're not burning yourself, you're banging your elbows. At the end of a shift, you hurt all over - in your hair, in your eyebrows, in the fingernails.

I haven't written a word about working for this new company, because I never want to say anything that could reflect a point of view that is not consistent with its brand position. See how working in advertising pays off? It's enough to say the food is fresh, fast, and I know how it's prepared, so it's safe. I have a high regard for their artisan breads, and the "chocolate oblivion" flourless cake with mousse, caramel and Heath chips is a chocoholic's delight. With the company's help, I've managed to work an early shift, then go to school. It's not a life sentence, right?

Here's the circular part. Not one but two companies who previously freed themselves of my expertise have reached out to hire me on a contract basis. It gives me great pleasure to help one of them (after all, I can't take on three jobs can I?) By contractual signature I cannot say who or what I'm doing, but it is sweet as cherry pie to be needed again.

Maybe that's what I'm getting at here: Losing one's career is a bitter bag of brussels sprouts. Moving forward when you don't know where you're going is a tall glass of vinegar with sprigs of Swiss chard.

Paula Deen told me the harder you work, the luckier you'll get. And with luck, maybe your life can take a turn and maybe it's circular. Maybe what you lose along the way can come back to you.

And maybe, just maybe, there will be cream puffs in this, with a marzipan rose or two.

Pralines for the Holidays

Decorate all the sugar cookies you wish this holiday season. For me, nothing says "Christmas treat" like the old-fashioned praline.

My Grandmother Mimi had an incredible affinity for chemistry (and taught it). Her method of praline-making is unlike most you'll find today. As kids, we eagerly awaited the arrival of her pralines. She made them in Texas and would drive across the country to our snowy doorstep in Connecticut, box in hand.

When Mimi made pralines, she always melted some of the sugar separately until carmelized, then mixed it into the milk and sugar combination already on the stove. Why this step is important I don't know, but her pralines were always perfectly turned out and the first to disappear if we also had spritz cookies, divinity and those fried dough confections known as "rosettes."

There is a temperamental chemistry to pralines. For instance, a lesser grade sugar can ruin a batch. If you don't cook your mixture all the way to soft-ball stage, it can turn into syrup. Wait too long to spoon it out of the pan, and you can be stuck holding a fine batch of crystallized sugar. It's chemistry, it's timing, it's patience you need to get the feel for it.

My sister Mary believes she did not inherit the "feel," but she always gives me a big bag of shelled pecans every Christmas. My sister Charlotte did inherit the knack, and she's quite the family expert now. Here is her recipe, which doesn't require the separate carmelization step.

Charlotte's Pralines

2 cups of sugar (we recommend Imperial)
3/4 cup milk (Charlotte uses 5/8 cup Half and Half and 1/8 cup skim milk; Mama Mia has tried 2/4 cup of whole milk and 1/4 cup whipping cream, why not?)
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 and 1/2 cups pecan halves or pieces
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 tablespoon of butter

1. Combine sugar, milk and baking soda in a 2- or 3-quart saucepan.
2. Cook over medium heat, stirring occasionally. Keep your eye on it as mixture will rise to top of pan.
3. Continue cooking to soft-ball stage (about 238 degrees on candy thermometer).
4. When a little mixture forms a soft ball when dropped in cold water, remove from heat.
5. Add pecans, vanilla and butter. Beat until candy starts to take shape and lose its gloss.
6. Drop quickly by tablespoons on wax paper.
7. Allow to cool. Store in airtight container. Makes 18-30

Here's another version, pralines from Paula Deen, using more ingredients like brown sugar and dark corn syrup, which to me could get exceedingly sweet when sugar is already the largest ingredient in the pot. I think I will try it, though, since I've never heard of allowing the cooked mixture to cool 10 minutes before adding the nuts, butter and vanilla. Again this is a chemistry thing - vanilla can evaporate if you add it into hot liquid, but letting it cool? My concern is getting the mixture out of the pan before it can harden like a rock.

Today I didn't have pecans on hand, but almonds I've got, and they do well. In fact, if you read this history of the praline, you'll see that "sugar almonds" were an ancient, early form of the praline.

Be sweet now.

(Photo of almond pralines with vintage Santa Claus mug made by the Holt Howard company, getting along nicely together atop Mimi's marble turtle table.)