Candy Apple Dead (31 page)

Nodding with satisfaction, he turned away and opened the door, but I couldn’t let him leave without asking one question. “Hey, Jawarski . . .”

“Yeah?”

“You got a first name?”

“Sure do,” he said with a grin. “It’s Pine.”

Pine. Tall, strong, and solid. I guess that fit him perfectly.

“Okay. Pine. See you Saturday.”

“It’s a date.” He let himself out into the night and shut the door behind him.

This time, I stopped everything and watched him walk away.

 

Lightly grease a 10 x 15-inch baking sheet and set it aside. In a large heavy saucepan, combine the brown sugar, butter, and water and bring slowly to the boil, stirring occasionally to prevent burning.

Insert a candy thermometer and cook until the mixture reaches 285° F (soft-crack stage).

Remove from heat and quickly stir in the vanilla and baking soda.

Immediately pour the hot mixture onto the greased baking sheet.

Sprinkle the chocolate chips over the hot toffee. Let the whole thing sit for 5 minutes, then spread the chocolate evenly over the surface of the toffee with a spatula. Sprinkle the nuts evenly over the top.

Cool completely. Break the hardened toffee into pieces and store in an airtight container.

 

Makes about 1-1/2 pounds

 

Mash cheese well. Add the oil of peppermint flavoring and coloring as desired, and mix in the sugar. Knead the mix with your hands until you have a texture like pie dough.

Shape into balls, one at a time, press one side ONLY, into granulated sugar.

Press sugar side into rubber mold of your choice. Unmold at once.

 

Makes 30 pieces

Combine first 8 ingredients in heavy 2-1/2-quart saucepan (about 3 inches deep). Stir with wooden spatula or spoon over medium-low heat until sugar dissolves (no crystals are felt when caramel is rubbed between fingers). Occasionally brush down sides of pan with wet pastry brush. Takes about 15 minutes.

Attach clip-on candy thermometer to side of pan. Increase heat to medium-high; cook caramel at rolling boil until thermometer registers 236°F, stirring constantly but slowly with clean wooden spatula and occasionally brushing down sides of pan with wet pastry brush. Takes about 12 minutes.

Pour caramel into metal bowl (do not scrape pan). Submerge thermometer bulb in caramel; cool, without stirring, to 200°F. Takes about 20 minutes.

While caramel cools, line 2 baking sheets with foil; butter foil. Push 1 chopstick/popsicle stick into stem end of each apple. Set up decorations and melted chocolates.

Holding by the stick, dip 1 apple into 200°F caramel, submerging all but very top of apple. Lift apple out, allowing excess caramel to drip back into bowl. Turn apple caramel side up and hold for several seconds to help set caramel around apple.

Place coated apple on prepared foil. Repeat with remaining apples and caramel, spacing apples apart (caramel will pool on foil). If caramel becomes too thick to dip into, add 1 to 2 table-spoons whipping cream and briefly whisk caramel in bowl over low heat to thin.

Chill apples on sheets until caramel is partially set, about 15 minutes. Lift 1 apple from foil. Using hand, press pooled caramel around apple; return to foil. Repeat with remaining apples.

Firmly press decorations into caramel; return each apple to foil. Or dip caramel-coated apples into melted chocolate, allowing excess to drip off, then roll in nuts or candy. Or drizzle melted chocolate over caramel-coated apples and sprinkle with decorations.

 

Makes 12

 

Roll up the edges of two 16-inch square pieces of heavy-duty aluminum foil to form a tray. Sprinkle the foil very generously with confectioners’ sugar.

In a large heavy saucepan, combine the white sugar, corn syrup, and water. Heat over medium-high heat, stirring constantly until the sugar dissolves.

Stop stirring, and boil until a candy thermometer reads 300° to 310° F (149° to 154° C).

Remove from heat.

Stir in the cinnamon oil (or other flavor) and the food coloring. (If your flavored oil is more than six months old, you may need to use a little extra.)

Pour onto the prepared foil and allow to cool and harden.

Crack into pieces and store in an airtight container.

 

Prep Time: approximately 15 minutes.

Cook Time: approximately 45 minutes.

Makes 48 servings (approximately 3 pounds)

 

 

“I can’t
believe
she had the nerve to show up.”
Without taking her eyes off the woman in question, my cousin Karen shoved an empty tray in my general direction. It teetered precariously on the edge of the table and would have fallen if I hadn’t snatched it away from her. “What is she doing here, anyway?”

With an irritated roll of my eyes, I slid the tray out of sight beneath the flowing white tablecloth that hid extra containers of candy, score sheets, programs, and other necessary but unattractive supplies needed for running a three-day cooking competition.

Wishing I had some Advil, I rubbed the back of my neck in a vain attempt to get rid of the nervous knots of tension. I’d been running behind all day as I put the finishing touches on Divinity’s Tenth Annual Confectionary Competition.

It might have been the tenth annual event for the candy store I’d inherited a few months earlier, but it was the first ever for me. I was nervous as a cat and desperate for the weekend to go well, and I didn’t need Karen—my only help and the one person providing continuity and history for the contest—to be distracted.

When I realized that she was waiting for me to say something, I followed the direction of her gaze. “Who are you talking about?”

“Savannah Horne, who else?”

I’d gone to high school with Savannah and I’ll admit she’s never been my favorite person, but I didn’t want to encourage Karen, so I shrugged casually. “She’s here to compete, like everyone else.”

Karen snorted a laugh and narrowed her eyes. “Savannah doesn’t compete, she just takes whatever she wants. She’s up to no good, Abby. Mark my words.”

Trying to ignore Karen’s dour warning, I concentrated instead on the colorful swaths of flowing fabric that draped the walls and the crisp white cloths covering the tables in the judging and staging areas. After the day we’d had, I was tempted to believe her. Somehow, in spite of the never-ending setbacks, we’d managed to transform the bare second-floor meeting room at Divinity into a thing of beauty—as long as no one looked too closely. To my relief, most of the silver candy trays we’d placed around the room were still reasonably full, and the candy bouquets I’d settled in strategic spots, hoping to convince people that they were an acceptable alternative to traditional flowers on special occasions, seemed to be generating some interest.

So far, so good. I didn’t want to upset the delicate balance. “Maybe Savannah was like that in school,” I conceded, “but that was twenty years ago. People change.”

Karen ran a judgmental glance across Savannah’s tall, willowy figure and scooped a peppermint crunch from the candy dish at her side. “No they don’t. Especially not people like her.”

“You don’t know that. You haven’t even seen her in how long?”

“Five years. Maybe six.”

“And you told me yourself that you didn’t even speak to her last time she was in town.”

Karen’s brows knit in a deep scowl. “So what’s your point?”

“That maybe she’s doing exactly what she told us she’s doing. Maybe she’s here to see Delta and she wants a diversion while she’s in town.”

“I don’t believe it,” Karen said with a curl of her lip. “What could Savannah Horne possibly want from this competition?”

“How about recognition?”

“As the best candymaker in Paradise? Be serious.” Karen watched as Savannah swept past Evie Rice on her way to the judging table. If Karen disliked Savannah, Evie positively loathed her. Neither of us missed the venomous look on Evie’s face as Savannah placed her dish in front of the judging panel. “Evie agrees with me,” Karen whispered. “If looks could kill, none of us would have to worry about Savannah.”

“That’s not funny,” I whispered back. “I have enough to worry about this weekend without borrowing trouble. If Savannah wants something besides a plaque at the end of the competition, I don’t want to know about it.”

“You only say that because you don’t have a husband,” Karen muttered. “If Roger was here with you, you’d be worried.”

So that was it? Karen thought Savannah was still interested in Sergio after all these years? Thank goodness it was nothing more serious than that.

There’s no tactful way to tell a woman that her husband isn’t the stud he used to be, so I didn’t even try. Instead, I filled a tray with chocolate peanut clusters and shoved it toward my cousin. “I’m sure I would be worried if Roger were here. He wasn’t exactly the faithful type, remember? That’s why we’re divorced.” She started to speak, but I cut her off. “Look, I know you have reasons to dislike Savannah. I’m sure a lot of people do. But that all happened eons ago. It has nothing to do with today. So please, just let it go for now, okay? Help me get through this weekend, and you can go back to hating her on Monday morning.”

Karen’s lips curved into a grudging smile. “By then, it might be too late.”

I pressed the tray into her hands and locked eyes with her. “Sergio loves you, Karen. He may have wandered that one time before you were even dating seriously, but you have nothing to worry about now.” I paused to let that sink in, then tried to draw her attention to what really mattered. “Would you mind checking on the judges to make sure there’s nothing they need? They’ll be announcing tonight’s finalists in a few minutes, and I want to make sure everything goes smoothly.”

Still scowling, Karen actually looked as if she might refuse, but before we could launch into
that
argument, a shrill cry went up from the other side of the room. The buzz of excited voices rose and folks standing nearby surged toward the sound. I met Karen’s shocked gaze a split second before we both sprang into action.

Praying that no one had been hurt, I slipped out from behind the serving table just as Rachel Summers, owner of the candle shop a few doors away, burst through the crowd and waved for Karen and me to join her. “You’d better get in there,” she warned as I closed the distance between us. “I swear one of those women is going to kill the other.”