CARAMEL CORN WITH PECANS

PERFECT FOR HOLIDAY GIVING

INSPIRED BY A RECIPE found in Food and Wine Magazine: Caramel Corn with Pecans. Easy and fun. Utterly addictive. Excellent for a little holiday gift.

In a very large bowl or roasting pan, mix together about 12 cups of air popped popcorn (1 to 2 microwavable bags — be sure to remove all kernels which do not pop) plus 1/2 cup or more coarsely chopped pecans. Set aside and make the caramel.

In a medium-sized pan over medium heat (I used a pan with a non-stick coating), bring to a boil 1 stick of butter, 1 cup brown sugar, and 1/3 cup Lyle’s Golden Syrup (corn syrup will do, but Lyle’s has amazing flavor). Simmer for 3 to 4 minutes, until just golden brown in color. Don’t let it darken too much. Carefully stir in a pinch of salt, if desired, and 1/2 teaspoon baking soda (caramel will foam up — be careful).

NOW. What they don’t tell you: don’t pour the caramel over the popcorn all at once into a gob in the middle and expect to distribute the sweet stuff evenly. Pour slowly, stirring stir well but gently until all the popcorn is covered. You don’t want to break up the corn into little pieces. I ended up pouring the popcorn out onto a long stretch of parchment paper and using my hands and the paper to facilitate this process.

When cool enough to handle but still pliable, gather as necessary or break the caramel corn into small clusters or ping-pong ball sized balls and compact slightly. Either shape will make for a pleasing presentation.

Many recipes for caramel corn call for baking in a slow oven for up to an hour, stirring occasionally, after mixing the caramel with the popcorn in order to dry and harden it. I did not find this necessary, but the step does help distribute the caramel. So if you find those tooth-threatening gobs of caramel instead of an even gloss, place the pan in a low oven (250 degrees) for ten minutes. Remove and stir gently. Repeat if necessary.

Store well covered. Lovely when packaged in cellophane gift bags and tied with a golden ribbon.

Case in point: me. I have had no success at trying to place this excellent recipe by my friend Elaine Razanno on our actual website in any state or shape. I’ve tried reformatting, saving it in multiple file versions — utter cyber chaos.  Below then is the promised recipe, still exhibiting a few unresolved typeface issues, but the best my meager skills can manage (click on the recipe itself to see a clearer, larger PDF in a separate window — click once, then click again for the largest type).  Have ingredients on hand to bake several batches; while these lovely biscotti wrap and ship perfectly for gifts, they’re hard to part with. Sure to please every chocoholic on your holiday list.

The turkey, seen here in the capable hands of my son, Alex, took a good half-hour longer than expected to roast. This always happens, and it always makes me pretty flustered, as there’s a part of my Italian nature that really does like the trains to run on time, if you know what I mean.

I had lots of help in the kitchen this year.  My daughter Marion made the most excellent pies — a beautiful apple and a light and creamy pumpkin, both with whole wheat crusts; daughter Elizabeth pulled together a superb cranberry sauce laced with a fairly potent quantity of Triple Sec, and a sweetly sauced rum cake as well.

My son’s girlfriend, Tonia, and I baked a lemon cheesecake, following my mother’s recipe, which we topped with a limoncello sauce enhanced with vanilla Hagen Daz ice cream. Tonia’s mom, Sue, brought wonderful stuffing. Marion’s beau, Chris, mashed a half-ton or so of potatoes. And everyone pitched in to ready a simple salad, peas, green beans with slivered almonds browned in butter.

I always simmer the neck and giblets for an hour or more, like my mother did, to richen the gravy. But I add a chopped onion and an apple to the brew, to give a bit of sweet and savory to it all.  Strain the juices from roasting pan well; skim off as much grease as you can. Strain the broth you’ve simmered on the stovetop. Add the juices, then whisk in a slurry of a few tablespoons of flour and water. Whisk well and heat through; adjust seasonings and thickness as you please. Gravy complete.

So, an ordinary Butterball roasted without fanfare, traditional side dishes with just a few unique touches here and there —  the usual suspects appeared on our plates. We did though shake it up by serving on leopard print tablecloths. But that’s another story.

Happy Thanksgiving, everyone.  May your kitchen be bustling, and your table laden with riches.  May you have much to be thankful for this holiday season.