Liquid Hot Magma

I mentioned in an earlier post that part of what I like about the professional chocolatier program is that I'm being forced to try new things. This was the case last Sunday, when one of the assignments required that I make a caramel -- something I had never done before. And let me tell you, it was terrifying.

In an effort to put my own twist on a classic caramel recipe, I decided to use equal parts of white sugar and fancy molasses. Knowing that once sugar gets going, it can spike in temperature quickly, I decided a mise en place set up was necessary. I also pulled a Martha Stewart and added a bowl of ice water in case of burns. And then I started.

The first part of melting sugar and starting to cook it is rather slow and unremarkable, though I do seem to have an irrational fear about sugar burning (perhaps that stems from the fact that if the alarm in my apartment is triggered, the entire building will have to evacuate). As it gets hotter and hotter, of course, it starts bubbling and spurting. As my thermometre crept towards 255 degrees, I was a little anxious about the whole thing. I also couldn't get Dr. Evil out of my head.



Eventually, I hit the desired temperature, removed the liquid hot magma from the burner, and added the vanilla -- which of course caused a new round of spurting and bubbling almost to the point of bubbling over, but not quite.

Following the recipe, I stirred with a wooden spoon and then poured the caramel into a prepared pan. Finally, I sprinkled some pink Himalayan salt over the surface of the caramel while it was still hot so that the salt would sort of melt into the surface.

No need for the bowl of ice water. That was a success in my books.

And then I waited. After about an hour, I poked the surface to see whether it was setting up -- and it was! But I left it for another five hours to be sure it was fully cooled and set before cutting it.

Cutting was surprisingly easy. I wanted a rectangular shape instead of squares to have some variety in the appearance of the bonbons that I would submit. Of course, you don't need a large batch of caramel to end up with an inordinate number of caramels. And when you're cutting them to be enrobed in chocolate, you actually need to account for the thickness of the coating so that you don't end up with a massive treat at the end. I think I ended up cutting this into 96 pieces. And then I was filled with regret: How was I going to enrobe 96 caramels in dark chocolate? Surely that would take forever. And the reality is, I only needed one perfectly dipped caramel to photograph and submit.

I tempered my dark chocolate and prepared for the great enrobing extravaganza. And I discovered something. While my caramel was the perfect texture for eating, it wasn't quite as firm as I would have wanted for enrobing in chocolate. While tempering the chocolate, the caramels had started to slump a little. I was mildly annoyed (and made a mental note to cook it to 260 the next time), but pressed on.

I probably enrobed about 30 pieces of my batch. Each one was dipped in chocolate and then, as per assignment requirements, embellished by tapping the tines of the dipping fork across the surface. It does create a very nice effect.

I wrapped the remaining (undipped) caramels in parchment wrappers. It occurred to me that, while I couldn't really mail my chocolates home to my parents to try -- too delicate without appropriate packaging, plus the cost (which would be about $15) -- I could easily send home molasses caramels. Not only were they less delicate, they also were thin enough to be packed in a bubble mailer and sent regular mail (for only $1.80). Knowing Trooper Ron loves molasses, I put together a package and sent them off. The others, I took to work and shared with friends.

It's perhaps a little difficult to see the detail in this picture -- dark chocolate is difficult to photograph, especially on a white background -- but I'm really happy with how these turned out. And I do plan to try the recipe again to see if I can get a slightly firmer texture that won't slump. Enrobed in chocolate, though, they came out looking like caramel logs -- not a bad outcome.

More importantly, I'm no longer afraid of cooking caramel. Maybe there will be fudge in my future.