The Joy of Cooking

Last week, with Christmas fast approaching, and being overcome with its festive spirit, I decided to make a quick batch of Peppermint Bark after seeing a recipe on Amy's blog. This promised to be a no-fail recipe as long as you were capable of mastering exactly two skills: melting and pouring. So pretty much anyone over the age of nine ought to be able to handle it. Fine.

Here's how it went:

Directions:
1. Put wax paper over a cookie sheet.
Done. Took, like, two seconds.

2. Over a double boiler (make one with a pot of water about 2 inches deep and put a glass bowl on top), melt the milk chocolate chips.
Okay. So I find a glass bowl, prop it precariously over a pot of boiling water. This arrangement is called a "double boiler" so I probably should let the water get really hot, right? Wrong. I dump in the chocolate chips into the very hot glass bowl. The melting goes according to plan for about thirty seconds at which point the chips congeal into a grotesque, stiff, chocolate mass. They are burned. Strike one.

Grotesque chocolate ball is thrown into the sink. Thankfully, I have another $3.50 bag of Ghiradelli's finest chocolate chips on hand. This time I turn the stove down so the water is not quite so hot. I dump bag two into the glass bowl. I start to stir the chocolate. Everything is going according to plan until one stir proves to be too much for the precariously balanced glass bowl which tips over into the water, splashing it everywhere. Turns out, the water is still quite hot and it is scalding my face. I try to rescue attempt #2, but it has been tainted with hot water and is now a grotesque, stiff, chocolate mass. It joins its brother in the sink. That's $7.00 of chocolate down the drain, literally.

I'm out of chocolate chips. Being equally determined as I am angry at this point, I spot a bag of Nestle chocolate bells. I unwrap all 800 individually wrapped candies in the bag and place them in the secure glass bowl which is in the now lukewarm water. Ten minutes later, they are melting beautifully. Nice.

3. Add 1/2 tsp. peppermint extract.

4. Pour onto cookie sheet and spread.
Oh, that's easy. I pour the chocolate onto the sheet and admire my work. And then I read instruction #3. Crap! Since I missed the boat on adding the peppermint extract before, I decide to sprinkle the extract over the chocolate cookie sheet and carefully stir it in with a spatula before it hardens. Whatever works. Or doesn't work. Frankly, at this point I don't care whether it does or not.

5. Chill in fridge for 15 minutes.
Ahh. My favorite cooking instruction: chill.

6. Melt white chocolate chips the same way you melted the milk chocolate chips.
My initial reaction to this is, "oh, great." This time, I am successful on my first, very careful, melting attempt.

7. Add 1/2 tsp. peppermint extract.
Ah ha! You will not elude me again, peppermint extract! I start measuring a tsp of extract, holding the extract over the bowl of chocolate. While in the very process of triumphing over the extract, it slips (inexplicably) from my grip and lands in the chocolate, emptying nearly all of its contents in said chocolate. GAHH! I pour out what excess extract I can and then just stir in the rest--probably closer to a Tbsp than a tsp.

8. Pour over milk chocolate. Spread.
Using my peppermint-stained hands, I pour the white chocolate over the milk chocolate.

4. Sprinkle crushed candy canes.
I decided to use non-traditional candy canes. They are the butter mint type canes that are softer and yummier. I expect they will be simple enough to crush; however, they are harder than diamonds. I use the following tools to crush the canes: rolling pin, spoon, ice cream scoop handle, different spoon, garlic press. Meanwhile, I hear George Bailey on the TV about to jump off a bridge and I start thinking he's got the right idea. However, by alternating tools and positions, the canes become sufficiently crushed after fifteen minutes. I have sore arm muscles the next day. Seriously.

5. Chill.
Finally!

6. Enjoy!!!
At this point, I can't make any promises.

In many ways, my Peppermint Bark experience is a metaphor for the past year. Amazingly, the peppermint bark turned out pretty good in the end despite the tribulation. And I learned a lot about myself in the process. And it cost way more money than I expected.


The rest of our Christmas festivities were wildly successful. More to come on that later.