Vinegar Taffy
It was Sunday afternoon and I needed a sugar fix. We are trying to go two weeks between Winco intervals, and there wasn't a lot from which to choose. So I made vinegar taffy, after the recipe that Dan-o gave me, that I think he got from his grandma:
I lacked the candy thermometer but remember Dan-o teaching me what hard ball meant, and when it reached that point, the boys helped me pull it.
It was good and fun and reminded me of train watching in junior high and high school. Once, we made taffy at Dan-o's, watched a movie, and then went out to do doughnuts in the snow. The police pulled us over and interrogated us, one by one, to make sure our stories aligned.
When he interrogated me in the snow, about 30 feet from the cars, he said, "What did you guys do tonight?"
I'm like, "Well, we watched a movie--no wait, first, we made taffy, and then watched a movie, and then we did some doughnuts and then you pulled us over."
He launched into some lecture about hitting garbage cans and then fleeing. I denied doing so, but he was still skeptical. He called our parents and Dan-o's dad showed up first and said, "Boys will be boys."
Then Hobble's dad came and was like, "I got people stealing lumber off my lots every day and you're worried about these kids doing doughnuts? These are good kids. And the lack of tread on the back tires? This is a front wheel drive car."
Then my dad showed up and he was very displeased but didn't say much. I had several run-ins with the Utah police, but they were for benign things. Once, I was spraying the weeds at Dad's office. The police pulled over and asked, in a real stern tone,
"What are you doing?"
"Spraying for broad-leafed weeds."
"What are you using?" Again, the tone.
"2,4 dimethylamine salt."
"Two four, what? What is that stuff?"
"Weed-b-gone."
"Ah, weed-b-gone. And you get that, uh, you get that, uh, at, uh, where do you get it?"
"I get this at IFA but you can get it at Wal-mart."
"Oh. The grass looks nice. Just getting into landscaping myself. Have a nice day!" He stomped on the gas and took off in the crown vic.
Good grief. Woulda been better if he had started out, "You know, this yard always looks nice. How do you keep it up?" See, easy. I think they interrogated me about using diazinon, too. Eh, whatev.
So anyway, the taffy was good. Last night, though, Kira woke us up after having vomited all over herself and her bedsheets. We bathed her and then put her to bed with us, and then Scott complained about a tummy ache and barfed too. Woof. I can't stand the smell of vomit. Probably some food poisoning.
Vinegar Taffy:
2 cups sugar
1/2 cup water
1/4 cup vinegar
1 T. corn syrup
Stir vinegar and water together. Boil all ingredients together with lid on pan until sides of pan have been washed free of any sugar crystals. Boil on medium until it forms a hard ball when put in cold water (about 272 degrees on Taylor metal thermometer). Cool in buttered pie tin, turn sides in once, then stretch with buttered fingers until opaque.
I lacked the candy thermometer but remember Dan-o teaching me what hard ball meant, and when it reached that point, the boys helped me pull it.
It was good and fun and reminded me of train watching in junior high and high school. Once, we made taffy at Dan-o's, watched a movie, and then went out to do doughnuts in the snow. The police pulled us over and interrogated us, one by one, to make sure our stories aligned.
When he interrogated me in the snow, about 30 feet from the cars, he said, "What did you guys do tonight?"
I'm like, "Well, we watched a movie--no wait, first, we made taffy, and then watched a movie, and then we did some doughnuts and then you pulled us over."
He launched into some lecture about hitting garbage cans and then fleeing. I denied doing so, but he was still skeptical. He called our parents and Dan-o's dad showed up first and said, "Boys will be boys."
Then Hobble's dad came and was like, "I got people stealing lumber off my lots every day and you're worried about these kids doing doughnuts? These are good kids. And the lack of tread on the back tires? This is a front wheel drive car."
Then my dad showed up and he was very displeased but didn't say much. I had several run-ins with the Utah police, but they were for benign things. Once, I was spraying the weeds at Dad's office. The police pulled over and asked, in a real stern tone,
"What are you doing?"
"Spraying for broad-leafed weeds."
"What are you using?" Again, the tone.
"2,4 dimethylamine salt."
"Two four, what? What is that stuff?"
"Weed-b-gone."
"Ah, weed-b-gone. And you get that, uh, you get that, uh, at, uh, where do you get it?"
"I get this at IFA but you can get it at Wal-mart."
"Oh. The grass looks nice. Just getting into landscaping myself. Have a nice day!" He stomped on the gas and took off in the crown vic.
Good grief. Woulda been better if he had started out, "You know, this yard always looks nice. How do you keep it up?" See, easy. I think they interrogated me about using diazinon, too. Eh, whatev.
So anyway, the taffy was good. Last night, though, Kira woke us up after having vomited all over herself and her bedsheets. We bathed her and then put her to bed with us, and then Scott complained about a tummy ache and barfed too. Woof. I can't stand the smell of vomit. Probably some food poisoning.
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