By Lorry Myers
Year after year I express my concerns, but it doesn’t seem to get any better. If anything, time has worsened the situation and I am beginning to believe that soon, no one will even understand what I’m whining about. I know the world is full of real issues and mine is on the frivolous list, but every year, I have to ask.
“Where did all the Divinity go?”
You remember Divinity, the seasonal treat that was the star of your grandmother’s holiday candy tray. The covered peanuts were always there, and the chocolate fudge was pretty good, but that Divinity, with its white peaks of sugary goodness, was and still is, my favorite.
Divinity is a little piece of heaven.
Because of its degree of difficulty, Divinity is not a frequently handed down recipe. It appears easy to make and the ingredients are usually what you have on hand, Still, there is something about the process that discourages even the most experienced candy maker. Apparently, the weather must be just right, the moon in the proper place, and all the planets aligned. When an experienced Divinity maker describes the cooking process, it sounds like a chemistry experiment in a laboratory. The Divinity cook must have intuitive timing, be able to judge the boil, and make certain split-second timing decisions.
Divinity making is a science.
For years, I devotedly tried to recreate my grandmother’s Divinity. I even forced my children to help, determined to keep my favorite homemade treat on future candy trays. During those Divinity making days, the house was filled with the sounds of kettles clanging and beaters beating. We would try and fail and then try again, making adjustments after each disaster. In the process, we stopped-up the garbage disposal, thew away pans with spoons stuck inside, and lit candles to cover the smell of scorched sugar.
Chemistry just isn’t my thing.
For the complete column, see this week’s edition of the Centralia Fireside Guard.