Candy

If you’ve visited Mexico, you’ve probably tried these goat’s milk caramel candies mixed with pecans and wrapped in bright red cellophane paper. The name gloria means “glorious,” and that’s exactly what these confections are. There are many versions of this candy made primarily in Linares, a city located in the south of Nuevo Leon. This recipe requires patience and a candy thermometer, but it isn’t difficult and the candies make very nice gifts.

One of my mom’s friends, Yoya, gave me this family recipe long ago and I absolutely love it. Because you caramelize the sugar early in the process, the time it takes to prepare the caramel is much shorter than with other recipes. These make wonderful gifts and are nice to have around for guests.

One of my favorite candy stores in Puebla is called El Lirio. The owner of the store, Sara Martinez Muñoz, is a lovely woman with white hair and a fighting spirit, who loves to play jokes on her customers. She says that when she sees couples entering the store unsure of what to get, she quietly asks the woman to give her partner a little kiss (which is the name of the candy). Most hesitate, but then oblige—how could they refuse a nice old lady? As they approach the counter, she slowly walks with her cane toward the edge of it, and as the man bends over, she hands him a besito. Invariably they laugh and blush, but it is all soon forgotten once they take a bite of this delicacy. She says the name comes from the fact that they are small and delicious and leave you wanting more, the way a real kiss does.

I have not been able to have these for a very long time because I became allergic to peanuts about fifteen years ago, but I always looked for them on my way to the movies when I was little. It was one of my favorite treats—a long tube of soft plastic, filled with crunchy, sweet red balls that never lasted through the movie. I never realized or even questioned how they were made, but I definitely remember being fascinated by the idea that each peanut was encapsulated in a sugary, crunchy coating. I have not put any food coloring in these because I prefer the caramel color, and I don’t think the traditional red adds anything to the recipe. I am certain you will end up making these again and again.

Chihuahua, a state in the north of Mexico, is filled with nogales, the pecan tree that adorns many of the valleys and towns in the area, and there are hundreds of dishes and desserts where the pecan is the featured star. One of my favorite pecan recipes is this one prepared by Marisela Chavez de Romo, a very kind and sweet woman who opened her home to me and showed me the proper way to select and clean pecans during an afternoon of pecan-based recipes. These wonderful treats are special because of their unexpected molassy flavor.

These delicious candies are made with milk and sugar that is slowly and patiently cooked (most often in heavy copper pots). There are several variations as well, two of which are below. During my travels in Mexico, I never met any candy makers who used a thermometer because they rely on knowledge, feeling, and instinct, but if you have one I suggest you use it (see page 13) and slowly train your eye. When the recipe asks you to beat the mixture at the end, do not use the spoon you have been stirring with, because any leftover sugar will cause the mixture to rapidly crystallize (if for some reason this happens, though, it makes a delicious ice cream topping).

Imagine a sticky, messy, sweet, syrupy, crunchy ball. It’s the kind of sweet dentists warn you about (my dad has endured many painful visits to such because he absolutely loves them). They are sold by street vendors outside bus and subway stations, churches, and movie theaters; in parks, at festivals, and occasionally in candy shops. I never met anyone who actually makes these, and I found very few recipes, because, as with many sweets in Mexico, we tend to buy from people who have made a particular candy for generations. I want to thank Jose Luis Curiel, a wonderful professor and historian, for giving me this recipe.

Brittles in Mexico are made with honey, piloncillo, all sorts of nuts, and sesame seeds. There are different kinds depending on the area, but overall they tend to be a bit too hard so I like to add a little butter and baking soda, which gives them a wonderful crunch without breaking your jaw. The brittle can also be ground in a food processor and used to top ice cream.

I remember the first time I tried these treats. I may not know exactly where I was or how young I was, but I do remember the sweet smile and piloncillo-colored eyes of the lady who sold them to me; I remember her braided hair intertwined with yellow ribbons and can almost feel the touch of her hand as she handed me the white fluffy, shiny cloud on a thin piece of banana leaf. I remember trying it and loving it. Be sure to read the recipe all the way through before you begin. You can also choose to cut the nougat into pieces. In that case, spread the mixture with a moistened spatula over the banana leaf or a nonstick mat, allow to dry, and cut into the desired size.

Legend has it that this “happiness” candy got its name in the middle of the sixteenth century, when Fray Martín de Valencia prepared a mixture of puffed amaranth seeds and honey; when the indigenous people tried it, they were so happy they began to sing, dance, and play music like they did in many pre-Hispanic rituals and continue to do in the yearly alegría festival that takes place in Tulyehualco. Alegría remains one of the oldest candies in Mexico, but it is now made with sugar or honey and piloncillo. In the tropical climates of Veracruz, I tried some incredibly crispy ones, which really surprised me because of the humidity of the region; a man who has been making these treats for more than forty years told me that his trick was to add some glucose. This wonderful nutritious and historical candy is shaped into rounds or blocks and is often decorated with nuts, pumpkin seeds, and raisins, as I have done here.

I know you’re probably thinking, bean candy? That doesn’t sound too good. I was doubtful, too, but I was pleasantly surprised and excited about this wonderful recipe. I am deeply grateful to our dear family friend Amado for getting this recipe that came from his friend. The beans are cooked with cinnamon, puréed, and cooked again with orange juice and sugar. After awhile of stirring, the flavors begin to come together and a wonderful chest nutlike texture is achieved. The paste is then formed into balls and rolled in sugar. I love giving it to people to try and guess what the main ingredient is. Although only one person out of about thirty is able to guess, they all really like it. The original recipe is made with dark raisins, but I prefer to use currants.

Popcorn has been eaten in Mexico since pre-Hispanic times and has remained a favorite snack when combined with the sweet molassy flavor of piloncillo. The butter in the caramel makes the sweetness of the honey and piloncillo come together. This recipe isn’t time consuming but requires close attention because the caramel can burn in seconds if you’re not careful.

These candies were supposedly created in the Santa Clara convent in the state of Puebla and are sold everywhere in that state. They are long, cigar-shaped pieces of sugary sweet potato flavored with different fruits (mostly using flavorings and added colorings), but this is the basic recipe without any distractions. They are usually made with white sweet potato, but I prefer the flavor of the yellow or orange kind. Although it takes a couple of days to dry out, you can also serve it on a platter once it has cooled (and then you won’t even have to wait to eat it) the way many desserts were served in convents, and decorate it with some fresh pineapple on top.

Jamoncillos come in different shapes and sizes, but they are always deliciously sweet (very sweet), fudgelike candies. Some of the best I’ve had are prepared by the Hernandez family in Toluca. This three-generation family-run business is set up in their home. The copper pots are filled with raw cow’s or goat’s milk, and while some stir as it cooks down with sugar for many hours, other members of the family are busy pouring or cutting different candies out on the sunny patio. The flavors they have never cease to surprise me, including lime, pine nut, coffee, papaya, guava, and coconut, to name a few. I wanted to include at least one candy recipe in the book that wasn’t as time-consuming as the others, so this is a modern adaptation of a classic. It will definitely not be as good as the ones the Hernandez family makes, but they did inspire me to play around with a few variations that will surely please anyone with a sweet tooth.

Jamoncillo is the name of many different candies in Mexico, but they are usually firm on the outside and soft when you bite into them. Most commonly, you will see them in slices or blocks and made only from a couple of ingredients. This particular one is made from pumpkin seeds and sugar and is found primarily in central Mexico. The paste is often used to make alfeñiques, or figures in various shapes. In Jalapa, Veracruz, you can still visit some convents where they make beautiful peach shapes that are molded around a square of wine-soaked cake. Traditionally, this particular recipe was tinted using grana cochinilla, a small insect that comes from a cactus plant and is used to this day for its incredible vibrant red color. I’ve substituted it in this recipe with food coloring, but you can always leave it out. This preparation is a bit time consuming because you have to soak the pumpkin seeds overnight and peel them, but the result is well worth the effort.

This recipe takes very little time to make but amazes everyone. The natural oil from the peanuts, or any other nut you are using, comes out when you grind it, and the sugar barely holds this crumbly, nutty sweetness together.

PAT Gina would happily eat cashew brittle any time of day or night. She calls it “a crunch of heaven.” When I’m in the doghouse, this is usually what gets me back in my bed and off the sofa. So, fellows, if you are like me and never know the right gift to purchase for your wife or girlfriend, make this fantastic dessert (featuring a smooth and buttery pudding to dip the brittle into) and she will forget all about whatever mistake you may have made (or wrongheaded gift you may have bought). GINA This butterscotch-pudding recipe is very special to me. Growing up, I was always fidgety (especially in church). So my mom and my great-great-grandmother (Mama Callie) would always give me butterscotch candies to keep me still. To this day, I go all soft and quiet when I taste its buttery, rich, and smooth flavor. But the cashew brittle has a story to go with it, too. When I was pregnant with Shelbi, brittle was the only quick fix for my cravings. Pat would buy it by the pound; I’m sure people thought he was crazy, but at the time he didn’t know how to make it. We finally made it on the show as a tribute to that crazy time in our lives. Combining these two favorite flavors, with so much meaning and good memories behind them, is my version of sweet, salty, smooth, and crunchy heaven. This is as good as Christmas morning—new-shoes-and-a-handbag happy.

Just a hint of chocolate at the end of the party completes the evening—and these taste fabulous with the Bellinis. Run your hands under cold water (and dry well each time) while you’re rolling the truffles into balls to prevent the chocolate from melting in your hands (and ruining your manicure . . . ).

These lend a spicy bite to just about any green salad, particularly Crispy Smoked Quail Salad with Bourbon-Molasses Dressing (p. 127). But they’re also a delicious snack to serve with any of the killer cocktails in the last chapter.