Bite and Burn

I was going to name this post, "My on and off addiction to crack," but I thought people might get the wrong idea.

Back in what I think 1995 or 1996, I went to a conference in Portland, Oregon for work.   It was during that time that I found a variety of breath fresheners with the name of Cin-a-Clove.  I brought some home and I still have one little vial with three remaining orbs in it.   The breath freshener isn't available anymore, but ever since that time I've loved the flavors of cinnamon and clove together.

I make hard candy from time to time.  Usually I'll remember once or twice a year and get back into making candy in the afternoon.   Hard candy doesn't take long to make, usually from start to finish, candy packaged in bags and the kitchen cleaned up about an hour, so it's quick business.

I have lots of flavor oils, but the one I always make when it's just me making the candy is cinnamon and clove together.   I not only double the amount of oil, I quadruple it.   I put so much flavoring in that I have to stir quickly and aggressively to get it to mix in before the candy gets too cool.

The resulting candy pieces after cutting and cooling are strong clove with a big cinnamon bite.   It will take you unexpectedly if you aren't warned before trying a piece.    The thing is, once you have one piece, you have to have another piece.   It does something to the coating on your tongue (most likely kill off the top layer of cells) and you just have to have more.

I put the candy in small bags, because I invariably finish a bag whenever I start one.   I've looked at a nearly finished bag many a time and thought, "what am I going to do when there are no more?"   That in mind, be it politically correct or not, I named the candy, "Crack" years and years ago and the name has always stuck.

The Big Boy Update:  We were at the table at dinner when my husband offered to help my son cut the piece of calzone.   My son said, "no, no, no.  I'll do it the old fashioned way."

The Tiny Girl Chronicles:  My daughter went into the bathroom. shutting the door behind her this afternoon.   Things were quiet for a few minutes and then I heard her say, "mom, it's not a quesadilla, it's just a regular poop."