Forever Young

by Bob Dylan

May God bless and keep you always
May your wishes all come true.
May you always do for others
and let others do for you.
May you build a ladder to the stars
and climb on every rung
and may you stay
Forever young.

May your hands always be busy
May your feet always be swift
May you have a strong foundation
when the wind of changes shift.
May your heart always be joyful
May your song always be sung
and may you stay
Forever young.

Until 2010;
Resolve to eat something wonderful
and plan to live a life worth loving.
-Kim

Fondue

2 cups Gruyere cheese (shredded)
1 cup dry white wine
2 tablespoons of the same white wine
1 tblspn cornstarch
1 teaspoon Kirsch
½ tspn garlic

Heat 1 cup white wine with the garlic.
When the wine is at a low simmer, add 1 handful of cheese.
Create slurry with the 2 tblespns wine and 1 tblspn cornstarch.
Add half of slurry to pot.
As cheese melts and becomes integrated into wine, add one more handful, whisk and integrate and so on until all the cheese is smooth.
Add Kirsch, stir in and serve with crusty bread cubes and assortment of dippers.

Fondue means “Melted” in French. That’s pretty much the extent of my Fondue history knowledge. However, I’m hoping that will change over the next few months as I explore the gooey and delicious world of Fondue.
You see, my step-son, (Carl), and his beautiful wife (Shayna) sent Walt and me at Fondue pot for Christmas. When we visited them in early November, we had mentioned that we were looking into Fondue pots.
They sent us the most lovely set from Amazon. It’s an electric Fondue pot (exactly what I was looking for).
For a moment, and I know you won’t bring this up to me later, allow me to proffer a bit of information involving my Fondue experience. I am a product of the ‘60’s and ‘70’s. So I do remember those pots over sterno or candles that used to burn the bottom of the cheese. But I love the idea of the communal pot, dipping scrumptious morsels into a pot of warm gooey cheese. Who doesn’t, really?
Also I don’t remember my first experience with fondue, I do have a recollection of my first “Fondue Restaurant”. I was visiting my friend Jo-ann, and she and a friend of hers, went to a Fondue Restaurant. I don’t recall the name of the restaurant; I think it was something like “The little dipper”. There was a huge bough of a boat in the restaurant, which also boasted a “live white alligator”. I was very excited at the prospect of going to a restaurant that would serve us yummy gooey cheese. I had forgotten about the “other” fondue. You know the one, where you cook small bites of raw meat in a pot of oil. This fondue is the one that my sophisticated companions wanted to enjoy. A small bond fire was lit under a pot of oil at our table. Bits of raw meat of an assortment (beef and chicken) were brought to our table. I recall mushrooms and other sides being brought as well.
From this experience, I learned two things:
1) I don’t like raw meat being brought to my restaurant table.
2) If I wanted to cook my own steak one bite at a time, I could do that at home.

That, plus concept of “boiling oil” at the table (maybe one too many fairy tails or Disney films as a child, I guess) had me very skittish.
But to be honest, the food was good and the experience was a fun adventure for me.
Many years later, Walt, as a romantic evening, too me to Melting Pot.
A split of sparkling wine, a lovely salad and a spinach and artichoke cheese fondue later, I was in love with Fondue again. To finish, we had chocolate fondue, which was decadent and sensual.
So we decided to try to find a fondue pot and enjoy the experience at home. Thanks to Carl & Shayna, we were able to do just that last night.
Although the recipe calls for Kirsch, I had none in the house. The fondue was wonderful luxuriant.
I was concerned that it might be a more difficult process, than it appears and recipes had led me to believe. It is a very simple dish, heat the wine, whisk in the cheese and slurry and eureka! Fondue!!
The recipe we had filled our pot up to ¾ full, which I was sure we would have leftover cheese. Bit by bit, bite by bite, before we knew it, the fondue disappeared.
I’m doing the fondue again for my bereavement group, meeting tomorrow.

Until next time;
Eat something wonderful
and live a life worth loving.
--Kim

My Little Baby Boy

by Kimberly A. Danbert

Soft rays of starlight fell to ease
the darkness of the night
Inside the stable they had found;
the only place in sight
Her small frame racked from travel
and then labor in the cold,
Joseph handed her their infant son
for her to feed and hold.
He baptized her with baby’s tears.
She stroked his tiny head,
And then she kissed both of his eyes
While Joseph made a bed.
Then, in a voice imbued with hope,
to soothe the baby’s cry,
as she rocked the Son of God,
She sang this lullaby.

When you grow to be a man
You’ll heal the sick and lame.
You’ll raise the dead and teach great truths.
Emmanuel’s your name.
An angel told me you would come
to bring the world great joy.
But through my eyes,
within my heart
And in my arms
you’ll always be
my little baby boy.


The darkness fell on all the earth
when He was crucified.
They took Him down off of the cross
and laid Him at her side.
Her thin frame racked with travel
and the labors of the years;
she rocked the body of the Lord
and bathed Him with her tears.
She stroked his matted hair
and she kissed him on both eyes.
Then, with a weak and weary voice,
sang one last lullaby.

My son, you’ve been a holy man
and now you are despised.
I know, that in a little while
you’ll cheat death and you’ll rise.
An angel told me you would come
to bring the world great joy;
But through my eyes,
within my heart
and in my arms
you’ll always be
my little baby boy.

********************

Until next time,

Merry Christmas

and God Bless us

Every

One.

My “Baby” Cousin, Tracey

In my advanced age (I’m 50); one might think it’s a bit late in life for me to be becoming acquainted with my family. For me, it’s amazing revelation that is more welcome than I can truly describe.
The Morgan family is related to me through my mother. Mom didn’t have any sister’s and brothers, but did/does have cousins. My Grandma Midge is Tracey’s great aunt. I think that’s the closest I can come to defining how we are related.
It was in the 1980’s that my mom announced we were going to a family reunion, to Ohio that summer,. I was surprised and confused. We hadn’t lived in Michigan since I was 2 years old. So I hadn’t had a lot of experience with extended family. We moved to Florida in 1965. When we did, there was a long parade of relatives who came to visit. I sort of surmised that this family reunion (we were going to attend) was going to be comprised of those relatives of which I had vague memories. I was wrong. I am wrong often.
First, I will mention, and this has no real bearing on my story, my mom had not fully prepared me for what I would experience. I am 4’ 10” and spent most of my Jr high, High School, and adult life contending with munchkin, midget and dwarf jokes. There was only one other gal who was “vertically challenged” in school and we defended each other vorateously.
Meeting a good deal of the Morgan family eye-to-eye was profound for me.
I think I felt like a Little Person attending her first LP convention.
It was wonderful for me to feel so…at home.

My memories of Tracey are fragmented and brief and fleeting. I remember first meeting her. She has large and brilliant eyes, which put Carolina skies to shame. She had a 60 watt smile that lit up the entire room. She had a guileless enthusiasm that was infectious. She was stunning. Well, all of the Morgan girls are stunning. The Morgan boys (men) are heart-stoppingly handsome.
This WAS a bit of a problem for me at the reunion, I will confess.
I didn’t get to spend a great amount of time with her at the reunion, but she made an impression.

The next time I met Tracey made a sharper impact. It was at my Gram Midge’s funeral. It was my first family funeral. Actually, it was the first funeral I had ever attended at all. A HUGE woman came up to me. I was mindlessly thanking people for coming (prior to the service). The woman was wearing the same outfit as my mother. I was still jet-lagged, sleep deprived, not to mention grief stricken and I had a migraine headache left over from the previous night. Even with all of those disadvantages, I looked at the woman and had one clear thought.
“Please don’t be related to me.”
Bleary-eyed, I queried “I’m sorry, who are you?”
Obviously insulted at my question, with a biting tone, she said to me “I’m Willa”.
I looked at her for a long and probing moment, hoping for the three cherries to drop into slots and recognition to spew forward from my addled brain.
It didn’t.
What happened next was almost miraculous to me. I was standing there, stupefied and cold. Suddenly, this bright angel interrupted, intervened.
I found myself being hugged by a beautiful blond young woman. She smelled good. She gave me a warm hug and said to me (as though we had spoken the previous night) “We were running late, but I made it.”
I remember hugging her back and the warmth emanating from her dark coat.
She said only “I’m so sorry”.
I remember thanking her.
She ebbed away, joining Uncle Ted and Aunt Jean and I remembered.
She’s Tracey.
Blessedly, she changed my focus and I completely abandoned “Willa” and moved to find mom to tell her the Morgans had arrived.

Move forward too many years to innumerate. I had a page on Facebook that I had all but abandoned. One day, I found myself visiting my page to do some maintenance and there, on my page, was a message…from Tracey.
She was expressing her sympathies for Mom’s passing and saying we were in their thoughts and prayers.
It was sweet and very touching.
I tapped out a thank you, expecting that she would “ebb away” as before.
She hasn’t.
This Christmas she’s expressed how hard she knows it must be for me.
She’s read this blog.
She’s told me about the rest of the Morgan clan.
She’s treated me like family.
She’s taken me in, as family.
She’s made me believe in “family”, again.
It is with a sore and tender heart, that is beating again, I remember Tracey, my cousin, and her family, in my own Christmas prayers.
God bless them deeply.
Keep them safe and warm.
Keep them healthy, until I can see them again.

Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim

Pineapple Gooey Butter Cake

#2 in Adventures in using the Perfect Brownie Baking Pan

*From Paula Dean, via Foodnetwork.com (with a twist or two of my own)

For “Crust”
1 Box Pineapple cake mix
1 stick of butter (melted)
1 egg

For “Filling”
1 8-oz bar of Cream Cheese
1 stick of butter (melted)
3 eggs
1 Box Confectioner’s sugar
1 20-oz can of crushed pineapple
1 tsp vanilla extract

Preheat oven at 350 degrees.
In a mixing bowl, combine ingredients for “crust”. I used my hand mixer for this.
Then press this mixture into your pan. I used my 2 Perfect Brownie Baking Pans.

Then combine ingredients for filling. I used the same mixing bowl, Paula did when I saw her make it and it wasn’t a problem. I mix until smooth. I would also mention that I pressed the juice out of the Pineapple because I didn’t want a runny filling.
I divided the mixture between the two pans.
Bake for 60 minutes.

One important note: If you are using the Perfect Brownie baking pans, be sure to use a good baking spray on it for this cake. This is a sticky, gooey and dense cake and will stick to the separators in baking if you don’t prepare the pan properly.

The Gooey Butter Cake is something I found on the Foodnetwork, about four years ago. It happened, it was just before Walt’s Holiday luncheon, at work. It seemed to be a simple and quick cake with a lot of pop, so I gave it a try. It looked and smelled fine coming out of the oven. I remember wanting a taste, but not being able to find a way to do that, without it looking like a dessert “previously loved” when Walt put it on the banquet table.
When Walt came home, the reviews were very interesting and welcome. He told me, at first , it was kind of “ignored” because people didn’t know what it was. Then someone did try it and THEN people were going back for seconds and thirds. As I recall, Walt had to rush to get a piece for himself before it was all gone.
There are a lot of variations of this recipe, listed on the website. My husband loves coconut. So last year, I added coconut extract and ¾ cup flaked sweetened coconut to the filling, and it was very well received.
A note of caution: Do not overcook this cake. Be watchful. If you over-bake this cake, the crust will get hard…not just crunchy…really hard.

Until next time,
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving
-Kim

Kim's VERY Cherry White Chocolate Chip Cookies

Ingredients
1 stick butter, softened
1 cup packed brown sugar
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
¼ tsp Almond extract
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons milk
1 cup chopped pecans
1/2 cup candied cherries
1 cups white chocolate chips
¾ to 1 cup dried cherries (chopped)
Directions
Preheat oven to 375 degrees F.
In a medium bowl, with electric mixer, cream butter and sugars together until light and fluffy. Add eggs , vanilla and almond extract and beat until just combined. Set aside.
Sift together flour, soda, and salt. Add milk to the butter mixture and then add the flour mixture. Mix until just combined. Batter should be stiff.
In another bowl, combine pecans, dried cherries, and white chocolate chips. Coat this mixture with a light dusting of flour (this helps these pieces to distribute through the dough. Then add to batter, stirring only to blend. I used a small ice cream scooper (about 1 ½ inch or 2 inch scoop) and then rolled the cookies into balls. This helps the cookies not to spread so much and remain thicker through out the middle of the cookie. This technique produces a more “chewy cookie”, rather than a crisp one.
I got 3 across and 3 down on my cookie sheet. Then with damp fingers, I pressed the cookie down just a small amount, and pressed a candied cherry into the center of each cookie.
Don’t forget to spray your cookie sheet with Pam (or something comparable).
.Bake for approximately 11 to 13 minutes. Cool on wire rack.
I got 28 out of my batch of dough.

First , it should be said that the basic recipe for this cookie was from Paula Dean, Food Network, White chocolate cherry chunk cookie recipe.
I made some changes, that, I think, makes this an amazing holiday cookie (if I do say so myself).
We don’t keep Macadamia nuts in the house. I laid in scads of pecans and walnuts in store for my baking this year. I’m planning on using the walnuts for Walt’s favorite chocolate/toll house cookies, so I elected the pecans for this cookie. It turns out, it was the right choice. The pecans are the perfect marriage with the slightly sophisticated aura of this cookie.
The almond extract lends a smattering of exotic flavor to the cookie part of this tasty morsel.
The white chocolate chips are very sweet, almost too sweet for me…but then there is something else. The dried cherries are sour and break the sugary aspect of the cookie. This gives the cookie something Ina Garten (of Barefoot Countessa fame) calls “depth of flavor”.
The candied cherry in the middle makes the cookie look festive, but when you eat it, especially if you save it for “last” , it’s like eating the maraschino cherry at the end of a high ball.

Until Next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim

The Ordinary becomes the Exquisite

This Christmas I am doing so many things I haven’t done in (it seems) an age. I have been (and continue to) bake like one of Santa’s manic elves (no offense intended to people who are manic, or elves, btw). I still have snickerdoodles and the beloved standard chocolate chip cookies to bake.
Yesterday, Walt and I did Christmas tasks, and I was enrobed with a sense of normalcy, and holiday warmth that I haven’t had the time to enjoy in so very long a time.
(Queue Bing Crosby music here)

When Walt and I first began dating, he asked me out to take me Christmas shopping.
Hearing that, I began to have more doubts about his sanity. I say “more doubts” because, well, he’s a die-hard RAMS fan. No man in my life had ever voluntarily offered to take me Christmas shopping. To be honest, most of the Christmas shopping in years past, was done by my mother and me together, or me, myself and I.
Knowing what a tedious chore I found Christmas shopping, I declined. Now I know that was a mistake. I make those. I make a lot of them.
Back to the topic at hand.
Yesterday I had a list of tasks that rivaled Santa’s “Nice & Naughty” list , only mine was of tasks to be accomplished. We needed to pick up some stocking stuffers for one of mom’s caregivers. She has become a friend, I don’t see nearly often enough. She cares for her elderly mother, has 5 children. Her husband is disabled from work with a back injury. She supports her family as a home health aid. She is also attending college.
Walt refurbished two of her computer towers for her to give her kids this Christmas.
So Sunday morning, we trekked up to Cocoa to one of my favorite Big Lots. On the way we had breakfast together. I loved that.
We shopped and found a few treasures, including a giant coloring book of Disney princesses for her 4 year old daughter , Heavan. I found myself wondering "Why wasn't there something like this when I was a little girl?". We got 3 virtual pets (I each for her younger kids) and pair of small Jets that transform into….something (shrugs).
We bought popcorn for the family. (sighs) I have to admit, it was fun and Elf-satisfying.
Walt found my gift-wrapping station, and when I came home, I began the task of gift wrapping.
Ok, to be honest, I have wrapped presents in the last five years. The last three years seem like a blur of Christmas wrap, being on my feet for hours upon hours, as I wrapped presents for my sister’s family, my husband, my mom, my husbands office mates and my friends. An aching back and numb feet and that regrettable habit I have of brushing my hair out of my face with my hand, seems to punctuate my memories of this past task which I had to “get done”.
This year, I had a good time wrapping the few presents I needed to wrap. All items wrapped sweetly and tagged and in their area to be taken to their destinations.
I made a present for Nella, my friend since 1981. Then set to the task of writing Christmas cards.
I love receiving them and seldom send them. This year, I had pictures to send of me, Walt and mom at the Melting Pot, which I wanted to send to relatives. I found myself getting into a solitary zone as I wrote the cards. I found myself asking myself “why don’t you do this every year?”. The answer came swiftly. Over the last two years, I’ve barely had time to do essential life-sustaining tasks during the holidays.
I found it amazingly peaceful, writing to my relatives, saying “Thank you for your support this year” .
I found it fulfilling writing to a few friends to say “I wish you blessings and we love you” .
When I finished with my small stack, I had a sincere sense of accomplishment.
Not the harried , irritable feeling, I had in recent years. The vague memory of “there, that’s done!” But a sweet thought of “I hope they smile when they open this card.”
The sense in my soul that Christmas, at last, has come home.

Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.
-Kim

Dear 2009,

Today I was watching Starz network. They had an advertisement for the network, which began:
“Dear 2009,
This year you really dished it out. We took the hits. But one thing brought us together.”
Listening to that, I thought “truer words were never spoken”. Ok that isn’t quite accurate. Thousands of profundities have been uttered by greater minds than mine.
But for me, the message was clear and resounding.
The year is almost over and I and my dear husband survived and persevered through it all.
This year (in may) , my chronically ill mom, (for whom I was caregiver 24/7) became catastrophically ill (in May) and then died. On July 4th, in the dark of a sparkling Independence Day night, two small and tired hearts stopped beating.

One for a second,
and one for forever.

Weeping uncontrollably didn’t help. Meeting with my siblings didn’t help. Hugging my cats didn’t help. She was just gone, like vapor.
My husband, who helped me in every conceivable way, during mom’s illness, was felled by his own grief and the mounting demands at work.
Yet, we clung to each other like survivors of the Titanic, set a drift in icy and unknown waters.
I joined a local Hospice, Grief-recovery group. I learned a great amount from the women in the group. We still meet. Without them, I know I would still be lost in the abyss for eternity upon eternity.
When I think of life events that bring people together, probably one of the last experiences I would have believed capable, would be grief.
My experience in life had taught me that women who venture into my life and warrant my trust will betray me.
And yet, a group of women, who were complete strangers, understood the fathomless fall I was taking. They gave me compassion. They shared their own pain and mine.
They reminded me of the silent poetry of suffering.
And Walt, I can hardly say what he’s done for me, this year. Gasping anxious breaths in the middle of night, having my umpteenth nightmare about moms painful and demoralizing illness, I would roll over in bed, and there he was. Laying my head on his warm chest, I would (eventually) fall asleep to the sound of his heart-beat. Almost as though his heart were echoing “it’s ok…don’t struggle. Let the sleep come”.
2009 was one of the most traumatic years I can recall.
However, I’m experiencing one of the most potent events of my lifetime;
The miracle of recovery.
It is with this in my heart that I light another candle, remembering my beloved mom,
this time saying:
“I miss you so much I can barely breathe.
But I’m doing ok.
And I’m not alone.”

Until next time;
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving!
-Kim

Making Irish Soda Bread

Kim’s Modified Whole Wheat Oatmeal Soda Bread (for 2 loaves)
3 ½ cups flour total:
2 cup cake flour
2 cups all purpose white flour
½ cup whole wheat flour
1 cup rolled oatmeal (ground)
2 tsp baking soda
1 tsp salt
2 cups buttermilk
¼ cup brown sugar
1 cup dark raisins (soaked in water, at least 30 minutes)
1 large egg
½ stick butter cut into cubes
*Also need 2 tablespoons flour for raisins

Preheat oven: 400
Put raisins to soak.. Sift dry ingredients together. Mix dry ingredients with butter until the consistency of damp sand. Slowly mix in buttermilk mixed with egg. Dust the drained raisins with flour and fold into mixture.

Place into two (oiled or buttered) loaf pans. Allow to set 20-30 minutes.
Bake for 1 hour.
Allow loaves to sit in pans for 5-10 minutes when taken from oven. Then decant into a wire rack. While loafs are still warm, massage loaves with butter to keep crust supple

This Christmas I have learned that it is true what is said about
“God closing one door and somewhere opening a window”.
You might wonder what this has to Irish Soda Bread. I will elucidate.
Several years ago (nearly seven, I think) I had a dear friend named Tammy.
I met her through Walt’s work. She had some serious relationship (marriage) problems and seemed to need me (us). After several years of her issues and my own problems, I began to sink into despair and on the advice of my (then) counselor, I severed the association. Maybe it wasn’t the best resolution of the problem, but at the time, it was the only one I had.
This year, I’ve been thinking very much about Tammy, and I asked Walt to find her contact information. I have learned that when someone is much on my mind, I usually end up running into them or hearing about them, or talking to them.
Walt emailed her, and that very day she called and that very night the four of us (with Tammy’s new beau, Michael) had dinner at Olive Garden.
It was as if the seven years disappeared in an instant and we were laughing and telling stories and catching up. It was wonderful. It did miraculous things for my mourning and (lately) lonely soul.
During our dinner we learned that Tammy and Michael had traveled to Ireland.
It reminded Walt and me of the transporting experiences we had, when we were in Ireland. Lovely cliffs punctuated the oceanic horizon, when we visited Waterford & Wexford. Just the thought of it had me remembering the rustic and warm aura in the shoppette in the village just off the cliffs. The hamlet was redolent with whiffs of Blahs and scones and the most comforting bit of baking—Irish Soda Bread.
Walt took a walk each morning to the shoppette, in the biting cold. There, he bought a loaf of Irish soda bread, and other staples (baked fresh for the day) for our little group. He would, then, take one loaf or scone for himself and consume it, reverently, on the cliffs, in the dawning Irish morn’.
This very morning, as I was talking to Tammy, I was pleased to hear that she and Michael had visited the pubs in Ireland and fallen in love, as we had, with Irish Soda bread. It reminded me that I have baked Irish Soda Bread, and, well,.. it is the holidays.
So I began amending a recipe I have, so I could make two loaves; one to keep and one to share (-see future blog on the topic of “Breadequette”). Soon I was soaking raisins, measuring flour, grinding oats and actually using my kitchenaid food processor-(an appliance I’ve owned for nearly three years and only recently have begun using to any great degree). Mixing dough left my t-shirt spotted with flour and dough bits (*NOTE TO SELF-Start every baking process by actually wearing my apron!).
Because I want the loaves to look lovely, which is, in fact, in large contrast to the rustic nature of traditional soda bread, I devised a toping for the loaves. After they rested for a half an hour, while I washed the appliance pieces, bowls and measuring cups (** Second NOTE TO SELF-Learn to use the dishwasher), I brushed both loaves with an egg-wash of a whole egg and cream, sprinkled whole rolled oaks on the top and brushed them again.
As I sit here, smelling them baking in the oven, I’m hoping they come out warm and wonderful and beautiful (and delicious) but I need to wait a bit before I’ll know.
One of the loaves (if they make muster) will go to Tammy, my new-old, dear friend, whom I’m meeting for lunch tomorrow.
The other, for my dear and magnificent husband.
If it brings him the slightest memory of his salient Irish Cliffs and warm bites of Irish tradition, then I will count my task for the day, complete.

Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
And live a life worth loving.

-Kim

Creating Marshmallows

Making Marshmallows
· Part of the “Adventures in using the Perfect Brownie Baking Pan” series

This recipe is from Ina Garten: Barefoot Countessa, Foodnetwork.

In your stand mixer:
½ cup cool water
3 envelopes unflavored gelatin
Pour gelatin into water (in your mixing bowl) and allow to “bloom”. (Soften)

Sugar Syrup:
In a straight-sided saucepan:
½ cup water
1 ½ cup granulated sugar
1 cup light Karo syrup (corn syrup)
And your candy thermometer.

You will also need:
1 tsp vanilla (or other flavoring you desire)
½ tsp kosher salt
Powdered sugar

While gelatin is softening, put ingredients for sugar syrup in saucepan, with your candy thermometer. Cook on high until candy thermometer reads 240 degrees. Do not whisk, or stir this mixture very much.
When syrup has reached 240 degrees, take off heat and pour into your mixing bowl with your gelatin. Be careful. This liquid is like molten lava. Add the Vanilla extract and salt. With your whisk attachment on your stand mixer, start mixture first on low and then pressing it up until you reach the highest setting.
The original recipe state to mix for 15 minutes. Many reviews say that the marshmallow mixture is done at 10 minutes. I mixed mine for 12 minutes.
Prepare a 13 X 9 pan (or something similar) by spraying with Pam and dusting with powdered sugar.
When the mixture is done, transfer and/or wrestle the marshmallow from the mixing bowl into the pan to set.
After the marshmallows have set, dump onto a parchment paper or wax paper, cut the marshmallows and dust all sides with powdered sugar.

One note, there were some reviewers who said NOT to toast these marshmallows (like for s’mores) because they just melt. No one that I’ve given them to, have had the marshmallows for long enough for me to know whether or not this is true.
They are summarily gobbled up as though they are the last marshmallows civilization will ever see.

This Christmas season I was determined to try this recipe. My first batch turned out abysmal, I would mention. Don't use old Karo syrup, and make sure your sugar syrup does get up to 240 degrees. I would also use a straight sided sauce pan to make the syrup.
I have a (rather new) kitchenaid stand mixer, and I didn't have problems with the motor groaning. I mixed the mixture for 12 minutes, judging by the rubber-band-like strands of merang-ish mixture, that it was done.
I, completely, forgot the salt and vanilla.
The BEST bit of experimenting that I did, was, that I used my Perfect Brownie Baking pan for the marshmallows to "set" in and for segmenting/cutting the marshmallows. It worked like a charm. I sprayed with baking spray (even though the pan is non-stick) and the separators with baking spray (flour & oil). Also dusted the pan (but not the separators) with confectioner's sugar.
I live in Florida and it had been raining. Honestly, the humidity was NOT an issue for this process. After pressing the marshmallow into the pan (yes, I used all the mixture for the one brownie pan) with damp hands (that helps immensely). After that, I pressed the separator into the pan/marshmallow.
One hour later, the marshmallows were set, and pressed out of the segmentor with a spatula with no problems. I rolled them in powdered sugar. 18 Jumbo, creamy Marshmallows, was the result.
I had planned to create small gifts with an envelope of hot cocoa and one of these marshmallows (maybe in a mug) for my husband's office mates for the holidays. Husband (bless his heart) jumped the gun and took some to work as they were.
People went WILD over them, as did some of my friends.
I will make these again and again!

Until next time:
Eat something wonderful
and live a life worth loving!

-Kim