I watched as gooey spirals of corn syrup trickled down upon a glittering mountain of sugar and water. Grandma’s metal spoon clinked against the glass measuring cup as she corralled the final globs of syrup into the saucepan. The aging spiral stove top came to life with an orange glow as she turned the heating control.

Of all my family’s holiday traditions, my favorite is making rock candy. When my mom was in sixth grade at Fairview Elementary School, she came home with a recipe that transformed my grandparents’ small kitchen into a powdered sugar-coated candy factory each year thereafter. 

While waiting for the mixture to come to a hard boil at 310 degrees with my [vc_video link=”https://youtu.be/ogxSCIfxdgY”]grandma, my cousins and I crammed together in her tiny kitchen discussing which colors and flavors to pair together in each batch of candy. The countertop behind us was already cleared to make room for two cookie pans coated in powdered sugar. Everything else, including empty jars for the candy, huddled to the counters’ sides or teetered haphazardly on the kitchen table.

Grandma lifted her spoon from the pan and let a clear penny-sized drop of the sizzling goo fall into a glass of chilled water. A sharp hiss from the now crystallized syrup told us the time had come for the most exciting part.

“All right, kids,” Grandma said. “In goes the clove.”

We braced ourselves as she emptied the contents of two thumb-size glass bottles, each containing one dram of clove flavoring, into the saucepan. The potent smell of spicy clove oil burned our nostrils and punched our lungs; we all reeled back, choking. This scent was undeniably the worst; lemon and watermelon released significantly less offensive odors. With the clove, however, it became necessary for someone to trade off with the stirrers so they could run from the steamy kitchen and relieve their coughing. 

My mom insisted on the clove this year, as it is one of her favorites and soothes sore throats. We decided to make two rounds of clove first and end on flavors with more pleasant scents. Plus, finishing with batches requiring more vibrant coloring, such as watermelon and apple, would prevent any unwanted mixing from pigmentation left in the pan at the beginning.  

Eventually, once we added the yellow food coloring and stirred the the candy to achieve a homologous effect, we poured the molten creation into our powdered sugar-filled cookie pans. My cousins and I retreated to the kitchen table where we drummed our fingers in anticipation of the next step: cutting the candy into bite-sized pieces. Common sense usually tells one to use patience and let hot objects cool before trying to pick them up. For us, however, eagerness trumped all forms of practicality and we began testing the still-hot candy in its gel form with our bare hands. 

The small burns were always worth it, though. If left too long, the candy would harden and no scissor in Grandma’s kitchen could easily fracture it. With an early start we ensured the candy’s success. By the end of the afternoon we had filled an army of mismatched containers, each a different size and shape, with hundreds of little glass-like candy shards. 

After an afternoon making holiday treats with my family, I always find a sense of calm and fulfillment from visiting and sharing the same work space with them. The experience also emphasizes the importance of seeing everyone’s faces, hearing their voices and maintaining togetherness. I realize how quickly time passes between one candy cycle and the next and know I will continue this tradition with my family until it is my turn to pass it down to subsequent generations.    

Do you have an interesting family recipe? Tell us your story in the comments below.