Toffee Without the Crisp

My favorite candy bar in the world is a Toffee Crisp. Lovingly manufactured in picturesque West Yorkshire by the venerable Nestle company, they may be found in neat rows in the exotic international food aisle at my local supermarket. Snug in their bright orange wrappers with bold yellow lettering, they are the unmistakable heralds of joy and toothsome satisfaction. Their construction is simple enough: crispy rice bits embedded in chewy toffee, the whole enrobed in milk chocolate. Soft but not sticky, crunchy and creamy, sweet but not overly so, they are the perfect balance of texture and flavor, the slightly salty caramel offset by the sweet chocolate. They are ambrosial.

And, needless to say, laden with gluten. I haven't had one in over five weeks.

Luckily, caramels (which is only what the Brits call toffee) are one of those things the home cook can knock off with relative ease. Boil up some sugar until it turns brown, add some dairy, maybe cut up the result, dip the pieces in chocolate and you're done. But, as with life itself, there are abundant hidden pitfalls and traps. Cold flow, for example. The first several times I made caramels (this was years ago), I had to keep them in the refrigerator so they wouldn't lose their shape. They were delicious and creamy but refused to maintain their cubic appearance, insistently devolving into wobbly pancakes at room temperature. Coating them in chocolate encouraged them to stay three-dimensional, but only to a point. I fretted about this for some time before discovering the Maillard reaction, the key to deliciousness in many browned foods including chocolate, amber ale, seared meats, and bread crusts (not that I've been eating many of those lately). And caramels.

For a perfect caramel, the amino acids in the milk proteins must be coaxed, through the application of heat and time, to combine with lactose and other sugars to brown, toast, and enter toffee heaven. The more time that can be devoted to this project, the more enigmatic the roasted flavor will be. This complex nonenzymatic browning is the Maillard reaction. A beneficial side effect of the procedure, which requires a high proportion of milk solids, is that the resulting confections will hold their shape at virtually any temperature. 

It took some effort to find a caramel recipe par excellence, but I hit pay dirt with the purchase of Chocolates and Confections, published by the Culinary Institute of America. This praiseworthy (if fiendishly expensive) volume is a must for all candy-makers, although several of the recipes are beyond my humble skills and many of the ingredients unavailable without extensive web research.

The soft caramel recipe would seem to be simplicity itself, but I admit to many disasters before devising a foolproof method that works every time in my domestic setting. Although the ingredients are straightforward, I have found that fabrication requires precision and careful timing. Make sure your mis en place is completely prepared before you even contemplate heating anything up.

You will require some specialist equipment: a candy thermometer; a spaghetti pot (do not even think of using one that holds less than ten quarts); a large heavy-gauge saucepan (3 quarts is ample); and of course, kitchen scales. All the ingredients (even the dairy) are measured by weight - those are not liquid ounces in the ingredients list!

You will also need time. When last I made these (yesterday, as it happened, my Toffee Crisp withdrawal symptoms having become unbearable) I stood at the stove stirring, by my watch, for just over forty minutes.  A good toffee cannot be rushed.

Proper caramels: note their shape-holding
powers, even at room temperature

Here, then, is how to make the most delicious caramels ever. Dare I say it? They are better than a Toffee Crisp.

The World's Best Chewy Caramels

• 12 oz. sugar
• 24 oz. (by weight) whole milk
• 1 vanilla bean
• 5 oz. (by weight) heavy cream
• 10 oz. (by weight) corn syrup
• 1 oz. butter
• one-half teaspoon salt
• optional flavoring of your choice

One 8 inch x 8 inch cake pan, buttered and lined with silicon or parchment paper, also buttered. Put the cake pan on a cooling rack: its bottom is going to get very hot! Lay out the corn syrup, butter, salt, and flavoring separately somewhere near the stove. Also have your saucepan standing by.

Start out with your spaghetti pot. Mix together the sugar, milk and heavy cream and dump them in. Scrape the goodness out of the vanilla bean and add it and the pod to the pot as well. Turn on the heat to medium and keep stirring with your longest wooden spoon until the mixture comes to the boil. Every so often you will want to scrape down the sides of the pot with a spatula to keep the milk from burning at the edges.

When you have reached boilage, add the corn syrup. Continue to heat, stirring constantly. I have to alternate between medium and high heat to keep things going - this is actually the trickiest part. You want it to boil, but not too furiously. A nice even bubbling is the goal. When you make these the first time, you will want to pop in your candy thermometer at this point - on subsequent occasions, you will not need to do this until the very end.

The mixture goes through several fascinating transmogrifications during cooking. It will take ages to get up to about 210 deg F, at which point the brew will suddenly bubble up and quadruple in size - which is why you need the spaghetti pot. If it looks like it's going to boil over, turn down the heat briefly - not too long, or you will be unable to sustain the high temperature. Keep monitoring, and you'll get the hang of it: I keep one hand on the gas dial at this stage, alternating between medium and high heat. Don't let these maneuvers distract you from your stirring, which must be ongoing the entire time! Suddenly, at around 220 deg F, the moisture will evaporate, the solids will start browning, and the mixture will retreat to the bottom of the pan, making it difficult to use your candy thermometer or keep the caramel from scorching.

At this point, decant the whole lot into your waiting saucepan, taking care not to burn yourself with the sticky magma. It will cool a bit during the transfer, but that's not a problem. Return to the heat ASAP, restore the candy thermometer to its post, and keep stirring furiously.

As soon as the mixture reaches 230 deg F, add the butter. At this point, things start happening very fast. Scorching becomes a real danger as the Maillard reaction gets into full swing and the temperature begins to shoot up. Keep stirring and scraping with all your might. If you hear sizzling or see brown streaks, lower the heat for a few seconds, and stir like mad. You will probably  need to raise the heat again to get to your final desired temperature of 240 deg F.

When your thermometer reads 240 deg F, move as though your life depended on it. Stir in the salt and remove the vanilla bean. If you want to add a flavoring, such as orange or coffee, now's the time to do it (no more than a tablespoon or so). Pour the mixture into your prepared tin ASAP.

Wait until completely cool before inverting onto a cutting board and peeling off the paper. You may then cut and adorn the caramels to your heart's content. I like one-inch squares, left plain or drizzled with chocolate, maybe sprinkled with a bit of fleur de sel. They are sublime.