This is my last week working in the preschool. The decision to leave was not a hasty one, and was not brought on by upset or dissatisfaction, but was just the next step in my plan. I know sometimes it is necessary to make big sacrifices in the name of growth, but still, this one really stings. I knew all along this day was coming, yet I allowed myself to nestle in all the same, and handing over my keys feels like saying goodbye to another home. This last week before Christmas break will be a blur of cookies and tinsel, but hopefully won’t be gone before I can appreciate it.
Over the last two and a half years, I have made great friends in the school. The teachers and staff have been wonderful mentors as well as a captive audience for my breakroom comedy. Some of them are readers here and chat with me about my column, and I’m so grateful for their kind words of praise and help with brainstorming for my next recipe. I know a lot of the kids by name, and their siblings and parents, too. Thanks to my job, I have made enough friends to see familiar faces everywhere I go and truly feel like I have a community around me, even if it is far from where I live.
I spent all weekend making sweets to leave in the breakroom for my friends. They have enjoyed many of my dishes over the years — some article dishes, some birthday cakes, and some just for fun. Christmastime in an elementary school is exceptionally magical, so I wanted to bring a whimsical, literary-inspired Christmas sweet to school. Turkish delight is a very old confection made of boiled sugar and starch that requires more than an hour of constant stirring and heat. Unfortunately, halfway through this process my power went out and didn’t return for hours. I attempted to restart the cooking process, but the damage was done, and my Turkish delight turned out lumpy and unpleasant and, very unfortunately, unfit to share. Hopefully my marshmallows, butter cookies, coconut macaroons and gingerbread cookies will ease their disappointment. Goodbye, Soldotna Elementary. I may never return, but I will never forget you.
Ingredients:
4 cups sugar
1 ¼ cups cornstarch
1 teaspoon cream of tartar
1 tablespoon orange extract
1 teaspoon orange zest
Natural food coloring (optional)
1 cup powdered sugar
¼ cup cornstarch
Directions:
In a heavy bottomed saucepan combine the sugar and about 1 ½ cups water. Stir until the sugar dissolves.
Attach a candy thermometer and turn the heat on to medium high. Cook the sugar until it reaches 240 degrees.
While the sugar syrup is heating up, combine the cornstarch, cream of tartar, and 3 cups of water in a large heavy bottomed saucepan.
Heat the cornstarch mixture over medium heat, whisking constantly to avoid lumps, until it thickens to a thick, sticky paste.
When the sugar reaches 240 degrees, turn off the heat and very slowly pour the syrup into the hot cornstarch mixture, whisking continuously.
When all the starch has been incorporated, turn the heat to low and cook for 1 hour, stirring constantly. The candy will eventually turn a golden color and will pull away from the sides of the pan.
When the candy is done cooking, stir in the orange extract, zest, and food coloring.
Pour the mixture into a dish lined with greased parchment paper. An 8-by-8-inch square pan works well.
Allow the mixture to cool at room temperature overnight, covered with a clean towel. Do not refrigerate.
Sift the powdered sugar and cornstarch together and put into a bowl.
Generously dust a cutting board with some of the powdered sugar and turn the candy out onto it, being sure to coat all sides in powder.
Use a sharp knife to cut the candy into cubes before tossing in the powdered sugar to coat.
Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to a month.
Tressa Dale is a writer, pre-k educator, culinary and pastry school graduate, and a U.S. Navy veteran. She lives in Kenai with her husband, five-year-old son, and beloved black cat. Find her on Instagram @tressa.m.dale
