Chapter 7
CHAPTER
SEVEN
STACY
"All right, I think it's a caramel now," I tell the boys as I stir the goop in my pan. "Are you ready?"
"Ready, Mama," Tash says, his eyes bright.
"Ready," Pacy agrees, and gives his bowl brimming with snow another pat.
"Ready to eat," my mate Pashov adds, clutching his own bowl. He licks his lips and then gives me a wicked grin. "You know how I love to eat your food."
"This is more of a candy," I remind him, trying not to blush. Pashov manages to make everything sound like an innuendo, and you would think after all this time I'd be used to it. Nope. Still giggly as a schoolgirl the moment my mate gives me a heated look. "Okay, Tash, you're the littlest, so you get the pan first. Be careful. Got your glove on?"
My younger son nods and when I move over with the hot pan, he stirs the hot caramel with his spoon, both of his hands gloved so he doesn't accidentally touch the pan or get caramel on his fingers. It's not exactly caramel like on Earth, but when hraku is ground into a powder with mortar and pestle and then cooked over the fire with a bit of liquid, it ends up making a close (if slightly gritty) approximation to the sugary treat from back home. I remember reading about this particular candy-making trick in a Laura Ingalls book when I was a girl, and it immediately came to mind once Josie and Claire mentioned Halloween.
Tash scoops up some of the liquid caramel and then dribbles it onto his snow. The caramel hardens quickly, becoming a fat disc of candy even as the snow melts underneath it.
Pacy leans over his brother's bowl, critiquing. "Don't put it all in the same spot. You're supposed to move it around and make strings out of it."
With a snort, Pashov tugs on one of Pacy's short little horns. "Let your brother make his treat as he likes. There is no wrong way to do this."
"Yes there is?—"
"You'll get your turn, Pacy," I chide my older son. "Be patient. And we're just experimenting right now. We'll have to make more closer to the holiday for everyone else."
"I don't want to make a bunch of treats and then give them all away," my older son grouches. "I want them to be for us."
"Half the fun is giving them away, I promise. You'll see. And I'll make so many goodies that you'll be sick of them by the time the holiday gets here." I watch as Tash carefully dribbles another line in the snow and then hands the spoon back to me. "Did anyone ever say what we're calling this holiday anyhow?"
"Hollow dream," Pashov says, and winks up at me. "Or Hollow Weenie."
Both of the boys burst into giggles. "That's not what it's going to be called, Dad!" Pacy nudges his father, grinning. "No one's going to call a holiday anything about weenies!"
"No? Must have heard it wrong." He pretends to rub his ear, all the while grinning at me.
I manage to avoid laughing out loud but just barely. Pashov might be older and a father twice over, but he's still an absolute goofball. Moving closer to Pacy, I let him take his spoon and get a bit of the boiling-hot caramel and watch as he makes it in a perfect swirl on his snow. "That looks really nice, sweetie. Good job."
Pacy shoots a triumphant look at Tash, who is utterly clueless to his brother's competitive side. My smaller son's gaze is focused entirely on his bowl, watching his caramel treats as they cool and harden. "When do we get to eat, Mama?"
"Soon enough. Let it cool a bit longer or else you'll burn your mouth. Here, Pashov, your turn."
My mate takes the spoon with glee. "Finally!" He throws down enough melted hraku for two large blobs, and then dribbles a third tiny one in the corner.
"Dad! You're taking too much!" Pacy admonishes. "Save some for us!"
"I am, I am." He hands the spoon back to Pacy, who gives his father an indignant look before taking another turn.
We go around the small group repeatedly, making candy until all the snow has melted and the caramel is now making hard sticky bits on the edges of my metal pan. I set it down on one of the stones by the firepit to cool and watch as Pashov carefully nudges his two biggest pieces of candy into the boys' bowls, because of course he'd made them for his sons. I give him a small smile as he pops the last piece into his mouth.
"What do we think?" I ask, watching as my boys shove their faces full of the sweet treat. Both Pacy and Tash give me bright-eyed looks of happiness. They've had hraku plenty of times before for special occasions, but probably never so much so heavily concentrated.
Pashov shoves a finger in his mouth. "I think my fangs are melted together."
I chuckle. "Maybe when we make candy, we'll add sprinkles of seeds and chop up some of the dried fruit to break it up a bit. We'll need all the hraku and seeds you can find, though, so we have plenty for us, too." I wouldn't make treats without saving a little something for my boys anyhow. The happiness on their faces makes me glow inside more than any nibble of caramel.
Well...I'll still take a nibble. I point at a flake in Tash's bowl. "Can Mama try a bit?"
The treats don't last, of course. I made a small batch to test it out, and the boys (and Pashov) tear through all of it quickly. When the candy is gone, Tash moves to me and squeezes me in a hug. "Thank you, Mama."
"Thanks, Mom," Pacy adds, and comes and gives me a quick neck-hug. Then he races for the door. "Wait until Joden hears what we got to eat!"