The Bark-Off

and a meet-up with the Spangler Candy Company

From Karyl’s Cook & Tell Newsletter (December 2006)

We have never been competitive, The Kid and I. Yes, that Kid, the only one I am the mother of, the one who remains The Kid after repeated vows made to myself and to my readers to ditch the diminutive. I actually announced in these pages that she was simply too old, too attractive, too tall—too sixteen, as I remember—to be tagged “The Kid” any longer. That was twenty-five years ago. Married, pursuing a business career, and taller and more attractive than ever, she is still The Kid.

Anyway, Amie (see? I’m trying) called to say she’d be coming east for a few days on a reconnaissance trip to touch bases with clients and twist the arms of a few prospects, in Portland. She’d stay here at the old homestead and commute to the city.

There would be a little time for extracurricular activities, so she thought she might make some Christmas sweets while she was here. This year, instead of cookies she wanted to make some simple candies to give away. “Bark,” she said. “I’d like to make some peppermint bark.”

Naturally, I was impelled to suggest an alternative possibility. This is not competition, not one-upmanship, certainly not the meddling mother who knows best. This is your mother the foodie having so many visions of sugarplums and every other food form dancing in her head, that the proffering of Plan B is almost inevitable, when somebody brings up the subject of something to eat. “How about doing white chocolate bark with pistachios and dried cherries?” I suggested. “The recipe’s going to be in the December Cook & Tell.”

The Kid wouldn’t budge. I sensed something bigger than mere crushed candy canes was at work here. “I’m doing peppermint,” she said. “It’s traditional. You see it everywhere.”

I had to admit that dried cherry and pistachio bark probably had a long way to go before moving out of the upstart column into the realm of hallowed tradition. “But it’s so good,” I insisted, “and you don’t see it everywhere. I’m going to make another batch.”

“We’ll have a Bark-Off when I get there!” she exclaimed, and the fight was on.

A few days later, The Kid arrived, with her bulging carry-on, her snappy clothes, her hairspray, and her chocolate. The day before, I had made my nonconformist bark so she’d be able to smash her candy canes without being crowded by my pistachios. On the afternoon of the appointed day, we reviewed the recipe she’d clipped from the newspaper. The chocolate—first the dark, then the white—was supposed to be tempered for about an hour in a slow cooker. Bummer! But then, who cares about tempering, I said. Just melt the stuff in a double boiler. I never temper.

I gave her the big old mallet and bam! Crushed candy canes littered the counter. In a few minutes, a tray of double-layered bark was in the refrigerator setting up.

The next day, the last day of Amie’s visit, we met her Auntie Gloria, my sister-in-law, for lunch at the Ebb Tide downtown. Gloria had agreed to serve as judge of the Bark-Off, provided she would be guaranteed a piece or pieces of the action (both flavors). I handed her a bag of samples. Amie eloquently defended her entry, citing complexity (a lot of smashing and two layers of chocolate) and, let’s face it, tradition. I stumped for sophistication and elegance, both clearly evident in my samples. The Kid, the resourceful Kid, got extra points for trivia. Did we know, she asked, that almost all the candy canes sold in the United States are made by the Spangler Company? And that she had met Mr. Spangler and talked with him at some function?

I was beaten already, before Gloria had even taken a bite.

Amie was off for the airport right after lunch, so we hugged and said our goodbyes and good barks. When I got home, I picked up the mail and found two-layered peppermint bark looking back at me from the Williams-Sonoma catalog. Amie was aloft when Judge Gloria called. Renowned for her “people skills,” she was unable to decide between the entries of niece and sister-in-law; they were both so good.

‘Tis true, O bard, O philosopher, whoever said it: Diplomacy is the better part of flavor.

Amie’s Headnotes

Happy Holidays! I’m gifting you with both bark recipes. Like my Auntie Gloria, who remains a steadfast subscriber to Cook & Tell in all its various formats, I think both barks are good. I couldn’t put my finger on my original recipe for Peppermint Bark—it’s been almost twenty years after all—but, as it so often happens when I am rattling around the archives, I stumbled on this one, which my Mom published a few years later. “How about it,” she asked me in her December 2010 issue. “Isn’t this one easier?”

EASIEST-EVER PEPPERMINT BARK

• 11.5-oz. pkg semisweet chocolate chips

• 2 t. vegetable oil

• 11.5 -oz pkg white baking chips

• 1.3 c. crushed mini candy canes

Line an 8x8” baking pan with Release Foil. Combine the semisweet chips and 1 t. of the oil in a medium bowl and zap in the microwave on high for 2 minutes, stirring after 1 minute. Stir until melted and smooth. Use the back of a large spoon to spread the chocolate evenly in the pan. Chill until set, 30-45 min.

Combine the white baking chips and remaining 1 t. oil in the (cleaned) bowl. Microwave on medium high (70%) for 2 min, stirring after 1 minute. Stir until melted and smooth. Stir in the crushed candy. Working quickly, spread the mixture evenly over the chocolate layer. Chill until set, about 15 min. Place in freezer for another 15 min, then break into pieces. Store in airtight container with parchment paper between layers.

WHITE CHOCOLATE BARK

• 2 lb. white chocolate baking bars

• 1 ½ c. dried cherries or cranberries

• 1 ½ c. shelled pistachios

• ¼ t. salt

Melt the chocolate in a double boiler. Combine the fruit, nuts, salt; stir into the chocolate. Spread on a parchment lined cookie sheet or jelly roll pan. Chill at least 30 minutes. Break into pieces.

Amie’s Endnotes

This year, I’m stuffing your stocking with a Holiday Bonus Issue from 1993. It’s chock-full of recipes from sweets to appetizers and even oyster sandwiches. Even if you’re not into cooking this holiday season, my Mom’s illustrations are a gift in themselves.

If you feel like spreading some holiday cheer, you can buy me a hot cocoa and I’ll donate half to the Good Shepherd Food Bank of Maine. Your support keeps Cook & Tell and the community going!