Cocktail Recipes, Spirits, and Local Bars

Generation F: Dandy Candy Makers

Generation F: Dandy Candy Makers

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By Jason Sheehan

Eating healthy should still be delicious.

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Most candy these days is either mass-produced or fussily overproduced (the bacon-and-rosemary-infused $12 candy bar approach). Could a more straightforward take on old-fashioned, handcrafted candies, nougats, and chocolates pay off?

Philadelphians Eric and Ryan Berley decided to see. First, the brothers opened a time-warp ice-cream parlor and soda fountain called Franklin Fountain in the heart of Philly's Old City in 2004. Then, they turned their antiquarian focus on the nearby 150-year-old Shane Candy Factory, a Philly institution. "We just felt like we were sitting next door to a historical and architectural gold mine," Eric says.

They bought the plant in 2010, spent 18 months on renovations and antique candy equipment repairs, then reopened Shane Confectionery in December of 2011 with no intention of taking shortcuts: no fillers, artificial extracts, or weird flavor combos. The result is a charming mix of nostalgic, hip, and authentic.

Q&AHow does one train in the art of making candy?ERIC: There aren't many classes out there for this kind of thing. We studied turn-of-the-century candy-making books. And really, it's about knowing the nuances of the equipment and experimenting to make better candy.

What do you offer that can't be found in a $2 bag of Sour Patch Kids?ERIC: Candy is often a gift—something special. And I wouldn't give cheap candy to anyone. So the candy shop becomes a place for indulgence and for splurging on others. Plus, our candy is uniquely Philadelphian—the recipe for our buttercreams has been made here since 1916. We're trying to give people a memory of Philadelphia.

What's with the facial hair?ERIC: Have you seen the movie Cast Away? For the first 18 months, during the building phase, I was growing this huge Cast Away beard that I was going to shave off when we opened. But when the time came, I decided to keep the mustache because a mustache is kind of a cultural thing, isn't it? It was looked on as a sign of integrity and confidence. It's become part of our store's identity.


★★★ ½ The Dog Who Loved an Elephant Tara never seemed unterested in bonding with any of the other elephants. she might lose interest in life if she didn't develop a bond with one of the other members of the herd. Tara, a retired circus elephant, was purchased by her rider, who then made a sanctuary&hellip Continue reading ANIMAL PALS: Strange But True – Robert F. Burgess

★★ ½ I can forgive a lot of things, but outright stupidity is not one of them. I have loved you every moment of every day, and I will love you until I cease to be. Bird, man, or king, I love you, and I will always love you. Lark is born into a world&hellip Continue reading The Bird and the Sword – Amy Harmon

The Claires – C.L. Gaber


Lavery said: ‘She was having her final piece of work up the Curragh. She was going beautifully and Robbie just heard a bang. She shattered her hind leg.’

Meanwhile, Coral have eased the price of Aidan O’Brien’s Magna Grecia for the St James’s Palace Stakes on the opening day of the royal meeting amid reports he is a doubtful starter.

Magna Grecia won the 2,000 Guineas but suffered a hamstring injury when fifth to Charlie Hills-trained Phoenix Of Spain in the Irish 2,000 Guineas.

With his stable jockey William Buick missing the royal meeting as he continues to recover from a head injury, Godolphin trainer Charlie Appleby will use Aussie Kerrin McEvoy as well as James Doyle.

These have gained pop icon status with the younger generation, and I prefer the watermelon variety. I get to live vicariously through my children’s preferences.

Can you say, “Fire”? These are hard to keep in your mouth. I usually have to take it out and cool my mouth with water temporarily.

Go for gold with Kirstie's skirt by Mary Katrantzou

Mary Katrantzou 'Bowles' pleated jacquard midi skirt at Net -A-Porter

Kirstie Allsopp looks absolutely lovely in these images for You Magazine.

Here she wears a gorgeous midi skirt by Mary Katrantzou, teamed with a royal blue blouse and strappy heels. Inspired by the designer’s Greek heritage, the A-line skirt is made from lustrous navy jacquard that is oven with saffron medallion, cherub and nymph motifs in rich gold. B-e-a-utiful!

Click (right) to purchase it now from Net-A-Porter. Although this skirt is a costly £1,270, you’re guaranteed to get a lot of wear out of it. Team with a blouse and strappy sandals on smart occasions, a la Kirstie, or wear with a simple tee and mules for a more casual get-up. Either way, you’ll be turning heads in this skirt!

However, if this does exceed your price limit, take a look at similar styles in the carousel below. With picks from the likes of M&S and Whistles, there’s something to suit every budget!

M&S jacquard print A-line midi skirt

REDValentino floral jacquard mini skirt at MATCHESFASHION.COM

Girls On Film gold skirt at Little Mistress

Whistles 'Kay' stripe midi skirt (now reduced to £60

Miss Allsopp said she lived in a ‘blended’ family, with two step-sons from partner Ben Andersen, and two sons of their own, which made meals complicated.

‘I thought, “Oh, God, they’ll tell their mum I’m starving them or something awful”,’ she said. ‘I was so anxious about them eating that I got it wrong, and when my children were learning to eat they saw my step-children being fussy, so everyone got very fussy.’

Things came to a head when her step-children refused to eat a meal she had prepared. After they pushed away their spaghetti bolognese, Miss Allsopp screamed at them before fleeing the room in tears. She says things ‘have got massively better since then’.

She is still forced to make a different breakfast for each boy every morning, but admits it’s ‘a rod I’ve made for my own back’.

With all the drama, she says she was forced to focus on cooking far more than before she met Ben.

The result is Kirstie’s Real Kitchen, recipes from which feature in a 24-page You magazine pullout today.

One of Kirstie Allsopp’s earliest memories is standing by the stove as her father taught her to scramble eggs. Like his daughter, the presenter of TV’s Location, Location, Location , Lord Hindlip has the capacity to surprise. ‘He is profoundly conventional – Eton, army, Christie’s – but he arranges flowers, he hangs pictures, he cooks,’ she says. ‘He is a very keen cook, though experimental. His pig’s foot spaghetti is legendary in our house as being the most disgusting thing any of us has ever tasted.’ Kirstie’s mother Fiona – an interior designer who died three years ago – was the opposite: a reluctant, fussy eater always bored by food. She once came back from lunch with a friend, saying, ‘How is it possible to spend so long talking about gravy?’

So, when Kirstie, 46, was asked to write a cookbook, she hesitated. She had just read Made in India , Meera Sodha’s inspiring story about how her mother’s cooking kept family traditions alive after they were driven out of Idi Amin’s Uganda, which had made her cry. ‘I didn’t have anything like that food heritage to offer,’ she says. ‘But I realised I did have a family and a real passion for food that I could pass on to women who, like many of my friends, have busy lives and seem to have given up cooking as some sort of feminist badge of honour.’

So Kirstie’s Real Kitchen was born and it is a compelling read, a journey around Kirstie’s off-screen life with its glamour (a family trip to Africa courtesy of Madonna, who rented Kirstie’s parents’ home in London) and frustrations (cooking different breakfasts for each of her children – ‘a rod I’ve made for my own back’). It has an amusing cast of characters, from Eloise, an old friend who once stumbled across an S&M photo shoot while walking her dog (Kirstie includes her grilled mackerel salad), to her partner Ben Andersen’s aunt, who lives in Tuscany with 12 show dachshunds and makes a mean spaghetti carbonara.

The book also reflects Kirstie’s recent experience of gaining and losing two stone and transforming her cooking and eating habits. Years of bacon sandwiches and pub lunches during filming caught up with her as she reached her 40s and – always forthright, as evidenced by her many spats on Twitter – she was as tough on herself as she sometimes is on others when she woke up to what had happened, telling herself it was ‘foolish, selfish and dangerous’. She is never destined to be thin – and does not want to be (‘There are too many people in my life who are neurotic about being thin’), but she is back to a flattering, gently curvy size that suits her.

Kirstie has presented Location, Location, Location with Phil Spencer for 18 years, finding houses for other people. Her own house is a large but nondescript 1950s box set among the elegant, stuccoed mansions of Kensington. She is very matter-of-fact about why she and Ben, a property developer, bought it and why they have stayed: money. It was the best they could afford after their first son was born, in a lovely but eye-wateringly expensive area.

From the outside, you would never guess how beautiful it is within. She gives me a guided tour, through the huge kitchen with worktops salvaged by Ben from a school science lab, upstairs to her lavishly wallpapered and furnished bedroom, and finally into the drawing room, which has two oversized squashy sofas and a giant baronial stone fireplace.

Kirstie is in one of her trademark floral shirtdresses and her glossy hair shines like a mirror. Some find her too blunt (she recently quit Twitter after a row over whether people should have washing machines in the kitchen in which she hit out at those who said she was a snob for being anti-, calling them f***wits), but I like her honesty. In the baking section of her book, for instance (which includes a delicious-looking chocolate cake), she admits she rarely touches the cakes she bakes as she is so often watching her weight. Simple things like roasted vegetables she calls ‘non-recipes’.

A while back she ruffled a lot of feathers by saying that if she had a daughter she would tell her to ditch university, find a nice man and have a baby by 27, an opinion she is, if anything, even more passionate about now. ‘Short of grief and war and fire, the greatest unhappiness I’ve seen is people’s struggles to have children, and it’s happened to a lot of my friends,’ she says. ‘My generation is the one that got the message completely wrong and thought IVF was going to sort out any problems and it doesn’t. Nothing in my life comes close to the joy my children have given me. We ought to be realistic and tell girls not to leave things too late.’


Saving up for The world’s most expensive cushions, by Rifat Ozbek. They are so beautiful, I am obsessed with them.

Scariest thing you’ve done Appear on BBC One’s Question Time – it’s terrifying because we live in an age when saying the wrong thing can bring down your career.

Perfect night out I took the children to Benihana on Chelsea’s King’s Road recently. Japanese food, fire and knives – it was fabulous.

Reading The Romanovs by Simon Sebag Montefiore – it makes you realise that the world is much nicer than it used to be.

Best piece of advice Live in the moment.

Can’t leave home without A little faux-leopard pouch my goddaughter gave me years ago, which contains emergency rations, toothpicks, vitamin D, nice smelling things and a pen.

Favourite film Anything by Richard Curtis, who is a neighbour and friend.

What’s in your make-up bag? By Terry foundation, Max Factor mascara, Mac lip gloss and Nars Orgasm blush.

Most treasured jewellery My silver letter necklace – B for Ben and Bay, O for Oscar and Orion, H for Hal.

Kirstie met Ben 13 years ago when his sons Hal and Orion were aged five and two (they’re now 18 and 15). They have since had two sons together, Bay, 11, and Oscar, nine. Becoming a stepmother wasn’t easy Kirstie says she made ‘lots of mistakes’. The dinner table was a key battleground. Hal and Orion ate chicken goujons, cucumber sticks, hummus and not much else. Kirstie got into the habit of making kids’ food and still offers three sauces when she makes pasta to suit the individual tastes of all the boys.

‘It’s such a mistake and I would do it completely differently now,’ she says. ‘Because my stepchildren were with us initially only a couple of nights a week, a meal missed seemed to be deeply significant. I thought, “Oh, God, they’ll tell their mum I’m starving them or something awful.” I was so anxious about them eating that I got it wrong, and when my children were learning to eat they saw my stepchildren being fussy, so everyone got very fussy.’

It is an experience that will resonate with so many women struggling to blend families. ‘I was too emotional and they were shell-shocked because of the breakdown of their parents’ marriage. I was a new person in their lives and I would be nervously cooking things that were different from what they were used to,’ says Kirstie. A year in, a friend came to stay at their second home in Devon and made spaghetti bolognese, which Hal and Orion refused to touch. Kirstie yelled at them and fled the room in tears. She cried again around five years ago when, for the first time, one of them told her he loved her: ‘Things have got massively better over time.’

Kirstie (far right) with her parents Lord and Lady Hindlip and sisters Sofie and Natasha, 1990

Kirstie is a doting but formidable mother: the boys are not allowed to have phones or laptops in their bedroom. They are, however – unlike a lot of her friends’ children – allowed sweets. ‘I try not to be neurotic. I make sure they eat well – and the forbidden fruit thing is incredibly powerful.’

A recent study showing that children who eat with their family more than three times a week have fewer educational and behavioural problems and are less likely to be obese chimes with her parenting philosophy. ‘It worries me, people not eating together and children off in their rooms on their screens. All the evidence shows we’re in completely new territory,’ she says. ‘It’s very evident in the property world – houses with fewer family spaces and more and more en-suite bathrooms.’

She and the boys still argue about food – Bay won’t touch fruit, Hal hates fish – ‘but I think, hope, they will grow out of it. I have made the point to all of them that I think it’s unattractive in an adult to be a fussy eater. My mother was very particular and going to a restaurant with her was a nightmare. One year we stayed at the Alton Towers Hotel for my sister’s birthday and my mother said, “Really what I’d like is just steamed vegetables, any vegetables you have, but not this, this and this” – a long list – “with half an avocado pear sliced on top.” The waitress looked absolutely gobsmacked.’

Kirstie with her sister Sofie

Kirstie rocks with laughter as she recalls this scene and other ridiculous family episodes but, in truth, her childhood, despite the beautiful houses and titles – she is formally The Hon Kirstie Allsopp, hence the jibes about snobbery – can’t have been easy. She learned to cook very young because, as the eldest of four children (she has a brother and two sisters), she was often responsible for looking after everyone.

Soon after her sister Sofie (who is nine years younger) was born, their mother contracted ME and was never really well again. She was later diagnosed with breast cancer and died aged 66. Ironically, Kirstie believes her mother’s innate aversion to eating was a factor in enabling her to live with the cancer for 25 years.

‘Being my mother’s cancer…that must have been like living in Raqqa,’ she says. ‘You have to be very, very careful when you are talking about cancer because it affects everybody differently, but she recognised that part of her personal journey was to reduce sugars and that was definitely the right decision for her. That’s a difficult message because everyone is so terrified of anorexia – which is a horrible, destructive condition – but all the research on nationalities who eat less or have periods of fasting shows it is much better for you. Obesity is the biggest issue facing the NHS: look at the level of medical intervention you need if you have diabetes.’

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Root beer float cupcakes

It never takes long into the first hot week of the summer for me to get swept up in some sort of dorky nostalgia for a time or place I never knew, in this case, Main Street, U.S.A. with its drugstore soda counters counters, elaborate marble and stainless steel fountains manned by soda jerks serving five cent Cherry Cokes and root beers to bright-eyed youths that always said things like “Sir” and “Ma’am”. Of course, modern times call for modern formats, don’t they? Something you can pack up and bring to a barbecue or picnic? Thus I quickly became consumed with the idea of turning a root beer float into a cupcake what I struggled to work out were the logistics.

I started with a root beer cupcake, which was actually a chocolate root beer cupcake, adapted from the Root Beer Bundt Cake in one my favorite cookbooks that I so, so eagerly anticipate the follow-up to this fall, Baked. I was hoping it would make a dozen cupcakes. It made 22. Urp.

I then spent a ridiculous amount of time pondering the frosting. Root beer foam? It might have been easier if I were Wylie Dufresne. Whipped cream? I liked the idea of it but the problem is that it’s not the most stable frosting. You get an hour, maybe two at room temperature out of it before it starts to wilt and re-liquefy. But the foamy creamy top of root beer floats always reminds me of whipped cream, so it won.

But something was still missing and so I began digging around my fridge until I unearthed a blazing red jar of maraschino cherries. And I know what you’re thinking, “Deb, don’t you know what is IN maraschino cherries? Are you trying to shorten your lifespan?” but rest assured these are like totally organic and local and maybe even free range. Seriously. All of it. Can’t you tell by the color?

I thought they looked much handsomer with cherries on top but still, couldn’t shake the feeling that these cupcakes weren’t yet accurate representations of root beer floats. And so I got out a melon baller (though concluded, minutes later, that the tip of a knife, cutting a small cone out of the top, worked much better)…

And a tiny cookie ice cream scoop (though, of course, a small spoon will also work)…

And then more whipped cream…

And finally, finally I was convinced that my cupcakes were fitting enough to bear the “root beer float” title. The only thing I forgot to do was take them with me to any of the barbecues I went to this weekend they’re all hanging out in my freezer, looking cute and getting stared down by this guy every time I open the door.

Root Beer Float Cupcakes
Cake adapted from Baked: New Frontiers in Baking

A root beer float is a tall glass of root beer with a scoop of vanilla ice cream inside. I tried to turn this into a cupcake a few ways, first with a plain whipped cream frosting (hoping the cream could stand in for ice cream) and then with both whipped cream and a tiny, nested scoop of ice cream. Both are delicious. Neither are particularly portable. The whipped cream is good for two hours at room temperature but the ice cream, only a few minutes. If you’re bringing them somewhere else, I suggest bringing the ice cream and/or whipped cream separately and assembling them on the spot get others involved, I am sure it could be fun. You could also swap out both toppings for a more traditional, stable frosting such as a Quick Buttercream or a Seven Minute Frosting (my vote, because it tastes like marshmallows).

I also want to note that while the root beer flavor is present in the cakes, it’s not the loudest root beer flavor (unsurprising as most root beers today are pretty subtle). One way to make it more pronounced, as suggested in Baked, is to swap out half a cup of root beer for root beer schnapps, which looks like it is available from a few places online.

2 cups root beer (I used Boylan because it was easy to find and made with cane sugar)
1 cup dark unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 cup (1 stick or 4 ounces) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 large eggs

1 1/2 cups heavy or whipping cream
3 tablespoons powdered sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Pint of vanilla ice cream (you’ll have leftover you’re welcome)
Maraschino cherries (optional)

Make the root beer cupcakes: Preheat oven to 350°F. Line 22 cupcake cups with paper liners. In a small saucepan, heat the root beer, cocoa powder and butter over medium heat until the butter is melted. Add the sugars and whisk until dissolved. Remove from heat and let cool.

In a large bowl, whisk flour, baking soda, and salt together. In a small bowl, whisk the eggs until just beaten then whisk them into the cooled cocoa mixture until combined. Fold the liquid and flour mixtures together in the large bowl. The batter will be slightly lumpy this is okay. If you overbeat it, it will get tough.

Fill cupcake liners about 2/3 to 3/4 full (a 1/4 cup scoop or measuring cup will filled mine perfectly) and bake cupcakes, rotating trays back to front and top to bottom halfway through, until a tester inserted into the center of each comes out clean, about 17 minutes. Transfer pan to a wire rack to cool completely.

Assemble cupcakes: Whip heavy or whipping cream with powdered sugar and vanilla until it holds soft peaks. You can do this with an electric mixer, but if you do it by hand, not only will you get a killer arm workout (which you can trade in for a cupcake, very soon), it will be nearly impossible to overbeat the cream. (Which I almost always do with a mixer.)

Use the tip of a knife to cut a small cone of cake out of the top center of each cupcake feel free to snack on these, I won’t tell anyone. Using a spoon or a small cookie scoop, nest a scoop of ice cream in each indent. Surround ice cream with dollops of whipped cream. Top with a cherry, if using. To keep cupcakes in a holding pattern while you assemble the remaining ones, you can put them in the freezer, but try to do so for no more than 5 minutes or the whipped cream will harden.

More excessive detail: The brown paper cupcake liners are from New York Cake and Baking Supply on 22nd Street. They’re also available from many stores online (please do a simple search I would prefer that the comment section is not filled with links to suppliers). I used a medium round piping tip to make the whipped cream dollops (the size escapes me) but a plastic bag with the corner snipped off will do almost the same job. I used a #70 scoop for the ice cream (about 1 tablespoon) but your 1 tablespoon measuring spoon would do about the same.

Cordon Bleugh Chef

The Cordon Bleugh Chef is a "chef" who does know how to cook but seems to be willing to combine foods that should never be used in the same dish or, in the worst cases, even in the same universe. If the resulting dish doesn't cause an urge to purge with just the taste, finding out what was in it surely will. At the very least, many of those eating will comment that it tastes like something the dish has no right to be tasting like given its ingredients.

Some examples of disgusting dishes a Cordon Bleugh Chef might create include things like strawberry and liver pate cakes, lemon curd with ham and sardines, chocolate cod roe, parsnip brownies, fish fingers and custard, and endless other stomach-emptying recipes. Occasionally though, the combination actually turns out to taste pretty good, at least to one person out of the group.

Cordon Bleugh Chef is not about "chefs" who make food that either looks absolutely disgusting or is even harmful to the one unlucky enough to eat it that's Lethal Chef. It also isn't when someone adjusts already-created food to make it more "appealing". That's Bizarre Taste in Food. Though it could make them into an Angry Chef, feeling like everyone else just can't appreciate "original works of art" like he can.

Compare Foreign Queasine: foreign dishes such as haggis, deep-fried tarantulas and casu marzu note "rotten cheese", Sardinian typical soft sheep milk cheese containing live insect larvae, which ferment and melt the cheese from the inside which are fairly popular in their own country but would be thought of as too disgusting to try by many people in other countries. See I Ate WHAT?! for when people don't find out what it contains till it's eaten.

Compare and contrast Overcomplicated Menu Order, which may or may not involve mixing two foods together and/or modifying it to oblivion like this trope, but coming from someone's order.

Also compare and contras One Note Chef, which is basically this trope, with the exception of one dish, or class of dishes.

More Soda Pops and Soft Drinks

7 Up/Lithiated Lemon/Seven Up (1929)

Dad&aposs Root Beer (1937)

Frostie Root Beer (1939)

Mission (assorted flavors, 1929)

Nehi (assorted flavors, 1924)

Dr. Brown&aposs (assorted flavors, 1865)

Orange Crush (assorted flavors, 1906)

Super Coola (assorted flavors, 1949)

Bireley&aposs Fruit Drinks (assorted flavors, 1930)

Knapp&aposs Root Beer Extract (Circa 1890)

Pommac (1919, U.S. sales in 1963-1969)

Boylan&aposs (assorted flavors, 1891)

Filbert&aposs Old Time Root Beer (1926)

Kreemo Special Root Beer (1909)

Triple XXX Root Beer (1895)

Canada Dry Ginger Ale (1904)

Lemon&aposs Superior Sparkling Ginger Ale (1871)

Schweppes Ginger Ale (1870)

Try-me (assorted flavors, 1919)

Marvel/Jumbo/Double Cola (1924)

Schweppes Bitter Lemon (1957)

White Rock Beverages (1871)

The Witness

Jonathan Blow’s long-awaited follow-up to Braid — the massive hit that was one of several to initiate the indie resurgence — couldn’t be a more different game. The Witness features puzzles, and puzzles alone. At first glance, the colorful island littered with random statues and weird oddities seems like a very bizarre environment for a game that consists entirely of line puzzles. But when you start moving from puzzle to puzzle, you’ll begin to appreciate and dissect your surroundings. Simply put, the line puzzles are brilliant.

Each puzzle teaches you a valuable lesson, and when they involve the environment as part of the solution, the grandiose experience only heightens. The game tests your mental stamina and often persuades you to take out a pen and paper as you search for the correct solution. It’s rare for a game to inspire that kind of dedication, but The Witness does, and it will compel you to keep going, and learning, every step of the way.

The Witness is available on PS4, Xbox One, Nvidia Shield, Windows, MacOS, and iOS.

Watch the video: Dandy candies (August 2022).