I strongly believe, after the events of the last week, that candymaking may be an inherited trait, specifically passed down through the paternal line. Byron's dad, B.N., is a fantastic candymaker. It is a skill he has honed over the years and that I have appreciated in the years since I've known Byron. Yum.
But, I had no idea what skills lay lurking in my own husband. I came home from work the other night to find the smell of candy in the air and Byron stirring in the kitchen (two things that make me VERY happy.) He had made peanut brittle, with the help of his father (who stayed on the phone with him during the process saying things like "Candy One to Candy Two, what's your status?"
However, the first batch wasn't entirely successful. (As you are aiming for "brittleness" with any candy in the brittle family)
FYI, the tags above were also made by Byron. He's putting me to shame.
Byron's sweaty, smelly work socks lying right where my precious face and body had been scant minutes before. Byron erupted into a giggling fit, confessing that he had put them there the night before as I was coming to bed, to be funny. However, I came into the room when it was already dark and didn't see the socks. Instead of admitting that the joke was up, he must have giggled himself to sleep (not caring what MY sleep would be like, with those things practically shoved up my nose) just imagining how much funnier it would be in the morning. Indeed, it was funny to one of us.
So maybe the brittle and the socks balance out.