It turns out that I can make marshmallows.
It also transpires that I can make an unbelievable mess in the kitchen and emerge covered in a mixture of cornflour and icing sugar.
This is not as tasty as it sounds.
Also, I have Lady Macbeth hands. Out, damn’d spot!
The raspberry marshmallows are actually pretty good. The violet ones, alas, taste far too much like gelatine – my violet essence is lovely, but too subtle for confectionery. Andrew thinks they taste alright, but he is mistaken… Of course, I now need to make them *again* in multiple variations, until I can get them right. I think next I need to try David Lebovitz’s recipe (which was what brought this whole thing on in the first place), after which I will turn my energy to discovering the perfect vegetarian marshmallow. It shouldn’t be impossible with agar, I think.
I know how I’ll be spending my weekend…