Caramel Fail

Colombia puts Italy to shame when it comes to bureaucracy. In order to rent an apartment in Bogotá for example, we need two guarantors who own property themselves (and are financially on the line if we don't pay our rent), copies of their property deeds, copies of bank statements for the last three months (ours and theirs), letters from our non-existent employers, proof of our income, investments and coins fallen behind the cushions, and promise of a kidney should the landlady ever need it (which we offered instead of the contract-standard first-born — given my age, there may not be a second-born).

It's enough to drive a girl to eat an entire tray of caramel! If only I could make caramel.

Perhaps it was my incredibly frustrated state of mind, perhaps the stove which has only three heat settings, perhaps the pots with their thin bases that can't distribute said heat. Whatever the excuse, the sad reality at the end of that day was that I can't make caramel.

Three times I tried and three times I failed. I used three different recipes from very respected sources and somehow I was defeated by each of them. The first batch were so hard I couldn't cut the caramel slab with a knife, so teeth would have no chance. The second batch turned into a giant crystalised lump. The final batch showed such great potential, but at the last minute I was distracted by the looming need to plan a wedding, and I let the sugar burn. 

But, like the little engine that couldn't bear throwing away so much sugar, cream, butter, glucose syrup and vanilla, I kept trying. I figured if sugar could melt once, it could melt again, so I took Hard As A Rock and put it in a pot of boiling cream. After much stirring and hoping, Hard As A Rock became delicious Salted Butter Caramel Sauce. Then I used half the sauce to fill these chocolates. 

The other half of the sauce is in the fridge, waiting for that rainy day when we have to connect internet, water and electricity. Oh the joys that await!