Making Peanut Brittle Was a Battle, and I Lost...

We needed to take food to something and my 13 year old and I were scouring the cabinets for ideas on what to make. Our cabinets were so bare and I still hadn't gone to the store from the last post....he spotted peanuts and suggested brittle. I don't think I've ever made brittle and I knew candy can be a finicky thing but it was just a few ingredients and we happened to have them so the brittle story begins...
The girls helped in the beginning, gathering the few ingredients and measuring everything. When we had to constantly watch and stir the pot with the water, corn syrup, and sugar, they ditched us. We don't own a candy thermometer so Gabe and I watched that pot and marveled at the change it made as it heated up. We talked, "I wonder who discovered that these ingredients put together and heated just right make a carmel-y-like thing..." That started the two of us on a fun tangent... It took longer then I thought to get it to the right point. The recipe told us that if we didn't have a thermometer, we would know it was at the right temp if a small amount dropped in cold water, balled up and flattened when taken out of the water. We probably tested that thing eight times. Finally, we added the peanuts and butter, then had to get it to a point where a small amount dropped in water would become stringy and brittle. Then it said, "Immediately, take it off the heat when it reaches this point, add yada yada, spread quickly...."  I didn't take my eyes off that pot. I was getting tense. Constantly stirring and smelling it to make sure it didn't smell like burnt sugar. (I have a super-sniffer and can usually cook better by smelling than tasting, but enough about my weirdness...) Gabe was sitting on the counter, watching my craziness and anxiously watching that pot. I had originally said he could make whatever by himself, but whose kidding, at this point, I had taken over. I mean, my nose was practically in the pot so what could he do?

Anyway, after we stressed over that concoction for just the right amount of time, everything came together like Betty Crocker said it would, we poured it in the pan. I gave Gabe the spatula to spread it "quickly" but then "quickly" grabbed it back when he wasn't "quick" enough. I mean, Betty said spread that thing quickly or it would be ruined and he's moving like a turtle! Come on, boy! So we had done it! We made brittle! I thought, "wow...come on, what can we not do?!" But then I had to let it set...
A few hours passed and we needed to get to our thing so Gabe and I decided to break it up into brittle and get going. We tried to gently lift it from the sides. We tried to pry it from the sides. We'd get a little lifted up and need to wedge the knife under and a piece would fly up. We were flinging shards of sharp brittle all over the kitchen. I even hit the ceiling a few times. If it weren't for my glasses, I would be wearing an eye patch. Gabe even stabbed me at one point. (He didn't break skin, just felt horrible, and then we decided only one of us at the time should be chipping away at that beast.) It really had become a beast. We were late and trying to scarf down some dinner and chip away at the beast of a brittle. There were shards all over the place. The two girls were running around in the kitchen like mad crazy women trying to catch the flying pieces and eat them. We chipped off what we could and left.
When I returned home, there was the brittle. Still stuck. And my kitchen floor had little small flecks of harden brittle peppered all over. I had to take a scraper to the floor and pick at each one...if you come over, your socks will probably stick to the floor, because, frankly, I gave up.  I even spotted a tiny remnant on the ceiling. I would've probably felt defeated except for one fact. It was good. Everybody enjoyed it and it was good.

But I still think I lost because I have to wash the pan...
~Jenny