By Stephen Durfee

Dandelion has been making marshmallows since our early days. We top each cup of hot chocolate with one of Lisa’s vanilla marshmallows. At Bloom and our Valencia Street café, we set out a bowl of the fluffy, from-scratch treats for individuals to help themselves. And our toasted-to-order S’more — with its house-made graham cracker, pillowy centerpiece, and melty single-origin chocolate — is a café favorite. All this is to say, while we’re first and foremost a bean-to-bar chocolate factory, marshmallows are a (gooey) part of our DNA. 

I still remember the first time I ever made marshmallows. I was astonished that a regular person could make them at home! I found a recipe in The Joy of Cooking — you boil up sugar syrup, stir in gelatin, and whip it in a stand mixer. It’s incredible, and so easy! Who knew?

A brief history of the marshmallow

The history of marshmallows dates back thousands of years. As early as 2000 B.C., Ancient Egyptians boiled the root of the mallow plant with honey as a way to treat sore throats and coughs, and to heal wounds. Mallow is a bit like okra in that when you boil it, it develops a sort of a slimy texture, which thickens as it cools. By the mid 1800s, French confectioners were whipping dried mallow roots with sugar, water, and egg whites to create a soft candy called pâte de guimauve. Translation: marshmallow paste. As years went by, candy makers began replacing mallow roots with gelatin. That plus the invention of the starch mogul system led to the mass production of marshmallows. 

The science of sugar confectionery

In order to appreciate and make sense of marshmallows, it’s helpful first to have a general understanding of basic confectionery. Most candies start off with sucrose, a.k.a. granulated sugar. Sugar, in its natural state, exists in the form of a crystal. For any candy-making project, we take sugar and dissolve it in water, changing the structure of the sugar by creating a solution known as a syrup. Cold water will absorb about twice its weight in sugar, but we can further concentrate the syrup by heating it, and evaporating the water away. The further one boils the syrup, the more concentrated and denser it becomes. Soft and chewy candies, like caramels, taffy, and fudge, are cooked to a lower temperature and have a fair amount of water left behind, while harder candies — think lollipops and toffee — have nearly all of the water boiled away. These temperature variations can be measured in degrees (℉ or ℃), but are more commonly referred to by their texture names, examples of which are “soft ball” and “hard crack.” Sugar syrup that has had all the water boiled off will eventually burn; we call this burnt sugar syrup caramel.

Crystalline vs. non-crystalline confections 

A super concentrated sugar syrup is nervous and excitable. Given the least provocation, it will revert to its natural, crystalized state. The key to successful candy making comes in controlling the way in which sugar syrups behave under these conditions. A casual stir of the pot, or a single undissolved grain of sugar could be enough to cause the entire batch to recrystallize into a ruined mess. In fact, most of these potential problems can be avoided by adding an acid “interferent” to the mixture, typically lemon juice or cream of tartar, or by combining different forms of sugar in the initial syrup — that is why most candies contain a healthy glug of corn syrup or glucose. Sugar syrups that have been doctored in this fashion will withstand constant stirring and still maintain their glossy texture. If you combine sugar and water with a pinch of cream of tartar, and then boil out 99 percent of the water, you’re left with a hard candy, like a lollipop. Although a lollipop is physically hard, it is really sugar in a syrup state. It’s non-crystalline. You can see through it.

That said, there are certain forms of candies that are deliberately crystallized to achieve a milky graininess … mint patties, maple sugar candies, pecan pralines and fudge are all examples of crystalline candies. These each begin with concentrated sugar solutions cooked to a specific temperature, but then the boiled syrup is allowed to cool for a bit before being beaten and / or seeded (blending in a small amount of pre-crystalized sugar, usually in the form of fondant), forcing it to crystallize. 

(Nerd Alert — we temper chocolate using the same process: Heat, cool, seed, and stir. Tempering is just another form of deliberate crystallization.) 

Here’s an example: Take a soft caramel mixture, allow it to cool, then beat and seed it with fondant, and you’ll wind up with fudge. Yes, fudge! Most folks think that fudge is a form of chocolate, but in fact fudge has nothing to do with chocolate (unless it’s chocolate flavored). Fudge is crystallized caramel!  

So, are marshmallows crystalline or non-crystalline?

Believe it or not, there are actually two kinds of marshmallows: The first are classic, non-crystalline marshmallows — these are the kind that Lisa makes, and they’re also what you’ll find on grocery store shelves. Sugar and glucose are boiled to soft-ball stage, then whipped with egg whites and set with gelatin. These are the marshmallows we know and love. And yet, flying below the confectionery radar, we find two examples of crystalline marshmallows … the curiously named, banana-flavored Circus Peanuts, and those tiny, “magically delicious” treats in Lucky Charms. 

The importance of whipping air

We whip air into things to make them lighter. Whether you’re whipping a meringue to top a pie, eggs for a chocolate soufflé, or cream to fold into a chocolate mousse, the reason we whip air into food is to change its texture. It’s more palatable, more delicate. When you make frothy milk to put on a latte, you’re lightening it up. And that lightness is nice. When we beat ice cream, the texture variation results in something more pleasant to eat. 

People enjoy foods like croissants, puff pastry, macarons, and cream puffs because they’re delicate and light. They’re all aerated one way or another. Sourdough bread with big crusty holes? A whole lot of air.

Marshmallows are a great example of aeration in confections — they owe their delicate texture to the amount of air we beat into them. They’re typically 60 to 70 percent air! But they’re not the only example of aerated candy. 

You can’t bite through a lollipop, but when you aerate that mixture, and you add peanuts, you get peanut brittle. It’s hard-crack sugar syrup, the same thing as a lollipop, but it’s been aerated … and you can bite right into it. That’s because of the air that’s been beaten into it. Nobody chews a lollipop! 

Pulled taffy is aerated. Nougat too. And honeycomb, and divinity, and let’s not forget bubblegum — although it relies on a certain collaborative effort between candy maker and consumer, I can’t think of a food that holds more air! 

If you want to try your hand at making marshmallows, here’s Lisa’s recipe. And if you’d rather leave the baking to us, stop in for one of our S’mores.