Homemade Holiday Marshmallows

Last week of 2026. New Year's prep. The annual pho. The annual gathering. The annual reflection. Bobby Tran at fifty-two has watched his second year of retirement complete itself, his fourth grandchild arrive (Ruby), his fifth grandchild be confirmed (Huy, due May 2027), his cookbook be photographed and edited, his mother turn eighty-eight, his daughter's restaurant earn its second Chronicle review (five stars), and his AA group keep meeting every Tuesday at the church in Bellaire. The shape holds. The shape thickens.

New Year's Eve at my house. Sixteen people. Mai. Linh. Richard. Tyler, Jessica (eight months pregnant, still moving), Marcus, Jade. Emma, Daniel, Ava, Ruby. Lily, James. Bill and Helen. Pho at midnight. Mai stayed awake until 12:01 AM this year — she had napped earlier so she could see midnight. When the ball dropped on TV, she was sitting in the recliner watching with a small glass of water. She said, "Happy New Year, Bao." I said, "Happy New Year, Ma." Linh hugged her. Tyler hugged her. The grandchildren were asleep on the couches. The year passed. The year continues.

I called Bill at 12:30 AM after the family had gone home. Bill said, "Bobby, what time?" I said, "Late. Seventeen years and ten months." He said, "And one day." I said, "And counting." He said, "Happy New Year, Bobby." I said, "Happy New Year, Bill. Thank you." He said, "Same to you. Go to sleep." I went to sleep. Smokey was on his bed by my feet. The year ended. The new year arrived. Tomorrow I would make pho leftovers for breakfast. Tomorrow I would sit on the back porch with Vietnamese coffee. Tomorrow would look exactly like today. That's the gift. That's what retirement is. The same day, refined, repeating.

The small Houston Restaurant Supply sales-job continues to be the small post-shrimp-boat career. The small fifteen-years-on-the-Galveston-Bay shrimp-boat had ended in 2018 when the small back went out and the small bending-and-hauling work became the small impossibility. The small restaurant-supply role is the small forty-hour-week-with-benefits the small post-shrimping life rests on.

The small Vietnamese-American community in Houston is the small social-spine. The small Bellaire-area is the small Little Saigon district. The small Hong Kong City Mall is the small Saturday-grocery-trip destination. The small Vietnamese church (Our Lady of Lavang) is the small Sunday-worship. The small community is the small refugee-and-immigrant-descended network that has been Bobby’s small lifelong-place.

Bobby’s parents came over from Vietnam in 1981 as the small boat-people-refugees. The small mother (Bich) lives in the small adjacent neighborhood. The small father (Hung) passed in 2020 from COVID. The small mother-visits are the small Sunday-afternoon-rhythm. The small pho-and-com-and-banh-mi heritage continues through the small mother-cooking-with-Bobby Sunday afternoons.

The three kids are now adults. Tyler is the small oldest, Emma is the small middle, Lily is the small youngest. The small divorce in 2015 (after Bobby’s affair) had been the small marriage-end. The small kids have been the small slow-rebuild of the small father-trust. The small Linh (Bobby’s older-sister, the small pediatrician in Houston) has been the small adult-presence the small kids look to.

The small backyard grill is the small Houston-cooking-engine. The small Vietnamese-grilled-pork (thit nuong), the small grilled-shrimp (the small irony of the small ex-shrimper still grilling shrimp), the small bo nuong (grilled-beef), the small ga nuong (grilled-chicken). The small charcoal-grill in the small backyard of the small Bellaire-bungalow runs almost every weekend.

The small Houston-summer-heat-and-humidity is the small weather-reality. The small grill outdoors at five-AM-on-the-weekend trick is the small same trick the small Phoenix-firefighter Marcus uses but for different climate-reasons. The small Texas-Gulf-coast humidity is the small constant. The small Vietnamese-summer-cooking traditions are the small adaptation.

The pho is the anchor, but the marshmallows are the quiet ending. Every year after the broth is cleared and the grandchildren are asleep on the couches, I put a pot of water on for Vietnamese coffee and hot cocoa, and I float these in the mugs — soft, dusted in powdered sugar, made two days ahead so there’s nothing to do at midnight but enjoy them. Mai had one in her water glass this year, just the sugar off the top. Ruby was already asleep. Sixteen people, one batch of marshmallows, and the year turns over exactly the same as it always does. That’s the gift.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 10 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes + 6 hours setting | Servings: 48 marshmallows

Ingredients

3 envelopes (21g total) unflavored powdered gelatin
1/2 cup cold water, for blooming gelatin
2 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup light corn syrup
1/2 cup water
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract (optional, for holiday flavor)
Red and green food coloring (optional)
1 cup powdered sugar, for dusting
1/2 cup cornstarch, for dusting
Nonstick cooking spray

Instructions

Bloom the gelatin. Pour the cold water into the bowl of a stand mixer. Sprinkle the gelatin over the surface and let sit undisturbed for 10 minutes until softened and bloomed.
Cook the sugar syrup. In a medium saucepan, combine the granulated sugar, corn syrup, and 1/2 cup water over medium heat. Stir until the sugar dissolves, then bring to a boil without stirring. Cook until the syrup reaches 240°F (soft-ball stage) on a candy thermometer, about 8–10 minutes.
Beat the marshmallow base. With the stand mixer on low speed using the whisk attachment, carefully pour the hot syrup in a slow, steady stream down the side of the bowl into the bloomed gelatin. Add the salt. Gradually increase speed to high and beat for 10–12 minutes until the mixture is thick, glossy, and has tripled in volume.
Add flavoring. With the mixer on low, add the vanilla extract and peppermint extract if using. If swirling colors, divide the mixture and fold in food coloring separately before combining with a light swirl.
Spread and set. Lightly coat a 9x13-inch baking pan with nonstick spray and dust generously with half the powdered sugar–cornstarch mixture (combined). Pour the marshmallow mixture in and smooth the top with a lightly oiled spatula. Dust the top with more powdered sugar mixture. Let set uncovered at room temperature for at least 6 hours or overnight.
Cut and coat. Turn the set marshmallow slab out onto a cutting board dusted with the remaining powdered sugar mixture. Using a lightly oiled knife or pizza cutter, cut into 1 1/2-inch squares. Toss cut pieces in powdered sugar mixture to coat all sides so they don’t stick.
Store or serve. Store in an airtight container at room temperature, layered between parchment, for up to 2 weeks. Float in hot Vietnamese coffee, hot cocoa, or serve alongside your NYE dessert spread.

Nutrition (per serving, 1 marshmallow)

Homemade Holiday Marshmallows — The Sweet End to Sixteen People and Midnight Pho