A Flicker of Doubt - Tim Myers [16]
“She’s decided she wants a candlemaking lesson right now. We’re going to do a pour if you can handle the front by yourself.”
Eve nearly shoved me back to the classroom as I finished grabbing the last few items I needed from our stock. “Go. I’ve got this covered.”
I walked back into the classroom and offered Mrs. Jorgenson the choice between using pellet wax and a solid block, and she didn’t disappoint me.
“What’s the difference between the two?” she asked.
I held up a bag of pearly white pellets. ‘These melt faster, and the results are the same as using wax you break up yourself. I thought you might want to save some time today.”
“We’ll break the wax up ourselves,” she said firmly. “No shortcuts, particularly the first lesson, you know that, Harrison.”
“Okay, here’s the best way to do it.” I chose a heavy Mock of translucent wax, then grabbed a flat screwdriver and a hammer. As I slipped on a pair of goggles from the selection on the shelf behind me, I said, “The object here is to break this block of wax up into small pieces so it melts faster. I like to have chunks about the size of a fifty-cent piece before I’m ready to melt.” I put the wax in a large plastic container on the work table and gave it a few good whacks. Then I retrieved one of the pieces and handed it to her. “That’s a good size.” I started the water boiling on one of our hotplates and put the double broiler on. “The wax melts in here,” I said as I added a few of the chunks I’d freed. “It needs to be around two hundred degrees before we’re ready to pour.”
Mrs. Jorgenson took one of the other pairs of goggles and picked up the tools as if she’d been using them all her life. She attacked that wax block like it owed her money. As I added her shavings and scraps of wax to the double boiler, she said, “I always thought each wax came to you tinted.”
I showed her an array of the blocks I’d grabbed from one of our displays. “It’s a lot easier this way. You can choose whatever color you like. You can even make your own shade or hue, if you’re interested.”
“One step at a time, Mr. Black. Let’s make a basic poured candle first: no dyes, no perfumes, no additives; just the wax and the wick.”
“We can do that,” I said, wondering why anyone would want to make such a simple candle, though not surprised that Mrs. Jorgenson had chosen that route. I showed her how to check the temperature of the wax with the candy thermometer—we weren’t anywhere near where we needed to be yet—and then I showed her how to coat the mold with release. She’d chosen a small tin cone mold to start, one that came with its own base.
“And we just pour the wax straight into it?”
I shook my head. “The wick goes in first. Tie one end to this dowel stick. You can use a pencil if you don’t have one of these handy. Now run the other end through the hole in the base of the mold.” She tied the wick off, ran it through the tin mold, then I handed her a ball of mold seal.
“And this seal is for what purpose?” she asked.
“It keeps the wax from running out the bottom. Get it tight. Is your wick directly in the center of your mold?”
“I think so,” she said as she handed it to me to check.
I glanced at it, then handed it back to her and said, “It looks good to me.”
“What if it’s not in the middle?” she asked.
“It’ll be hard to change it after the wax is poured,” I said with a grin, forgetting for a moment her lack of a sense of humor. I added quickly, “To get an even burn, you need the wick to be centered in the wax. Let’s check that temperature again “
The thermometer read one hundred ninety degrees. “That’s good enough.”
“You said two hundred earlier,” she protested.
“It’s not an exact science, there has to be some feel involved.”
She reached for the pot, but I stopped her and said, “First let’s run some warm water over this jug before we add the wax to it”
“We don’t pour directly into the mold?”
“I suppose you could, but it makes more sense to transfer the wax into something that’s designed for pouring. The water warms the sides so the wax doesn’t cool too