Pecan Candy (Pralines) Memories and Recipe

In New Orleans, we call it ”Pecan Candy,” but you may know of it as “Pralines,” but whatever it’s called it’s one of the best confections I ever ate. If you never bit into a creamy, nutty piece of pecan candy, you have been missing a delicious treat!

One of my favorite memories was being in my Big Momo (great grandmother) and Lil Papa (great grandfather, we called him Lil, because he was a small man especially compared to my grandfather) backyard picking up pecans with my cousins. The more of the little we gathered meant pecan candy. I would often find myself using the one for you, one for my method, because I was nutty for pecans. The children couldn’t use the one treasured nutcracker outside, so like a squirrel, I would crack the nuts open with my teeth. Yes, my teeth, on the left-back molars. The other was placing two pecans in your palm and squeezing them together, and that took strength. Once we cleared the yard of pecans, we would get sticks to knock some from the branches. We had to make sure to avoid hitting down the pecans that weren’t ripe. Pecan nuts on the tree are contained in their shells in an outer husk or hull. This hull is green, and you’ll see hulls in clusters among the tree’s branches. Pecans are ready for harvest when the green hulls split open on the tree, dropping the nuts in their shells to the ground. We enjoyed our time of pecan hunting, toss the pecans in the bucket and pecan tree pinata. We were a creative bunch.

We collected more than enough, and my Momo (my grandmother) would bag up the nuts for us to take home. My Mama put ours in a basket on the dining room table, leaving them at risk to be eaten. Often, the plan for using the nuts to make pecan candy went out the window, because we ate most of them. I can hear my Mama telling us, “Don’t eat all the pecans, because we have to make candy,” but she would dig in the basket. We would sit at the kitchen table with the pecans, a hammer, towel, and a bowl to put the meat in. With the right wack to the pecan would result in cracking it right up the middle, leaving two perfect pecan halves as you find at the store. Whoever accomplished this was given the title of Queen of Pecans, and the prize was the spoon and pot after the candy was scooped out. You may be wondering what the deal with the pot and spoon is? Once all the candy is spooned out and cooling the spoon and pot will have candy left just like cake batter in a bowl. And having that pot and spoon will help you from burning your mouth on hot candy because the hot candy will call for you to eat it while it’s hot causing you to but your tongue. The candy can be cool to the touch, but burning hot in center.

I was about six years old when I started helping with making candy, and my Mama would tell me to this day ”Be careful because that candy will burn a hole through you. Don’t eat that candy till it’s cooled completely; you will burn your tongue.” Over the years I would envision a hole in my palm of my hand and made sure to put an oven mitt on while scooping. Now, the candy is very hot, hot enough to cause a third-degree burn and I have burned my tongue plenty times.

I have so many memories of making pecan candy with the women in my family, not sure if that’s good or bad speaking as in calories lol. My Momo would allow me to test out various recipes as a teenager, and the result varied from gummy taffy-like from using imitation vanilla to hard brittle from overcooking. She ate it no matter what always complimenting on my flavor. When it would come out sticky, she would pop it in the freezer and say “Umm-hmm it’s good like this. It’s a chewy caramel pecan candy.” And when it came out perfect, let’s say if you weren’t there or came over before noon the next day, then you were out of luck. That pecan candy had us getting up out our sleep to get a piece…It’s addictive.

From gathering the pecans in my Big Momo backyard in Kenner to that first delicious creamy, nutty bite, pecan candy has a special place in my heart. I enjoy seeing the looks on my girl’s faces as they hover over the table licking their lips, asking, “Are they cool enough yet!” Sweet memories…

Here’s my Momo recipe, I hope to make it will put a smile on your face and touch your heart as you stand and stir.

I highly suggest using a candy the monitor, a heavy pot ( I prefer a Magnalite pot) but a Dutch oven will do and a wooden spoon. Vanilla is essential, DO NOT use Imitation Vanilla, it will add water to your candy. I like Madagascar Vanilla, or you may use a good Bourbon or Whiskey too.

Candy is traditionally made during the holidays, cool weather season, and for some reason, the old school cooks swear the weather matters. So, if the weather is humid, you may need to cook the pralines a little past the soft-ball stage.

Mrs. Altia “Momo” Nora Pecan Candy Recipe

How to Make It

Step 1

Bring sugars and milk to a boil in a heavy pot, stirring often. Place a cup of water in the freezer for the cold water drop test to check for consistency. Cook over medium heat, frequently stirring, 11 minutes or until a candy thermometer registers 228° (thread stage).



Step 2

Stir in butter and pecans; cook, constantly stirring, until candy thermometer registers 235° (softball stage). To test for the soft-ball stage, get the cold water cup from the freezer drop a bit of candy into the cup, and reach into the cup with your finger and push the candy around into a ball. If it shapes and stays, then it’s ready. If not, cook a little more, keeping a close eye on the temperature. DO NOT PASS 236, or they will not be the right texture and consistency.

Step 3
Remove from heat; stir in vanilla. Beat with a wooden spoon 1 to 2 minutes or just until the mixture begins to thicken. Quickly drop by heaping tablespoonfuls onto buttered marble countertop/slab, foil, wax paper or parchment paper; let stand until firm.






Pecan Candy History

Picture from the 80s


French settlers brought the recipe to Louisiana, where both sugar cane and pecan trees were plentiful. During the 19th century, New Orleans chefs substituted pecans for almonds, added cream to thicken the confection, and thus created what became known throughout the American South as the praline.

Pralines have a creamy consistency, similar to fudge. They are usually made by combining sugar (often brown), butter, cream or buttermilk, and pecans in a pot over medium-high heat, and constantly stirring until most of the water has evaporated, and it has reached a thick texture with a brown color. This is then usually dropped by spoonfuls onto wax paper or a sheet of aluminum foil greased with butter, and left to cool.[2][7]

‘Pralines and Cream’ is a popular ice cream flavor in the United States and Canada. In New Orleans, Acadiana, and Baton Rouge, Louisiana, pralines are sometimes called “pecan candy.”

Source: Wikipedia


A native of New Orleans, who left her beloved New Orleans to spend twenty years of living in the land of Minnesota Not So Nice. Minnesota was full of opportunities but would learn that the soul of the state and the people who made it was just as icy cold as the temperatures. After the years and my 40th birthday flew by, I decided it was time to pack up my youngest child and come back to my roots, my birthplace the city that not only birthed me but gave me life. I would not be who I am without my New Orleans beginnings. I am all things that would challenge the belief of growing up in New Orleans. I was a 16yr old teen mother of a premature baby born with a severe medical disability. And only With the help of my mother, was it possible for me to BE! I was able to endure and survive the obstacles laid before my child and me. In a city that was built by my family, but did not allow for us to reap the benefits I overcame. Charity Hospital was my second home — a building filled with miracle workers who made it possible for my daughter to have life. I have lived a life of rainy days with peeks of sunshine, that are my children, including those not of my womb. I'm the proud mother of three and a grandmother of three. My dream was to live the life of the nursery rhyme of ”The Old Lady Who lived in a shoe,” and for the most part, I did. I cared for several children over the years as a special needs foster parent. I would learn that my love was not enough for some children, but I loved them through their pain. I'm not sure if I ever had a case of true love or came close to what love looks like on television, but I had my share of men and the mirage of love. I survived two abusive marriages. Though I longed to return to New Orleans on a daily bases, I must admit my move was one of the best decisions made for me. I am a college graduate; I was a successful entrepreneur. I coowned a soul food restaurant and catering company in Minnesota for 12 years. I developed the talent of creating custom cakes after the murder of my beloved cousin Melvin Paul. He survived Katrina only to go to Minneapolis six months later to be murdered over a parking spot dispute. But with the challenge of creating a simple wedding cake, I was able to find healing. I created the House of Cakes in honor of him. Minnesota life had me pretty materialistic. I worked to the point I do not remember much, but work and handing my children love money. I thought by having the big house on the hill, a husband, having a family, the ultimate provider and being involved in all things that matter, plus having the funds to match would cure me of what I was told was a generational curse of lack of everything from money, love to even self-love. But for the most part, that life poisoned my heart and soul. I was blinded by visions fed to me by the media. I was told I wasn't anything unless I was better than the Jones's. I lived being ok with a broken, bleeding heart. Life like this did not exist in my family while living in New Orleans from what I viewed with my eyes and soul. We may not have had all the things I acquired over the years, but we were happy, we were together. Family outside of New Orleans wasn't family anymore. We lived separate lives and had awkward moments when we bumped into each other in public. I hated living in Minnesota even though life their helped me in so many ways. I felt deep down the only way to repair it was to get back to my roots, my soul, my home, myself, my New Orleans. I'm here, and I love it. Even being in the so-called Blighted Area of New Orleans and not having all the financial and material security, I'm happy. I am determined that She, yes, New Orleans is a woman is just like me; together, we will overcome and will rise from all that tried to kill our spirit. Nothing like starting from the bottom and making your way back up!. I just know in my heart that New Orleans will provide for me. There's a bank account with funds in it owed to me by way of back pay for my ancestors. And I will receive my inheritance, and I will continue the traditions and customs of the old to keep the heartbeat of New Orleans beating. I'm down in the boot, living the life that feels right to me awaiting my destiny...

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