One of my favorite holiday traditions (and favorite treats too) is making fudge with my mom and sister-in-law. You may think I’m just saying it, but I promise I’m not: my mom’s fudge is the best! It takes a long time (about an hour and a half) to make, and a whole lot of work, but man is the finished product worth it.
My mom was dismayed when she made a batch of fudge a couple weeks ago to discover her candy thermometer (which is about 25 years old, PSBTW) does not work properly anymore and would have to be retired. She bought a new one but hasn’t been brave or ambitious enough to try it out . . . until today.
While the rest of us played a rousing game of Aggravation (which my nephew and I won twice in a row –wahoo!), my mother stirred a batch of fudge together. As it got closer and closer to the point where it had to come out of the pan and be worked with our hands, we all ran over to the sink to wash our hands and butter them up so we could help out.
The new thermometer helped, but the fudge still didn’t quite turn out how we expected. It tastes fantastic but didn’t set up correctly. Sometimes that happens, even though my mom is ever so careful as she makes it. We’re going to leave it be for a few days and hope for the best.
The best part of the experience, however, was my darling two-year-old niece’s comment about the fudge as my mom finished stirring it on the plate. “Ewwwww!” she exclaimed. “That looks like poo!”
Yes, she’s my brother’s daughter all right.
She’s at the age where she says many things that are cute. I’d love to write about all of them, but that’s not the point of the post. But, gosh dang it, we all started laughing hysterically at this comment. We couldn’t help ourselves. And she isn’t necessarily wrong, although I can’t stand to even think about my mom’s delicious fudge being compared to something so yucky!
Here we are working it and hoping it turns out just right.
Just look at what a mess it left on our hands!
Trust me when I say it’s very much worth the effort we put into it. The finished product speaks for itself, even if the analogy leaves something to be desired. Ahh the honestly of children. You’ve got to love them.