Fudge Therapy

I am famous in some circles (namely some family members and a few select friends) for my old-fashioned chocolate fudge. Since it’s the Christmas season, I am attempting to make several batches of fudge for my loved ones, and myself. I say “attempting” because I don’t want to jinx it and risk the chance that the random ingredients do not magically turn into candy. 

Mom claims that she made fudge all the time when we were kids and I do vaguely recall her memories of Dad getting me and Stacy and Heather to chant, “Fudge, fudge, fudge, fudge…” until she broke down and went to the kitchen for the rest of the night.

Though I don’t remember Mom’s fudge, I do remember a night years later, after Mom and Dad divorced, when Mom went to The Smokehouse to hang out with all her friends and left us at home with nothing good to eat. Rifling through the kitchen cabinets, I came across a 5-lb. Bag of sugar and a can of Hershey’s cocoa. I was a 12-year-old babysitter to my little sisters and I guess I was supposed to be feeding them a bologna sandwich or something, but instead, I dug out a scratched teflon saucepan from below the stove and went to work on the recipe on the back of the Hershey’s can. 

Two hours later, I ended up with a soft ball-sized block of brownish-colored sugar and threw it in the trash along with the gross pan. The next time, I ended up with a blob of sticky paste that didn’t taste right. I fed it to Stacy and Heather and somehow got that pan clean. Mom went out most nights during that time, so I had plenty of opportunities to practice. Finally, Lady Luck smiled on me and I had my first successful plate of fudge. I grudgingly gave Stacy and Heather a piece and hid the rest of it under my bed. (We lived in an every-man-for-himself type situation in those days.) I was working towards a serious sugar addiction then and that fudge was the Holy Grail, filling dark holes of pain caused by my parents’ divorce and the aftermath.

The recipe on the can seems easy enough, but anyone who has ever attempted to make sugar and cocoa turn into creamy, smooth candy knows that there is luck involved. The first twenty five years of my fudge making, I’d say my success rate was not much over 50%. But in 1983, Dad, who had a big investment in that success rate since he was one of the main recipients of my candy, purchased an ancient candy thermometer at a garage sale. Dad was never impressed by many of the things I accomplished, but when he bit into a piece of fudge with English Walnuts, his eyes rolled up in his head and he whispered, “Leslie, you’re a saint.”

My success rate had increased to about 70% by the time I went to college and started making my fudge in the dorm kitchen. Deb and I lived together in a room with two twin beds and a mini-fridge in between. My first effort looked suspicious to me and I was sure the batch wouldn’t set. 

“I think it’s gonna work,” said Deb, trying to poke the fudge with her finger.

 “I’ve been making fudge long enough to know a failure when I see one!” I yelled, shoving the plate into the tiny mini fridge. “Let’s leave it overnight and see what happens.”

In the wee hours of the morning, I heard the refrigerator door opening and snapped, “Get out of that fudge.” 

“It worked! It’s perfect!” Deb said, entranced.

About ten years ago, my sweet husband bought me a wonderful set of All-Clad Copper-bottom pans, which became a total fudge-making game-changer. The fudge worked out almost every time. I got so excited about my near-perfect success rate that I sent a box to my friend, Ted in Kentucky. He casually informed me that he received tons of goodies for Christmas, so he might share my fudge with his farm crew. A few days later, he told me that he’d given away all the other sweets and kept my fudge for himself. “I”ve been licking the final piece for the last 24 hours trying to make it last.” 

So Ted was added to the list. I make five batches every Christmas — Dad, Deb, Ted, my daughter Chloe and myself. That’s it. If you want fudge, I have included my recipe below. If you have lots of years to practice and any dark holes of pain to fill, I highly recommend it.  

Leslie’s Top Secret Fudge Recipe

(aka recipe on Hershey’s Cocoa can)

3 ¼ hours/40 minutes prep

Serves 36 (What? Yeah, right!)

3 cups sugar

2/3 cup cocoa

1 ½ cups milk

⅛ teaspoon salt (I like ¼ or even ½ teaspoon)

¼ cup butter

1 teaspoon vanilla

Line 8 or 9 inch square pan with foil; butter foil. (I use a buttered plate.)

Grease sides of heavy saucepan with butter. Mix milk, sugar, cocoa and salt and then stir in milk. Bring to a rolling boil and boil for one minute. Reduce heat to low and boil/simmer without stirring. DO NOT STIR!

(Sounds simple enough, but here’s where it starts to get ugly. You must simmer for a LONG time, abstaining from the stirring for as long as you can stand it. You also have to yell at anyone who enters the kitchen and tries to stir it surreptitiously. I’m just saying, seriously, try not to stir. You must check it often to make sure it is gently boiling, but not scorching. This is where the magic happens and magic takes time. This three hours of your life could be truly wasted if this fudge doesn’t turn out. And everyone around you will be smelling it and asking when it will be ready. This is a good time to prepare everyone for failure and be ready to accept it yourself.)

Use a candy thermometer and boil until it reaches a soft-ball stage. 

(I usually like to get it to around 234 degrees and see large bubbles over small bubbles.)

(Or, when you drip it off the spoon, it looks thick. And, when you drop it in a bit of cold water, it sticks together and makes a ball. And, when you taste it, it burns your tongue off. It is now ready to take off the heat. At this stage, don’t listen to anyone who has an opinion about whether or not it will set. No one knows.)

Add butter and vanilla. Let cool to 120 degrees.

(This is when it no longer burns your tongue off.)

Beat with a wooden spoon until the fudge thickens and loses its gloss.

(Or until your arm drops off, whichever comes first. This step is BS. I’ve never seen the fudge lose its gloss until it’s too late and it comes out of the pan in a hard mass. Only experience will determine when you stop. It helps if you have a tag-team partner like Omar!)

Quickly spread into a buttered plate.

(Pray to whatever God you believe in because that’s your only hope. This could actually turn into candy. In the event it doesn’t, pour over ice cream or crumble it into your mouth. Grieve it and move on.)

Give a few pieces away and hide the rest under your bed. And be happy!