A truth in my life is: I am not a culinary genius. No one will ever write home raving about the masterpieces coming from my kitchen.
Oh, I watch Chopped as much as the next gal surfing television channels for something the kids and adults can watch together without guerrilla-attacks of sexual innuendo or a**-bombs, but when they start talking about sewing gummy bears to a dress or using a secret ingredient of eel tails to create a gourmet plate my eyes glaze over and my brain starts thinking about the Latin roots of various words I enjoy. (Like lackadaisical. Mmmm… that’s a good word.)
I want to be an excellent cook and I’m certainly improving, but I’m just not in the master-arena. At all.
My first year of marriage oxidized, black hash browns pushed me to tears.
Two summers ago I was defeated by a frozen banana and its eerie resemblance to a well-laid length of poop.
Shortly after that I started a small microwave fire.
Recently I used salt instead of sugar in my blackberry pound cake.
Oh, I have stories to tell of my cooking gaffes.
I mention all of this to convince you I genuinely need your help with a kitchen endeavor.
About a week ago my brother-in-law shared a piece of fudge with me and I thought my taste buds were going to explode in ecstasy. I don’t typically like fudge, but this piece… oh, my! It was creamy, nougaty, and had the perfect amount of chocolately sweetness.
I’ve been craving fudge ever since but I don’t have the recipe. What I do have is a recipe off the bottle of Marshmallow Fluff, another off the bottle of Kraft’s Jet-Puffed Marshmallow Creme, and a fudge-in-a-box package from Carnation.
I also took the plunge and bought my very first can of evaporated milk. I feel all giddy inside.
There’s a decent chance I’m only going to try this once, so I need input from the fudge-makers out there: what’s the best fudge recipe? Are there any tricks I need to know before I burst onto the fudge scene with a vengeance?