Yes, it’s an empty plate. I had fudge. Great fudge made by the best fudge maker ever.
But before I took a photo I ate it.
All of it.
So my choices were an empty plate or a photo of my extended stomach. You should be happy. The plate won.
Fudge is one of those memory joggers in my life. My Aunt Valerie made fudge when I was little and it was a mysterious thing. I wanted to know how she did it. Still do.
I’d try but it only turned out like my aunt’s 50% of the time. Was it because:
the humidity was too high,
I didn’t own a candy thermometer,
or I thought water from the tap was cold enough to test for the magic threads which let you know when it was time to take the fudge off the stove?
Or was it because I was impatient? Those that know me well are now nodding their heads yes at this one. I can persevere, but it’s because I have to considering how many times I jump ahead trying to finish something, only to have to start over.
I kept trying through the years, my brother and I would twirl the taffy like fudge onto a spoon to eat it. Sometimes we needed the ice pick to break off a section. We were troupers never giving up on eating it no matter how it turned out.
Then something wonderful happened. I met Janice through our church. She makes fudge. Great fudge and my most favorite kind of all: white chocolate fudge!
So not only is ‘F’ for Fudge it’s also for Friend, she is now my Fudge Friend. She get’s this title because when I told her my sad tale of having eaten my fudge without taking a photo, she drove over to my house with this:
Meet my friend, Janice.
It’s a2z week! See what others have to say at Patty Wysong’s blog.
posted by Diana Lesire Brandmeyer