Fudgetastic!

This week, I have been mostly boiling up big pans of sugar to obscene temperatures and trying to create yummy things to eat, with varying degrees of sucess.

I love the fact that such simple ingredients (butter, milk, sugar) turn when heated into something with such a completely different texture to its component parts, and something so yummy to boot. Fudge is my kind of thing. Unfortunately, I'm not particularly good at it.

There's been a great deal of excitement this week as my friend D was having a birthday. I've been collecting little presents for her since July, so you can imagine my delight at finally being able to wrap and assemble them. I located some pretty Cath Kidston wrapping paper, prepared all my parcels, sat back and looked at them...and there was definitely something missing. It felt All Wrong. I needed to add something that I'd actually made, something I'd lovingly slaved over, something that said "I'm thinking about you!" a bit louder than stuff I'd bought from shops. After all, on my birthday D surprised me with a huge tin of sparkly cupcakes - the least I could do was return the favour!

So, fudge it was. I blithely promised our other friend L that I would simply prepare a batch of fudge quickly on Monday evening, ready for D's birthday on Tuesday. How hard could it be?

On Monday I bought plenty of sugar, plenty of butter, and plenty of milk and created my first panful of sweet stuff. Everything was going ever so well until suddenly the bubbling lava-like stuff turned dark brown, started spitting cruelly and quickly became inedible toffee right before my very eyes. I said something rather stronger than "bugger". Then I said it again. Then I cried a little bit. Then the husband calmed me down and encouraged me to try another batch.

Second batch looked MUCH more promising. All golden and gooey and bubbly when WHOOMP - dark brown and curdly-looking and smelling burnt, before the thermometer even showed the correct temperature. I didn't even bother swearing at this batch. Resigned and pink-eyed, I opened the laptop and fired up Google to find a different recipe.

The recipe I found had slightly different proportions and advised heating the mixture at a lower temperature to begin with than my first recipe had recommended. I didn't hold out much hope, what with me being Fudge Doom, but I thought I ought to at least try. So I weighed out yet more sugar and butter and got to work.

Imagine my delight when my third batch of fudge mixture turned with textbook-like perfection to creamy golden bubbles and gently reached the required temperature without me needing to swear at all. I quickly added almond essence and chopped glace cherries when I'd taken it off the heat and crossed my fingers as I poured it into the waiting dish. A couple of hours later I went to slice the fudge and knew I'd finally achieved success.

Apart from D's birthday itself, that fudge success was the highlight of my week. Let's all cheer the little things...