The Great Fudge Debacle.

My dad makes the most incredible fudge. Truthfully, my dad is basically a gourmet chef--everything he makes is unbelievably delicious--but fudge is one of his specialties. (If you don't believe me, ask April.) I've never even tried to make it, because let's be honest--when someone else can do it to perfection, why even bother trying, right? :) Well, this year my folks came up to Portland for Christmas, so my sister and I were doing most of the goodie making for the family, and we decided a batch or two of fudge was definitely in order...despite the fact that neither one of us had ever tried it.

Now let me back up for a minute. About a week before our big baking extravaganza, April and I were on the phone. For years and years and years she would come over to our house around Christmastime and she always loved my dad's fudge. So much so that, the winter she was pregnant with her oldest boy (and I mean like 7 1/2 months pregnant), despite the fact that her parents were on a mission and not home that year, she talked her husband into making the very snowy, somewhat treacherous journey home for Christmas anyway to get some of his delicious fudge. (She SAYS it was to see me and some of her family, but I'm pretty sure I know the truth! ;) Love you, April!) I always try to send her a care package with fudge if we aren't going to see each other around the holidays, but this year, I didn't know if my dad would be making fudge. So when we were on the phone, she told me she had found my dad's fudge recipe, and she had finally decided she was going to attempt it....until she started looking into it further. She told me she had done some research online to get some tips for making fudge, and found out that fudge fails A LOT. Like more than 50% of the time. And usually it's because it fails to set up properly. So then she got intimidated and decided to abandon the fudge mission.

The night before the big baking day, when my sister announced her intention to try making fudge, I filled her in on April's findings. She said, "Dad makes it every year and it's never failed. It can't be that hard!" Little did we know...

Baking day came around. We had several projects going at once, but Amy decided it was time to attempt the fudge-making. She grabbed the recipe and started gathering ingredients...only to discover we had mistakenly purchased sweetened condensed milk instead of evaporated milk. Oops. Strike one. (That's what we get for shopping without the recipes! Although, come to think of it, we actually had that recipe with us...oops.)

A quick trip to the store later, attempt # 2 was underway. Amy started putting ingredients into the pan, and suddenly her friend Julie and I heard, "Oh s#*%!" Apparently her hands were working a little too quickly and she had dumped in twice as much evaporated milk as the recipe called for, so with a little quick thinking, she decided to double the batch. (My dad told us later he's never had much success doubling the recipe...that would have been good information.)

She said she didn't know if the pan she was using would be big enough for a double batch, but decided to carry on anyway. (Strike 2.) A few moments later, as she was madly stirring and watching the thermometer, Julie and I heard, "Oh s#*%! There's a fire!" Apparently the saucepan she was using had started leaking out of the grommets that hold the handle on, and when the syrupy concoction hit the burner, there was fire. Eeeeek! We tried to wipe off the outside of the pan, but the heat and stickiness made it pretty difficult. Nevertheless, she carried on.

After a few minutes, as the beginnings of fudge started to grow with the heat, we again heard, "Oh s#*%! Quick! Get me a bigger pan! It's going to overflow!" I hurriedly rummaged through her cupboards and found a large pan and gave it to her. She quickly dumped the contents of the saucepan into the bigger pan with an, "Oh s#*%! It burned me!" Then we heard, "Oh s#*%! I spilled it! There's another fire!!" In her hurry to transfer from one pan to another, she had spilled a little bit of the hot mixture onto herself, which then caused a little more to slosh onto the stove, and voila, another fire!

We quickly put the fire out and she resumed the temperature watch. Two more burns and one more "Oh s#*%!" later, it finally got up to the right temperature and Julie quickly helped her add the rest of the ingredients and got it poured into the pan.

Amy announced that making fudge was the worst idea EVER, and when she called our family to tell them about it, she said it was the most dangerous thing she'd ever done. Julie and I laughed hysterically about the whole thing, and I sent April a text saying something like, "6 curse words, three burns, and two fires later, we completed our first attempt at making my dad's fudge."

Her response? "Yeah...but did it set up?"

Yes, ma'am. Our first attempt at fudge = SUCCESS! :)

Kids, don't try this at home. ;)