You Can't Have My Fudge Recipe

A Holiday Monologue

You can’t have my fudge recipe. I know you want it. And I don’t blame you. The buttery goodness, the semi-sweet chocolate chips, the marshmallow cream and the two teaspoons of vanilla extr— Ah ah ah… Nice try.

Honestly, even if I told you everything that was in it, you still couldn’t make it. It’s very difficult. And frankly, I don’t think someone like you has the patience to stir the 4 1/2 cups of sugar and the one can of condensed milk together for ten minutes at a low boil so don’t even try.

You know who did have patience? My great grandmother. This was her recipe. And that’s why I can’t share it. To give it out willy-nilly to everyone who showed interest at the holidays would be diluting her legacy like some street whore and I refuse to be a part of that.

If you do somehow steal the recipe—believe me—I will find out. And when I do, I will break into your house and take all the specific cookware you need to make it properly. The 12-inch wooden spoon, the 8-quart All-Clad pot, the greased rectangular Pyrex dish chilling in the fridge…

SO DON’T EVEN ASK.

Good.

But having said all that… you do want it, right?

You don’t?

Really?

Even if I left the recipe card right here on the kitchen counter and you just peeked at it? Just for a second?

What if I AirDrop it to you? No one ever has to know how you got it. It will be our little secret.

Please just take it. PLEASE.

This recipe is the only interesting thing about my family. Some breed artists. Others build empires. Mine made fudge. FUDGE. What kind of asinine ancestor chooses that? My STUPID GREAT GRANDMOTHER, THAT’S WHO! And every year around Christmas I lie awake in bed thinking about what I would tell her if I had the chance. All the ways she failed our family. All the things I could have been if she had just chosen a different path. A different recipe.

But I never had that chance. She died when she was only forty. Forty. Probably from eating too much fudge.

I need a minute. I’m sorry.

What was that?

You do want the recipe?

Really?

Thank you. THANK YOU! This means so much to me. Truly.

No, you can’t have it.

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