thewildhunt (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
thewildhunt) wrote2024-11-24 12:38 pm
thewildhunt) wrote2024-11-24 12:38 pm
Entry tags:
Thanksgiving
Friends with a Native family and they celebrate T-Day because they love the food. I told them I celebrate my family on that day, not the pilgrims, and they said they do the same. Hey! We're still here! It's a tad universal, the feast day that celebrates in this way. It makes me happy.
I'll be making my fudge to bring along to my oldest son's house. It's damn good fudge. I cheat and use marshmallow cream to make it silky. But still—damn fine fudge.
Getting it to soft-ball consistency is the hard part. I remember my mother showing me how to tell if it was there or not: A drop in a warm cup of water, and you studied that drop, and it was supposed to look like a little, well, soft ball. You tilted the cup so it would roll around. I studied it, and would say, now? And mom would laugh and say, not yet.
Now I go by the little mud pots that form on the surface as the sugar and butter and cream boil. Once I see a certain look, I know I have five minutes, then it'll be right. I tried to show it to Levi, and he kept saying now? And I said, of course, not yet.
Levi is one of my sons, a chef. He lives in Phoenix now. He moved down a year ago. We miss him terribly. I hope he figured out the recipe for this year. I'll send it to him again, just in case. And here's the thing—if you go by the candy thermometer your fudge will be grainy and hard. Don't ask me why. It needs that five minutes.
Not yet. I can hear my mom's voice. I miss Levi. I miss François. But we celebrate what we have.
I'll be making my fudge to bring along to my oldest son's house. It's damn good fudge. I cheat and use marshmallow cream to make it silky. But still—damn fine fudge.
Getting it to soft-ball consistency is the hard part. I remember my mother showing me how to tell if it was there or not: A drop in a warm cup of water, and you studied that drop, and it was supposed to look like a little, well, soft ball. You tilted the cup so it would roll around. I studied it, and would say, now? And mom would laugh and say, not yet.
Now I go by the little mud pots that form on the surface as the sugar and butter and cream boil. Once I see a certain look, I know I have five minutes, then it'll be right. I tried to show it to Levi, and he kept saying now? And I said, of course, not yet.
Levi is one of my sons, a chef. He lives in Phoenix now. He moved down a year ago. We miss him terribly. I hope he figured out the recipe for this year. I'll send it to him again, just in case. And here's the thing—if you go by the candy thermometer your fudge will be grainy and hard. Don't ask me why. It needs that five minutes.
Not yet. I can hear my mom's voice. I miss Levi. I miss François. But we celebrate what we have.