Thursday, May 7, 2015

Recipe for Writer’s Block Fudge

I’ll let you in on a little secret—The only difference between Writer’s Block Fudge and fudge is that I’m the one who’s making it.

However, in recent history, I’ve come to find making fudge as a great catharsis for me whenever I have writer’s block (or any sort of frustrating moment.) It’s not just about eating it, but the actual process of making it calms me down and gives me a moment to think. By exercising my brain in a somewhat remedial task, I allow myself to breath, think, and possibly have a “shower epiphany.” The power of getting your mind onto something else can be amazing.

Realize that I am a writer, not a cook, and as such, instead of specific planning and measuring, I enjoy the finer process of “winging it.”

If you would like a more left-brained approach to cooking—with actual measurements and everything—I’d recommend trying someone who does this for a living.

What you will need…

Coco Powder
Sugar
Salt
Cream (Preferably half and half.)
Marshmallows

(Yes, it can make you puke.)

Make sure to have a large microwavable bowl. The biggest you can get.

Directions

Three cups of sugar.
Two heaping table spoons of coco powder. (Don’t be precise about the amount. You can experiment with how chocolaty you want it, and there’s a decent flexibility.)
Shake, shake, shake, a regular table salt shaker. (Like a pinch of salt, really. Also don’t be precious.)

Mix in large bowl.

Poor in cream until it is the consistency of syrup. Start with a little, you won’t need a lot, and then add some in while stirring. You want to be able to pick up your spoon and have it as thick as possible, but still have a constant stream instead of the clump, clump, clump dripping.

Put in microwave.

This is the most problematic area. With candy, the cooking time is extremely important and never consistent. It can be affected by altitude, time of year, and even humidity of that day. I was told to cook it for six minutes, but I would recommend cooking for four minutes first, then intervals of a minute after.

To check if it’s done, put cold water into a dish you can touch the bottom of. Drip some fudge into it, ball the fudge up and try to balance it on your finger. If it clumps enough to balance there for a moment, it is done. If it is too liquidy and falls off, stir the large bowl and try another minute.

I, however, find this process entirely gross, so gauge based on how it clumps in the water. If it looks like diarrhea, it’s not done yet. If it clumps a decent amount, you can take it out. If it is stringy like little worms, it’s overcooked. No, I do not consider this description more gross than touching fudge in water, thank you.

Add marshmallows. You will want about two fistfuls, but again this is something to experiment with.

The freshness of the marshmallows only matters based on how long you want to be stirring for. Even those harder than the back of God’s head won’t affect the taste—but you’re going to be at it all day. A freshly opened pack will go quickly and quietly.

Butter two plates (though I never actually butter them myself) and pour. Chill for at least thirty minutes.

Don’t worry too much about screwing up. For the most part the only thing you’ll affect is the texture, but it will still be completely edible and delicious. You want it to be firm, but not sticky or grainy. A caramel-like texture is a sign of too much marshmallows, a grainy texture is that of under cooking.


Enjoy until you puke. Then get back to work.


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