Recipe for Disaster

Bailey’s Irish Fudge

Ingredients

• Two (2) 12-ounce bags of milk chocolate chips

• One (1) 12-ounce bag of semi-sweet chocolate chips

• Two (2) 7-ounce jars of marshmallow cream

• 2 tsp vanilla

• 4 1/2 cups of granulated sugar

• One (1) 12-ounce can of evaporated milk

• 1/2 pound (2 sticks) of salted butter

• 2/3 cup of Bailey’s Irish Cream (any flavor)

Instructions

1. Line a 10x15 pan with aluminum foil. Who wants to wash a million dishes? I loathe nothing more than the scrubbing that follows the process of baking. Well, perhaps the struggle that comes with fitting a flat piece of aluminum foil into a three-dimensional glass pan. My brain threw out those geometry lessons years ago. As soon as the folds and cuts started to resemble an elementary school engineering project, I decided I was done. What was the point? The store sold ready-made aluminum pans. That was the same thing. And they crumpled up for the trash when finished. No need to soak or scrub at chocolate residue that crept over the sides of the foil. I wasn’t lazy, I was a genius.

2. In a medium saucepan, combine the sugar, evaporated milk, and butter. “Medium” meant nothing to me. Staring at the assortment of pans in the cabinet, I always chose wrong the first time. (Ironically, creating another dish I needed to wash. So maybe I was only partially a genius) One cup of sugar was easy enough to envision. Four? That proved beyond the talents of my brain. And while I could stare at the can of evaporated milk and see its size, it went completely flat when opened. The concepts proved too much for my mind to handle. More often than not, I hauled out a soup or stock pot, confident that while I’d spend forever standing at the stove, at least the resulting mixture wouldn’t boil over and make a colossal mess.

3. Heat to a gentle boil until it reaches a fudge-friendly temperature of 235-240°F, stirring every 10 minutes. “A watched pot never boils.” A pot watched by someone with OCD increases in temperature by one degree every two minutes. (No, not because they stare at it) We also turn “every 10 minutes” into “every 10 seconds because what if you glance away from the pot and a piece of sugar burns or a stray bubble bursts too high and splashes sugar over the side of the pot?” I fretted over when the “gentle boil” was allowed to start: after the last tiny sliver of butter melted or when the remainder of the mixture was still liquid? My spoon dug around, hunting for any sign that a lone yellow streak of butter remainder, whole and unincorporated. And don’t get me started on the temperature. Candy thermometers are so imprecise! Was it 240°F or 239°F? Would everything fail if I read the temp a degree off?

4. In a separate heat-resistant bowl, combine the chocolate chips, marshmallow cream, vanilla, and Irish Cream. Candy-making proved a full-body contact sport for me. Unable to leave my sugar mixture unattended—and without the common sense to prepare my other ingredients ahead of time—I struggled to stir with one hand and dump the remainder in a bowl with the other. Balancing a jar of marshmallow cream on the rim of a bowl and attempting to scrape it with a spatula, as if I possessed the coordination to manage two tasks simultaneously. All my efforts yielded were burns against my fingers and bruises on my arm. With the unfortunate loss of many chocolate chips to the floor.

5. Pour the sugar mix over the chocolate and stir to incorporate. DO NOT USE A MIXER! By the time I decided the candy thermometer read the appropriate temperature, I was exhausted. Only to be confronted by the worst exercise of the process: battling sticky sugar one-handed. The boiling heat did little to motivate the marshmallow to move. Hands wrapped in towels and oven mitts, I fought to get a spoon through the mixture. All while regretting my obsessive stirring not minutes before on the stove. My arms ached with the resistance; worse than any aerobic workout. (RIP my destroyed hand mixer I attempted to use that one time)

6. Pour the fudge mixture into the pan and place in the refrigerator to chill overnight. Why did baking require so much physical exertion? After exhausting myself (was the sweat from the heat or the workout?), I now needed to lift the weighty bowl to dump the mixture into the pan—preferably without burning myself any further. And it wasn’t any less sticky for the incorporation of molten sugar! I muttered uncomplimentary things about the original creator under my breath as I finally shoved the pan into the fridge. And stared at the stack of sticky, sugar-coated dishes waiting for me.

Twenty-four hours later, my knife slid through…sludge. Not fudge. My clever decision to avoid an extra dish had, apparently, avoided a necessary element of the recipe. Excessively temperamental, it failed to set up without the glass pan.

Even another day later.

And another.

Giving up, I scooped it out and dumped it on ice cream. Dammit, I had invested too much brain and body energy on the damn thing. (I refused to think about the extra number of spoons I used eating the fudge as a topping)

Incidentally, this recipe is a fan favorite. And this is the actual recipe, if you’re interested—minus my notes. 😉