As per the agreement with my friends and family, we decided to exchange perishable items this Christmas. Instead of braving the crowds and chaos at the mall and big-box stores, I combed the baking aisle at the grocery store.
The week before Christmas, Tommy would pull the dining room chair into the kitchen so he could talk to me as melted, stirred and poured.
For the past several years the Enterprise-Record has held a dessert contest. About half a dozen folks bring in some delectable and we all have a nibble and then vote. One of the best treats was from Terri, who would have won first place but there were lots of other fabulous treats in the contest.
After nearly melting in ecstasy after tasting her no-bake-rocky-road-bars, I cornered her to rattle off the recipe:
A bag of chocolate chips, half a bag of butterscotch chips, one stick of butter, half a cup of peanut butter. Melt until gooey and then stir in miniature marshmallows and Rice Krispies.
Easy enough.
With one success on my hands I thought I would get crafty.
Tommy said his mom always made fudge when he was a kid so I thought I would wow him with my superwoman baking prowess.
Thinking I would mail off big boxes of the stuff back to Iowa to impress his loved ones, I made a double batch.
For some unknown reason, the fudge didnt harden like it was supposed to. Instead it was like a super-sticky pudding.
I ended up melting more chocolate chips and sort of rolling a spoonful of the mushy mess into the chocolate to make it stick together. They were quite delicious but looked like they were made by a three year old or produced by an enormous rabbit.
With three Corningware dishes filled with the leftover mush large Corningware dishes I thought if I baked the black stuff maybe the chocolate would harden.
This turned out to be another mistake. The concoction was so hard it could have been used for chocolate asphalt in Willy Wonkas chocolate factory.
A week later, the pans are still soaking on the kitchen counter.
It turns out chocolate is trickier than I thought. Its actually somewhat of a science and I think somewhere they probably offer a bachelors in chocolate arts.
Then I tried the microwave version of peanut brittle.
The end product was yummy, but it never got brittle.? Instead it had the consistency of a fruit roll-up.
After botching mass amounts of baking supplies, we went to the library and I checked out some books and learned why the recipe I had used for the fudge had suggested using a candy thermometer.
There was an entire chapter that detailed how not only does chocolate need to melt correctly, at specific temperatures, but it also needs to cool correctly, at specific temperatures.
I knew that most of the dismally deformed treats would be appreciated by my family. It was Christmas and nobody is going to go out of their way to tell you what a failure you are. Of course not, theyll save that for saying behind your back.
Then, an enormous box arrived from Tommys sister Deb in Iowa.
My skin still felt saturated with sugar after four straight nights of baking. There was a sickening sweet smell at the back of my nostrils and the concrete fudge was still staring at me from the corner of the counter.
We opened the Deb box.? Each perfectly formed loaf of banana and pumpkin bread was neatly wrapped in foil. Somehow she froze it so that when it was shipped it arrived perfectly moist.
Then there were the bags of peanut brittle, which snapped into bite-sized bits ready to pop into your mouth.
Next were the seven-layer miracle bars,? that didnt fall apart all over the floor when you took a bite of them.
Of course, there was fudge the perfect kind of fudge where all you need is one little nibble to make your toes curl as you roll your eyes back in your head.
Christmas day I answered the phone and was having a nice chat with Tommys mom. She asked about yada-yada and we talked about yada-yada. The question came up about whether we had received the gifts the family had sent.
Yes,? I couldnt help but snort out. I baked all week with terrible results and then that witch Deb sent us a box of perfect treats.?
Of course I didnt use the word witch.?
Turns out, I wasnt talking to Tommys mom. His sister and mom sound very similar on the phone.
Thankfully, she burst out laughing.
