Oh fudge!
And I mean that literally.
This week I tried making a fudge recipe that’s been hiding out in my recipe box for more than thirty years. A gal where I used to work gave me the recipe. Mary Patrick was her name. I still remember her.
I was getting a box around to send off to my best old friend, Trish. I’d picked up a few Sunday-go-to-meetin’ tops for her along with a few other items and I wanted to get them sent. We may not live close to much of anything here, but compared to where Trish lives it’s a virtual metropolis! She’s in the hollers of West Virginia and near where she grew up. Our hearts always call us home, don’t they.
The closest town to her is Iaeger (YAY-ger). It was named for Colonel William G. W. Iaeger, an early settler. The town was platted in 1885 and incorporated in 1917. It was largely a coal mining and logging town, but with the decline in these industries, then a flood on the Tug Fork in 2005 that caused significant and severe water damage to the buildings in Iaeger, there isn’t much there anymore. The population was over a twelve hundred in the 1950s and as of the census of 2010, there were 302 people, 131 households, and 83 families living in the town.
“It’s even less than that now,” Trish told me.
I think there’s a Dollar General there, and Trish is thankful for it, too, otherwise, it’s quite a drive to get groceries and other necessities.
Trish and I are alike in that having fancy new clothes isn’t something that’s important to either one of us. We’re happy with thrift store finds. They tend to be inexpensive and sometimes they’re practically new or even new-new (with tags still attached, no less!) I could also include Miss Rosie in the list of people who shop second-hand stores.
I’m lucky enough to have a thrift shop close to where I live; Trish doesn’t. I like to go in and look for a new-to-me Sunday dress or a pair of jeans. I also really like when I find something for someone I love, especially when they appreciate it.
And that brings me right back to where I started.
I found a few nice tops for her.
“As long as I’m sending them, can I make something for you?”
“I don’t know what that would be,” she said.
“I’m making sugar cookies for my sister, would you like some of them?” I asked. “It’s was my mom’s favorite recipe.”
“I’d try them,” she said.
Thinking of Momma made me think of my beloved Aunt Marie, Momma’s oldest and only sister. I made a fudge recipe for some event and she really liked it.
“How about buttermilk fudge?” I asked Trish. “It was my Aunt’s favorite.” I don’t actually know if that was true, but she did like it.
“I’ve never had it before,” she said. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard of it.”
That made me think of another recipe I used to make and send to Aunt Marie. “How about Sour Cream Sugared Nuts?” I asked.
“I don’t know what those are either.”
“I’ll make those for you at Christmastime,” I told her. “That’s when I would send them to Aunt Marie.”
I got my pot out and got the fudge all put together and put it on the stove. As it started to cook, it foamed up. I knew it would because of the baking soda in it, but I didn’t expect it to out-grow my pot! I pulled it from the heat and got out this bad boy. This is a Chefmate and has a really, really thick bottom. The fudge boiled but didn’t scorch and when I reached in to stir it and accidently touched the top, I didn’t get burned! It wasn’t hot! I was surprised! Boiling at the bottom, cool to the touch at the top — what kind of magic is that?!
I brought the fudge up to soft-ball stage and removed it from the heat. It said to cool before whipping it.
How long do I let it cool? I wondered.
I haven’t made it in so long that I’ve forgotten and the recipe doesn’t say. I turned to AI for help. Copilot said all the professional candy makers cool it to one hundred ten degrees before they whip it.
I left the thermometer in and when I checked it, it was starting to set up and still way over a hundred ten degrees!
Aye-yi-yi!
I broke it up as best as I could but there was no way this was ever going to be fudge, in the traditional sense of the word.
I know that being a sugar-based recipe, I could re-melt it. I just didn’t have time to do it on this day. I’d have to leave for Sunday night movie night at the church soon.
I tasted a piece and it was good. So I picked out some of the larger chunks and arranged them on the tray with the chocolate chip cookies I’d made for movie night. I put the rest away to deal with the next day.
“How did they like them?” you ask.
They liked them. I heard, “This is really good!” more than once and they ate all but a few pieces, which I sent down to the Kipps. If I hadn’t then I’d’ve eaten them, and I don’t need that. Most of the cookies got eaten, too, and they ate all of the Ritz chicken casserole I’d made!
But that’s a different recipe for a different day.
The next day I got out the pot I’d originally started with and put a little milk in along with the fudge crumbs. I had it on a low heat and was bringing it up to temp when I suddenly could smell it burning! Because this isn’t a recipe you stand over and stir constantly, it was quite burnt before I even knew it was scorching.
I was committed at this point and poured it in the prepared pan. It set up just fine but unfortunately, tasted like charcoal. The possums and other nighttime visitors didn’t complain a bit.
I’ll try again when I get ready to send her a Christmas box.
Speaking of critters...
The soap in this picture is Fels Naptha. I use it to make my laundry soap. I open the packages and set them out to dry. They shred better that way.
The humidity was so high that my soap separated.
I’ll set it in the sun, I thought.
Don’t laugh.
It made it worse! I guess I should’ve known it would melt but I didn’t. I thought it would get dry and hard. Sometimes it’s the obvious stuff that escapes me.
I took the tray of soap out of the sun and left it on the patio to dry out. The next thing I know, some of the bars are missing!
Well, it’s not actually the next thing. It’s two weeks later. I wasn’t ready to make laundry soap and I didn’t think anything of letting it sit out.
“If it’s just nibbled on it’s likely a possum,” Copilot said when I asked who took my soap. “If it’s gone then it’s most likely a raccoon.”
I knew I had a possum coming to the patio after we were in bed, but a raccoon?
I set my trail cam up to catch the culprit.
After three days of waiting, I went out in the morning and saw the soap had been nibbled on. That would be a possum, I thought.
I took the trail cam in and downloaded the pictures. Sure enough, the possum had taken a bar of soap off the tray, moved it to the table, nibbled on it, but he didn’t take it.
I caught a nibbler, not a thief.
I’m ready to make soap now so I’ll never know for sure who took my soap.
I make my soap with the Fels Naptha, a box of Borax and a box of washing soda.
I have a dedicated box grater I use to grate the soap. This time, after grating one bar, I decided to try my rotary grater. Wow. What a difference! It made a hard job so much easier — and faster!
“Aren’t you worried about using it for food after grating the soap?” you ask.
Yes and no. A good washing with hot water and dish soap will clean it but if I miss a little, which isn’t outside the realm of possibilities, it would likely taste a little soapy but wouldn’t kill you.
I’ll have to sacrifice a sleeve of crackers before I use them, I thought. The critters would eat the crackers so it wouldn’t be a total waste. As I stood at the sink washing them, my next thought was, I’ll just keep these for soap from now on. My rotary grater came with several sets of blades and I don’t think I’d ever use this particular set anyway.
“Why do you make your own laundry soap?” you ask.
It reduces the amount of plastic we use, for one thing. For another, it’s cheap. This will give me about a hundred sixty loads for a cost of seventeen cents per load.
“But does it clean?” would be your next question.
For us, yes. If I have something that’s more heavily soiled, I do keep commercial laundry soap on hand.
A few mornings ago, I went out to feed Hatch and noticed he had a wound on the side of his face — or maybe you’d say head or neck. I went back into the house to get my camera, but when I returned to the cat room, the sight of it completely freaked him out. He wasn't about to stay in the same room with that camera. Letting him have his breakfast was more important to me than getting a picture, so I left without it.
The next morning, I took my phone out with me instead. For whatever reason, he didn't mind the phone, but I still couldn't get a very good shot of the wound. I don't know what, or who, he tangled with, but he'll have to heal on his own. He's far too wild to let me treat it.
This morning I took my camera with me rather than going back out for it. It worked. Having it with me already didn’t seem to bother him and I got a picture. It’s been a couple of days and I can see it’s healing nicely.
Speaking of cats...
Tiger has not been going very far from home for months now. He’s either with me or with Mike. He sleeps on the top shelf of my art cart if I’m at the desk, or if I’m in the kitchen, he’ll get up on top of the fridge, something he couldn’t do for several months until his torn ACL healed. But now that’s where he hangs out when I’m cooking.
While on the subject of critters...
I really enjoy watching the birds at my feeders.
I’ve repurposed my hummingbird feeder into a seed feeder by simply removing the top. Now it has a use rather than being stored all winter.
I’ve also taken to adding small amounts of seeds to other things I have hanging on the patio. Like these candle holders. That gives the smaller birds a chance at the seeds when the bigger birds are feeding.
This is one of my favorite feeders.
“Does it say Virginia?” you ask.
Actually, it’s a West Virginia plate. Trish’s brother makes them and she gifted me one. Isn’t it fabulous!
For perspective, I waited for a bird to get a seed from the feeder.
As I waited, a nuthatch landed on the pole hanging beside it and started to slide down. He frantically flapped his wings, managed to climb to the top, hopped to the platform, and got his hard-earned seed. It might’ve been easier to let go of the pole and fly back to the platform but he was committed, I’ll give him that. It made me smile.
I was surprised to see I have a Red-winged blackbird coming to my feeder this week.
“I thought they were all gone by now,” Miss Rosie said when I told her.
I had a hunch that if there’s a steady supply of food, some of them might stay. I checked with Copilot and it said he might stay until the first prolonged cold spell. Then don’t be surprised if he’s gone.
It pains me sometimes to admit that I’m a slow thinker. It won’t stop me from telling you about it anyway.
Depending on the time of morning I go out to fill the feeders, the sun blinds me when I’m trying to hang this one back on its screw. For years I’ve been shading my eyes with my other hand so I can see to hang it.
This week was the first time I realized I could face the other direction and still see the screw to hook it!
Aye-yi-yi!
I smiled, shook my head, and went for my camera.
All I can say is it’s a good thing you love me!
Electronics can be as fickle as the critters.
My exercise routine sometimes falls by the wayside. Life gets busy and you miss a day, then two, then a week, and before you know it a month has gone by and you’ve not worked out once!
Quitting for a few months does not mean quitting forever.
I started working out after a hiatus and was really getting back into the routine of working out three days a week when all of a sudden my DVD/VCR combo decided to do its own thing.
“What did it do?” you ask.
It locked me out.
I didn't engage the child lock. In fact, I don't even know how to turn it on. I have no idea how it got activated.
I Googled it. I asked AI. I checked the manufacturer’s book. I tried everything suggested and nothing would unlock it any longer than it took me to push a button. Then it locked up again.
I worked on it for days to no avail. Finally, I broke down and brought in a different player. I unplugged the locked one, hooked up the new (old) one, and found out it would only play in black and white. I didn’t have the right connections but that happens when you’re trying to hook up old electronics with a new-ish TV.
S’kay.
I don’t have to have color.
I worked out for a while (I don’t know how many times), missed a day, then two — and you know what happens then — two months pass.
My weight is out of control and I have to do something. So I’m back to working out again. I’m two weeks in and I don’t think I’ve lost any weight — I don’t want to get on the scale. I know exercise goes hand-in-hand with diet and I’m not very good at that part. But one thing I know for sure, I do feel better.
This week I decided to plug the locked player back in and guess what? It’s unlocked! Leaving it unplugged for days was something that I did try before. The only thing I know that’s different this time is I’d taken the batteries out of the remote. Do you think that had anything to do with it?
The DVD/VCR player isn’t the only piece of equipment that the little electronic gremlins have been tinkering with, either.
“What now?” you wanna know.
My phone.
I’m constantly turning the volume the whole way down when I’m someplace that ringing or notification sounds would be disruptive.
A couple of weeks ago I couldn’t get my media volume to come back on. Most of the time I keep that muted because I don’t need it. But if I ask Google a question, I can’t hear the answer. If I use the GPS on my phone I can’t hear the directions.
Once again I did everything suggested by several sources and nothing worked.
I had CDI class at church this week. Pastor is about the same age as my children so I decided to ask him if he could fix it. I pulled my phone out, poked the volume button — something I’ve done a hundred times, maybe more! — and the volume came on!
Aye-yi-yi!
We went out this week and I took road pictures for you.
The colors aren’t nearly as pretty but there are still plenty of leaves on the trees.
They (whoever “they” are) put reflectors on our bridge.
We got behind a stinky truck.
“That’s creosote,” Mike said. “They use it to protect the railroad ties from things like rot, insects, weather, and it really makes them last a lot longer.”
Whatever. It still stinks and we followed him the whole way to Sayre.
“Is that a plane?” Mike asked.
I raised my camera and took a couple of shots of this low-flying guy. “It’s got pontoons on it.”
“So it’s not a jet?” Mike asked.
A picture of a jet with pontoons flashed through my mind’s eye and I laughed. “No, it’s not a jet.”
My eye noticed something white in the cliff face. Even with my zoom I couldn’t tell what it was. I suspect it’s just the way the light was hitting the rock.
And that’s all the road pictures I have for this week, but it’s not the end of the pictures in the file.
“What else have you got?” you ask.
Well, this is my first attempt at a French braid! My cute little redheaded sister can French braid her own hair like a pro, while I’m over here making uneven sections and hoping for the best. I guess it's like anything else, though, and takes practice.
“What do you think?” I asked my handsome mountain man.
He looked and grunted, “Uh-huh.”
Getting anything out of him concerning the way I look is like pulling teeth.
“Do you like it? Do you don’t?” No response. “For heaven’s sake! If you don’t like it — say so!”
“It kinda defeats the purpose of having curly hair, doesn’t it?” he said.
I don’t feel like doing my hair every day. In the morning I have to spray it and scrunch it to bring back the curls and if I’m not going anywhere, I don’t see the point in wasting my time fooling with it. Today I’m back to a ponytail.
“Did you paint this week?” you ask.
I did, but not a lot. I finished the ghost dog and put him, along with his companion ghost cat, in the mail for my patron, California Susan.
I have two more pieces to do before I move on to a story I want to write then maybe I’ll do a few Christmas cards.
Raini and I went out and took a sunrise picture for you.
With that, let’s call this one done!
Done!
