Drunken Fudge and a frustrated Suzie Homaker

Yesterday at my water aerobics class, one of the women brought in some Bailey's Irish Cream Fudge. It was to die for. During the break, (cause even though it's only a 50 minute class, we're old and tired and need a break), some of the women waded over to the side of the pool to taste the fudge. I have to admit, there DID seem like something was wrong with that picture - eating fudge during aerobics - but hey - they needed their strength! (I had a piece of fudge AFTER the class.)

Here is the recipe. It makes a shitload. (Pardon my French, but that's the best way to describe it.)

Bailey’s Irish Cream Fudge

This is an “adults only” fudge.

4 ½ cups granulated sugar
1 (12 ounce) can evaporated milk
½ pound butter
2 (12 ounce) packages milk chocolate chips
1 (12 ounce) package semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 (7 ounce) jars Marshmallow crème
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2/3 cup Bailey’s Irish Cream
2 cups chopped nuts

Follow directions EXACTLY.

Set chocolate chips, marshmallow crème, vanilla extract, Bailey’s and nuts in a very large bowl. Set aside for later.

Bring butter, sugar and milk to a boil and then cook slowly for exactly 11 minutes, stirring constantly. Pour milk mixture over the other ingredients and stir slowly to blend. Do NOT use a mixer. Pour into a buttered 13 x 9 pan and an 8” x 8” pan and chill very well. Cut when cold.

So, I decided to make this fudge and give it away for little gifts to all my friends here in AZ, along with my Christmas card. Now remember I am working in a tiny kitchen, so feel my pain, okay?

I followed the first step and put it into a huge plastic bowl. Did you ever try to get Marshmallow creme out of a jar? Not an easy task, I tell ya! But I got that done and set it aside. And who's says the cook can't have a little glass of Bailey's while she's cooking, right? No rule against it!

I melted my butter in the microwave first before pouring it into the pot with the mounds of sugar and milk. Then you are supposed to stir constantly, wait for it to boil, and stir it for EXACTLY 11 minutes. It takes at least a couple of minutes for the concoction to begin to boil. I do not have a kitchen timer, so I yell out to my husband to give me 11 minutes on his watch. It has a stop watch. I hear beep, beep, beep as he sets it up. I also hear Tina Turner belting out a song in the background. It seems that while Jim was flipping channels, he came across an old concert of hers that had been broadcast live from Amsterdam. This could only mean trouble. My husband absolutely LOVES Tina. Her long, muscular legs to be exact.

Meanwhile, little Suzie Homemaker is busy stirring the fudge in the tiny kitchen.

I yell out, "What's the time?"

No response.

"Uh, hello?" I yell. "Can you tear your eyes away from Tina for one minute to look at your damn watch?!"

"7 minutes, 34 seconds!" he says.

I continue stirring.

Then it dawns on me. I have to pour all this hot mixture into the other mixture that is sitting in a plastic bowl. That can only spell disaster, right? I can just picture the plastic melting and all the ingredients oozing out all over the counter and floor, and all this expensive stuff going to waste.

So AGAIN I yell to my husband. "Hey! Can you come here for a minute? I need your help!"

"What!" He snarls at me!

"Can you PLEASE tear yourself away from TINA for ONE MINUTE and come here?"

I hear him let out a big sigh and he stomps into the kitchen.

"What do you want?"

"I can't stop stirring this fudge. After this is done I have to pour it into that other mixture and I'm afraid it will melt the bowl. So I need you to pour THAT mixture into a big pot. Can you do that please?" I ask, stirring the fudge and batting my eyes.

He begrudgingly does what I asks and goes back to Tina. I continue stirring, but take the plastic bowl and turn it upside down over the pot to get every last drop of the Bailey's cream that is sitting on the bottom. Don't want to waste a drop!

"Time?" I yell.

"10 minutes, 34 seconds, 40, 50, TIME!!"

I quick take the golden liquid off the flame, pour it into the large pot, mix up the wonderful concoction that is wafting orgasmic smells from that pot. Now I have another dilemma. I need a couple of hands to hold the large pot so I can help spoon the fudge into the appropriate pans. Dare I ask for help again?

"Uh, hon?" I say sweetly. "Can you come here again?"


"Please hold this pot so I can spoon the fudge out."

We get the job done. I even volunteer to let him lick the spoon. He refuses. I don't know if he was just being stubborn or what. Who cares? His loss....my gain. Slurp!

P.S. I would have taken pictures of the step by step process of making this fudge, but you can see that there is no stopping while making this.

P.S.S. No husbands were hurt while making this fudge.

P.S.S.S. This is what the husband was watching.

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