Just on the cusp with Feces

A quick trip down memory lane: my grandmother Totsy was famous for two things (besides avoiding shoplifting convictions, that is): first, her inability to admit she might be wrong, and second, her conviction that they way she pronounced any word was correct, be it French, which she didn't speak, or English, which was her second language, or even Czech, which was her home language as a child. This lead to some interesting comments, such as "They looked at me as if I was a LEAPER," and my favorite, "Well, astrology is very mod now, isn't it, and I think I have a house in Feces." That's what I think of when things go to pot, that the moon is in Feces, and will come back to some state of normalcy before long.

I am awful sometimes

I am awful sometimes, and looking back through my blog I can see where I have been harsh, unjust, and unfair, not to mention a crappy typist. (I actually spell quite well.) One of my posts turned my mother off reading my blog forever, which is not a bad thing in of itself but her feelings were terribly hurt, which is rotten. I've also posted about someone else, also in harsh terms, but every word was true. At what point do we stop "poking fun"  and just turn into bitches?

On the other hand, I had a massive amount of crap dumped on me this year--much of which I cannot go into--and I DIDN'T complain about that, although perhaps I will. I'm at the crossroads with a job (note that I didn't say career) and the best I can think of to do is to render myself silly with OTC sleeping aids so I can get one night's rest as my acupuncturist is out of town and it's only after a session with the needles that I can get in more than three hours' sleep. I hate worrying about jobs, and money, and all that: gone are the days when I could focus on doing a great job in the classroom or the boardroom and to hell with the personal drama and the cutthroat corporate world. You know what I miss? The days when all I had to worry about was getting to rehearsal on time and looking cute. Youth is a drug, and we are all addicts, fondly reminiscing about past highs.

Oh, Fudge! My Only Threesome

Here are three quick and easy fudge recipes. Even if you're cooking on a hot plate, you can manage at least one of them. Notice that none contain peanuts, as Baby Girl is allergic to them, and none are at all healthy. Sometimes you just have to make fudge, and Christmas is just one of those times.

Number One:

Take a can of sweetened condensed milk. Any brand. Even that Panda type will do. Pour into a small sauce pan and bring to a boil over low heat, stirring constantly to prevent scorching. As soon as it has boiled for one minute (a full boil, not just bubbles at the side of the pan) take it off the heat, dump in either a bag of chocolate chips (the ones you got two-for-one at April Gourmet because they were so old they were grey) or six cut-up Dove bars (not the tiny ones not the big ones) and beat until the chocolate is melted. Add a teaspoon of vanilla, or brandy, if you have it, then pour quickly into a pan. Tupperware is fine, especially if it's not new and has the greasy sheen to it. A regular metal pan is also good, especially if you're greased it with butter first. You can also pour onto a slab of aluminum foil. Like all fudge, this will dry out quickly in the low humidity of a China winter, so keep it well covered at all times.

Even better with nuts in it.

Second one:

2 cups sugar (I use a mix of brown and white), stirred with a half-cup of cocoa until all lumps are gone. Add 2/3 cup milk, dash of salt, 2 tablespoons of corn syrup (not strictly necessary but makes a huge different in final product.) Allow this to sit somewhere for an hour or two until the sugar has dissolved. Heat gently in a saucepan. You can use a candy thermometer to check the temperature, which should come to soft ball, or you can simply check to see if it's at that stage by dropping a small amount into cold water: if you can pick up the lump with your fingers and roll it into a small ball which more or less keeps its shape, it's ready to go off the burner. Some cooks advocate stirring gently while it's bubbling to prevent scorching, some do not. Some cover the pan with a lid to help the steam wash down any sugar crystals that have formed. I caution you to remember this is frickin' hot AND you are dealing with sugar crystallization so don't slosh the pan around. Let the fudge cool until you can put your hand on the bottom of the pan and hold it briefly without crying. Then add a lump of butter--oh, say three tablespoons--and a slosh of vanilla or bourbon, then beat the crap out of it until it suddenly begins to get thick and lose its gloss. Pour immediately into a pan. If you want nuts, add with the butter so they have a chance to leak some of their delicious oil into the fudge, thus enhancing the flavor. If you've done everything right, you will have a smooth and creamy fudge with an intense flavor. If you messed up, a grainy mess is the result. I went through a lot of grainy batches of fudge before I finally learned not to stir it until it had cooled off. Other teenagers experimented with boys, I was locked in an affair with Hershey's cocoa and sugar. Sigh.

Third recipe: Look at the label of any brand of Marshmallow Fluff. It's basically the second fudge recipe, without the cocoa added in the first step, and with a bag of chocolate chips and a jar of Fluff added after it's taken off the burner. This recipe yields a massive amount of fudge which turns out perfectly most of the time. For no-fail fudge, try the first one. The second one is for perfectionists who won't touch anything with egg in it (which most Marshmallow Fluff contains) and if you want, you can actually make vegan fudge with the second recipe, substituting water for the milk, and vegan butter for the butter. Most of the vegans I know need a good feeding (as well as a wash--sorry, but it's true) so I will make a vegan batch for anyone who cares as much about animals as they do.

I am also getting a pet for my guinea pig, as they shouldn't be alone and I don't have enough time to play with her as much as she would like, but that's another story. She's also going to the groomer--damn the person who decided long-haired guinea pigs were good pets!--and it was very hard to find a groomer who would take on a guinea pig. I might post pictures, but only if it won't hurt Squeaky's pride. I know I would not want someone taking pictures of me while I was straddled over a bowl of warm water, freaking out in the hands of a stranger.