Toilet Fudge

I travel a lot, and I like to cook. For several years, with the living-in-hotel-rooms component of my job, i had limited opportunities to cook. So, whenever I went home, back to MN for Christmas, I was very excited to do some holiday cooking.

I was at my sister's apartment, just a couple days before the holiday, and we really wanted to make some fudge. We had a recipe, which has produced some great confections in the past, but what we didn't have was an appropriately stocked kitchen. My sister has never been one for cooking and had just done an apartment purge. No double-boiler, to be sure, but really, she had almost nothing to cook with. There was one large glass kettle and her fondue pot.

I try to be industrious. I thought, really, what's the difference between a double-boiler and a small kettle, boiling in a larger one? My sister was in the other room, and i wanted to be creative. And more importantly, I wanted some fudge.  So, I started the water to boil in the big glass kettle and put all the fudge-fixin's in the fondue pot. I set the fondue pot on the ledge of the boiler, stirring the chocolate chips and marshmallows, waiting patiently for the melting to begin. It had just started to look like a pre-fudgey liquid and then the fondue pot fell into the boiling water. "Whoops," I said. This was my sister's first clue that i was doing anything unusual in her kitchen. I didn't elaborate.

It didn't just fall into the water, it promptly sunk to the bottom of the lake. The fudge was ruined, and all our ingredients were used up.  Merde! I was also embarrassed. I fancy myself quite the domestic goddess, so I was ashamed at how horribly awry this experiment had gone. I couldn't just throw the mess away; she'd see that.  A garbage disposal would have been an easy way to dispose of my dirty little secret; but this apartment was ill-equipped. Ugh, what other option did I have?

Yeah, I walked the kettle of hot liquid into the bathroom. When things go amuck, what better place to dispose of food that you can't eat than down the loo, right? Its usually the best course of action . . . but I forgot one tiny little detail. Hot marshmallows, cold, cold water. Marshmallows congeal. Who knew?  So, I had to clean it out and come clean.  Ugh.

So, yeah, failed kitchen experiment. Its important to share your failures, right? So, no fudge for us that day. Or, since, for me. Maybe I should remedy that this weekend.