Ravelry Blog Ring Thingy-Ma-Bob: Comfort Foods

So this is the first post ever and it is dedicated to comfort foods. More on why it is dedicated so in a later post. Anyhooligans, off we go.

I don't have a recipe to share but rather memories of recipes and why they comfort me. I am 25 years old (26 come April)and not the mot wonderful cook in the world but an okay one. What i remember the most is my dad's peanut butter fudge. (Said fudge is actually a family recipe from my grandfather's mother on dad's side.) While the fudge itself isn't actually important, it sticks out the most n my mind. the making of the fudge is quite complicated, involving a candy thermometer, perfect temperature, a rolled sugar ball. It was always tense and quiet in the kitchen as we waited for the sugar to come to temp and for dad to grab that all fated spoon. He'd dip it in the boiling sugar and make sure the drop that he dropped into the jar of cold water rolled just right. Then it was a mad house. The rush for the cups of pre-measured peanut butter, the held breath waiting for exhalation, all these things are what i remember the most. The anticipation in his face, as though he were taking the hardest test in the world, I used to think that he was trying so hard to be perfect in his candy making skills. But what I realized, years later of course, was that he teaching me that anything worth doing was worth doing right. And every time I screw up, I remember him making candy, most of the time getting it right, sometimes getting it wrong, but always proud of the results and willing to share with us, his daughters.
He's still very much alive. I see him about three times a week because he takes me to church on Sundays and Wednesdays. I always wonder if he remembers those candy making days, if he remembers my sister and I awaiting those first pieces off his candy platter. I wonder, too, if he knows how much I miss him. Not just his candy, but him. I always thought he was being mean to me when he talked to me, but now I realize he just had problems communicating with me. In a way he made me tougher, tough enough to be a mom to two very active boys!
All in all, there's no fudge like daddy's fudge. I've tasted literally thousands (one is never enough) of different pieces of fudge in my short lifetime. None of them come close to the heavenly taste that still lingers in my mind--none of them.
So this one goes out to dad--and out to all ya'll tryin to teach your kids something good--thanks for the lessons, but most of all thanks for the best tasting peanut butter fudge in the world!