Seriously, though, I cannot overstate how bad things got with the fudge. I think the sugar affected me even more than usual because of all the stupid vegetables I’ve been eating of late. That’s right, Vegetables, I’m blaming you. Based on my recent behavior, I think it’s safe to say I should never, ever have even a single forbidden taste of the sweet, sweet cocaine.
In the end, dear readers, it was you who helped me to break that vicious cycle. Care to know how? By suggesting that I make halva, an Indian fudge-like confection made of pumpkin. After reading that comment, I practically flung myself down the stairs because my legs weren’t transporting me to the kitchen fast enough. I love fudge, you see (did I mention that?). And, as luck would have it, I had three pumpkins at my disposal.
Long story short (and I mean a very long story with profanity written in all caps), I hated it. HATED. IT. I was clawing at my face, trying to scrape all remnants of it off my tongue, much like the Toddler does with just about everything. I’m disappointed, too, because I’m pretty sure that Madhur Jaffrey isn’t going to want to be Facebook friends with me now, even though I love practically everything else in the Indian culinary repertoire. Just please, for the love of god, no more vegetables in my fudge.
So, to thank you for getting that monkey off my back so decisively, here’s that penuche recipe a few of you requested. Good luck. I’ll see you in rehab round about next year.