Stirring Up Trouble

I was finally able to shake and bake a couple of chops the other day. Bob had picked them up at a newly opened butcher shop in town.

I hobbled around and managed that fine meal with some of the Schwann man's frozen corn. Sadly the last of the sweet corn is now gone. 

While things were roasting I was back in my recliner with my foot up when out of the blue I had a sudden hunger for my dad's peanut butter fudge. 

I don't care for most fudge, it's just too sweet, but my dad used to make the best peanut butter fudge. He made it in an old cast iron skillet. I can still see him stirring that golden goodness around in the heavy skillet. 

I don't think he ever had to test it to see when it was done, he just knew. 

We could barely wait until it had time to set. 

This recipe might be close.

Dad always made a complete mess whenever he cooked. And he never bothered to clean anything up. 

We all still remember Mom coming home one day when Dad had made his peanut butter fudge, but decided to ice a cake with it. 

It wasn't just the mess he made, it was that he put the cake directly onto the counter and then poured on the peanut butter fudge icing. She was furious, but the cake was delicious. We kids didn't mind scraping our piece of cake off the counter, instead of a cake plate. 

I think that was probably a bigger mess than when he went to boil about a half dozen eggs. We had had our first microwave about a week, when he figured that the eggs would boil a lot quicker in the microwave. 

Within about a minute, eggs covered the entire microwave. 

It's been over 21 years, but man I still miss him.  

And his peanut butter fudge.