Homemade Fudge vs. The Scientist

You'd think someone who took two years of chemistry labs in college could make sugar crystals.� That's all fudge is - a special type of flavored sugar crystals.� Yet this simple task, mastered by thousands of women and bakers around the world, continues to elude me.�

I follow the protocol, I mean recipe.� I've read an essay on fudge by a chemist who explains what each ingredient and step are for.� I put in both cream of tartar and corn syrup to reduce graininess.� I delicately wash the sugar crystals down the insides of the pan with a clean pastry brush.�� I don't stir the mixture after it's come to a boil.� I use both a candy thermometer and the soft ball test to decide when to stop cooking.� I cool it slowly, just to lukewarm, without stirring.� Then comes the dreaded instruction:� "Beat till fudge becomes very thick and starts to lose its gloss."� This is where I start to lose my mind.

Invariably, my fudge either remains as a sticky syrup, or turns, almost instantly, from shiny goo to dull chocolate rock.� Where is that magical point where it's thick and creamy?� Did I beat for five seconds too long?� Is it that sensitive?

One day, I succeeded.� The fudge gradually lost its gloss and started to thicken.� It stayed creamy.� At last, the instructions made sense.� It was delicious.� I was triumphant.� I had mastered fudge.� Brimming with confidence, I made fudge again a few months later, and . . . it turned into a dull chocolate rock.�

I haven't made fudge since.