Aunt Iris' penuche — brown sugar fudge that makes one sweet gift
My Aunt Iris was an independent woman long before it was fashionable.
Born in 1907, she was one of eight siblings, six of them girls. My mom, who was born 16 years later, was always her "kid sister."
Iris spent most of her working life as a telephone operator, just like the ones in the movies, wearing a headset and plugging and unplugging cables, answering peoples' questions and, in my mind anyway, occasionally listening in.
She was married twice but she outlived them both and ended up spending much of her life living alone.
Sometimes, I would spend the weekend at her house. I remember being pretty impressed by how she managed by herself. One weekend, we went to the store and bought a new living room set, a couch and a chair, just like that. It was amazing. At my house, this action would have been preceded by months of discussion and deliberation, penny-pinching and scheming to get the right one at the right price. And there we were, just going to the store and picking one out on an ordinary Saturday afternoon. It made me think that perhaps there was something to this making-your-own-way thing.
When she died, I inherited her recipe box, a two-compartment wooden case full of cards labeled "easy" this and "simple" that and a couple of "miracle" dishes, all promising to be fast and delicious. She was a good cook and she loved to entertain, but the food I most associate with her is penuche, a brown sugar fudge she made at Christmas every year. With a butterscotch and subtle maple flavor, it's so decadently sweet, really just a lump of sugar studded with toasty walnuts, but it's so delicious. A small box of it makes a lovely, unique gift.
The recipe, in her handwriting, is titled "My Penuche," and it's pretty vague. It calls for a can of evaporated milk and a jar of marshmallow cream, but doesn't indicate what size. Over the years, I've zeroed in on the formula, but fudge is finicky.
Be sure to get the bubbling mixture up to the soft ball stage, 235 degrees. Any less and it won't set. It's better to a bit too high than a bit too low.
Also, you've got to beat the mixture constantly as it cools. It's great to make it on a cold day so you can take it outside and set the pan on the chilly — or better yet, snow-covered — picnic table where it will cool quickly, but not too quickly, as you stir and beat, switching hands until you think your arms are about to fall off. Of course, you can stay inside and use an ice bath, but be careful. If it cools too quickly it can harden in the pan.
Later on, when you're cutting the fudge into perfect squares, save any scraps or oddly shaped bits not good enough to serve. My mother would smash and spread these onto a piece of buttered toast for a sweet way to start the day.
Enjoy!
Jill Blanchette is the multiplatform production editor at The Day. Share comments and recipes with her at j.blanchette@theday.com.
Aunt Iris' Penuche
1 pound light brown sugar
1 pound granulated white sugar
1 12-ounce can of evaporated milk
1 7.5-ounce jar of Marshmallow Fluff
2 tablespoons butter
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup coarsely chopped walnuts
Prepare a square baking pan by lining it with two lengths of parchment paper so that the paper covers the bottom and extends up the sides of the pan. This will allow you to grab the paper on the sides and lift the fudge out of the pan after it hardens.
In a large saucepan, mix the brown and white sugars with the evaporated milk and bring to a boil, stirring until well combined. Boil the mixture, stirring occasionally, until it reaches the soft ball stage, 235 degrees. Better to go slightly over than slightly under.
Remove from the heat and add the marshmallow, butter, vanilla and walnuts. Stir to combine. Either take the pan outside and set it on a cool picnic table or set the pan over a bowl of ice water and stir constantly with a wooden spoon until the mixture cools and thickens. Don't let it harden in the pan, but you want it to cool nearly that far. As the fudge thickens, stir more vigorously so that you're practically beating it to keep it smooth. Just before you think your arm is going to fall off, pour the warm, thick fudge into the prepared pan.
Let sit until cool and firm, either on the counter or in the refrigerator. Cut into squares. Line a decorative tin with waxed paper and pack the penuche into the tin between layers of waxed paper.
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