Yuletide Traditions: Mimi's fudge

My second Christmas as a married woman marked my first one away from home.

And while I loved being a part of new traditions with Scott's side of the family (like how each person opens their gifts one-at-a-time for everyone to watch and not in an every-man-for-himself fury of paper and ribbon like mine) I found myself searching replacements for what I would be missing out on by not being with my family.

There was one thing that despite my best attempts proved irreplaceable.

The joy of family? The smile on my young cousins' faces? The warmth of being home?

No.

It was my Mimi's fudge.

The top layer is mine. The bottom layer is also mine. If there's a third layer, you can bet it's mine, too.

I know it seems an incredibly shallow (and caloric) thing to say. That Christmas I found myself eating a lot of fudge made by a lot of people, and none of it measured up to Mimi's. Some had nuts. Some was too dry. Some was too chewy. Some was just plain nasty. (I think some was made with Sweet 'n Low. Yuck.) It just wasn't the same.

At Christmastime, I remember searching Mimi's pantry for one thing — the plaid tin wherein lay layers of small, rich, chocolaty squares separated by plastic wrap. One piece found its way onto my plate, then two and, when no one was looking, number three. There are few things that her fudge can't cure when accompanied by a big glass of milk in her living room.

What makes hers my favorite is definitely who makes it, where I am when I have it, and those I have to fight for the last piece. If warmth and love are the feelings of Christmas, the squeals of delight are the sounds, and the sights are of your family members' faces lighting up as they open a gift or the lights on the tree, then Mimi's fudge is the taste of Christmas. Missing out on that was one more reminder that things were going to be a little different from now on.

Since then, Mimi has made and frozen my own tin of fudge before Thanksgiving so that I might have that little piece of home regardless of where I might be spending Christmas. The best part is that now I don't have to share.