Mother/Mom's Fudge

Half of our half dozen call her Mother; the other half call her Mom. That's what happens when there's a generation span between the oldest and youngest. Big brother Mike will turn 61 this year, while little brother Jim is headed toward 42. Batch One includes Mike, Kevin and Marianne. Barbara, Laurie and Jim make up Batch Two.

That means our little mother/mom is old (83), but only chronologically. She still makes the best fudge in the area, with the exception of that lady at Yoke's who specializes in winning the Winter Carnival Fudge-o-Rama every year. I think she whips up several varieties to increase her chances. Our mother/mom enters just one.

Mother/Mom took third place two years ago, and she's hoping to finish in the top round this year after adding pecans and almonds to the mix. She's won first place among our family members for as long as I can remember.

Yesterday while taking her a check from Seventh Heaven in the Bonner Mall, where she still successfully markets her beautiful Western artwork, I arrived just in time for her to be cutting the fudge. Most was destined for a box, destined for the big annual contest at Foster's Crossing tomorrow.

She wanted to make sure her entry was all prepared and ready to go because today will be spent getting better acquainted with her youngest great-grandchild, Miss Aggie Sue Brown from Anchorage, who joined the clan on Sept. 9. Aggie and her parents, Scott and JJ, will spend the afternoon at Mother/Mom's.

Besides its competitive nature, the local Fudge-o-Rama helps support the Panhandle Animal Shelter. Fudge lovers can select three pieces from dozens of entries for a dollar. So, if any readers head for Sandpoint, be sure to drop by Foster's on Saturday.

While Mother/Mom carefully cut small squares of her chocolate delights to put in the contest box, she assured me there'd be extras. Keeping my diet in mind, I remained strong and patient as I watched her carefully force that long knive into the big chocolate block and chop off another row. Finally, she said, "Have one."

The almonds and pecans have definitely added the frosting to the fudge, which is as scrumptious as ever. I limited myself to two pieces and left the house, knowing if I stayed longer my diet discipline would weaken.

Mother/Mom's fudge reminds me of decades ago during the Pre-Batch Two Era. After dinner on cold winter nights, we'd sit in the living room---Harold in his easy chair, Mother/Mom at the west end of the couch, my brothers and I squashed along its remainder---watching "Cheyenne" or "Gunsmoke."

At commercial break, Mother/Mom would ask, "Who wants some fudge?"

As if, we'd ever answer, "Not I."

She'd go to the refrigerator, bring out the chocolate block wrapped in aluminum foil, cut enough chunks for everyone to have two pieces. The plate was passed. Our palettes existed in temporary ecstasy as we slowly bit off small portions to make that chocolate delight last as we watched the rest of the program.

Those were deliciously good times.