The Fudge Chronicles

If my new nutritionist sees this I am going to get a lecture so don't post this to your Facebook page.  I am not even going to mention this lapse in my food diary.  I know, I am only cheating myself, but who wants to live without sugar?  Or alcohol for that matter.  Better yet, sugary alcoholic drinks.  Okay, full disclosure; I just ate a piece of fudge.  I feel like Hunter Thompson.  But instead of LSD, I am high on sugar.  And my ramblings are more gawky than gonzo.  Plus I am way to frangible (look it up) to ever have ridden a Harley.  Emily Dickinson then.  I only say this because I can think of many macho and robust male writers but I can't think of one fragile male writer.  I did think of Truman Capote but "In Cold Blood" affirms that one should not conflate homosexuality with a lack of machismo.

Back to the fudge.  I have not had a cookie, a Tastycake, an M&M, not even a jelly bean in four weeks.  I had one Werther's Original the other day.  But hard candies are like time release cold medication.  Designed to spread their effect over the course of an entire day.  By the way, Werther's is not butterscotch so don't ever ask me if I would like a butterscotch and then hand me a Werther's Original.  That's like ordering New York style cheesecake in South Philly and they bring you some facsimile made with ricotta cheese instead of all cream cheese.  This has actually happened to me.  Well, I just looked it up and Wikipedia says that Werther's Originals are butterscotch.  The poor man's butterscotch perhaps.  My mom always bought me Callard and Bowser Butterscotch.  Alas they are no more.  Bought out by Cadbury.  Now familiar to you only because of Altoids. 

Oh, the fudge, right.  My favorite variety store here in Phoenicia is now selling fudge personally made by the proprietor in her ice cream shop next door.  She has installed a nice display case with the fudge laid out like great slabs of marble.  There are flavors like praline, maple walnut, penuche (?), rocky road, and cookies and cream.  All traditional flavors, no doubt, that one has always found on the boardwalk in Ocean City.  But I noticed something about my escalated enthusiasm for it here in the Catskill Mountains.  While I have been visiting the shore and strolling the boards, I never felt any interest in the myriad displays of fudge.  Perhaps my increased awareness is because I have not had a confectionery treat in a month.  But I think it is more because of the setting.  Eating fudge in the summer, on the boardwalk, while wearing a bathing suit, in ninety degree heat doesn't seem like such a great plan.  Water ice makes more sense at the shore, except for the obvious melting dilemma.  Fudge is more appropriate in the mountains, in cool weather, when a down jacket prevents one from casually seeing their love handles when glancing down.

That's it.  I just wanted to figure out why I ate the fudge in Phoenicia and not in Ocean City.