There’s something about tin roof ice cream that is decidedly adult.
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I’m not much of a sweets eater.

Given the choice between sweet and savory, I’ll choose savory every time. For dessert, I’d rather just have another cocktail.
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There was a time when I thought nothing of eating a few cookies in one sitting. And then topped it off with a Dr. Pepper. Ah…those were the days.

A and I used to have this chocolate chip cookie obsession. It started the Summer before we left for college. We’d get together at my house or his and bake cookies together. It was one of those things you do in the early stages of a relationship. You know…when you can get your guy to do anything with you. Paint your toenails, make homemade candles with you, listen to all of your old sappy girl music. Just as a for instance.

Our obsession lasted a good while. When we’d come home to visit, we’d bake double batches of cookies and load them up in huge tupperware to bring back to our dorm rooms. We’d eat a few each day. With gallons of Dr. Pepper. And share a large pizza–just the two of us. And each eat a pint of Ben & Jerry’s. Gotta love a teenager’s metabolism.
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Fudge has been a Christmas staple for as long as I can remember.

Plates of fudge and Mexican wedding cakes were in every family member’s house I visited as a kid. When my parents got married, that must have been one of my dad’s stipulations–you will learn to make my family’s fudge and Mexican wedding cakes and have plates of them sitting out at Christmas.

The best part about fudge at Christmas wasn’t eating it–it was being around when it was made. At Grandma’s, anyone who was around got a turn to stir the fudge. Grandma did the measuring and the mixing and then she’d bring you a towel to place in your lap since the bowl was still pretty warm. If you were little and not so strong, you got one of the early turns. As it got tougher to stir, the towel and bowl would be passed off to an uncle or Dad or Grandpa. When the fudge was finally thick and almost impossible to stir, everyone would get a spoon before Grandma put the fudge in the pan. It was one of those rituals you don’t think is significant at the time, but ends up being a big part of what Christmas is all about.

Because of that, it almost makes me sad that I’ve deleted that step from my own fudge preparation. You see, I have this handy dandy kitchen gadget that eliminates the need for fudge stirrers. The first time I made fudge in my Kitchenaid mixer, I reveled at the fact that I could now make fudge and not have a sore arm for the next few days. It’s amazing, really. Especially since I don’t have a house full of available fudge stirrers. But, maybe one day…

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I don’t get Black Friday.

I mean, do people actually enjoy camping out for hours on end, shopping elbow to elbow with other aggressive shoppers just to save a few extra dollars on that new kitchen appliance they didn’t even know they needed until they saw it advertised in a Black Friday ad?

Don’t get me wrong. I love to shop. Black Friday just doesn’t seem like shopping to me. It’s more like one of those battles the Romans used to have in the coliseum–a fight to the death for a…video game. Seriously??
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