Edible Memoir

Live Cultures. Extra yummy in mine and your tummy. One of my notable Netflix binges, The Great British Bake Off, revealed my next challenge, the introduction of live cultures to baking, particularly, Buttermilk. Subsequent to my nearly unhealthy Netflix binge, I delight in perusing through recipes and cooking websites, like one of my favorite, Bon Appétit. On their website, I found a list of Buttermilk recipes, one of which was this Buttermilk Pecan Fudge recipe, (I am not affiliated with the aforementioned website or recipe). It seemed like a recipe catered specifically to my chocolate averse tastebuds, seemed seems like the operative word here. What follows is my interpretation and recreation of a recipe inspired by those endlessly, creative chefs at Bon Appétit.

Buttermilk is legitimately difficult to find, in the grocery store, unless you’re sincerely searching for it. Disguised in plain sight, it quite plainly is. Following my short, extremely short, not kidding, how short grocery trip errand, (I refuse to admit or give into peer pressure, as a cook coming into her own, I feel obligated to enjoy visiting the grocery store, but I just can’t, I usually get in and out within ten minutes, even despite the length of the grocery list), I popped open the buttermilk bottle and I smelled it. I smelled the buttermilk, which didn’t really have the appetizing smell usually attached to edible items, but I fudged along. The aforementioned recipe called for, a hand-mixer, and asked you to pull out your handy dandy candy thermometer. But if you’re like me, you don’t own the a menagerie of kitchen instruments, thus my first trip up the spiral, staircase, was just guesstimating the correct temperature instead of a machine with a mathematical aptitude higher than mine, but more on that in a moment.

(In)Edible Elements

I was able to pour the contents into a large ramiken — how many it could serve depends on the edibility of the finished product and the sugar tooth of your guests

• Pecans – a handful … and a half
• Sugar – granulated, I only added about 1/2 -1 cup
• Buttermilk – 1 cup
• Butter – 1 1/4 cup
• Honey – about 2 tbsp , BeeKing’s Raw Honey – Wildflower, a local brand from Puyallup, (I am not affiliated with this brand in any way, despite having a great love of all honey and completely supporting the cause of saving the bees)
• Salt – a pinch

For the pecans, you can’t really mess too much with the elemental properties of the nut, I did however add more nuts than necessary, whatever necessary means, with a little more than one cup of nuts, I love my nuts. Sugar, you guessed it, I halved the recipe, which had called for two cups, so I believe I might have put slightly less than one cup into the fudge. The buttermilk, the staple of the recipe, the lynchpin of this fudge, I didn’t bother changing, one cup. Butter, oh merciful butter gods, I added a little bit more than the recipe called for, just for a heftier offering to said butter gods, probably close to a stick and a quarter, salted, unsalted, do what makes you happy, just balance the additional salt later. Also, the title of the dish literally has Butter in the name, and I thought, what’s the harm? Ah the honey, stole a bit of license with this one, strayed away from the basic honey, and delved into the rock n’roll world of wildflower honey, which I happened to have a jar of sitting in my pantry for oh such an occasions as this, dolloped about a two healthy tablespoons worth. Well and the salt, not much to say but just do it or don’t, I’m not your boss.

I tried my darnedest to stick to the recipe, but I was re-watching that episode of The Great British Bake-off, or is it Baking Show, either way, those contestants just inspire me to follow my own fudging path.

In the preheated oven, I toasted those pecan nuts until they had a pleasant, golden brown, laying out on a yacht off of the Amalfi coast (golly I miss Italy), kind of tan. Cool, chop, and collect 30 points for actually following the first step of the recipe.

Basically throw all of the other ingredients, minus those prize winning nuts, into a medium sauce pan. This was were things became a bit sticky. I’m supposed to melt all the components together, and then with my non-existent candy thermometer, measure 238°, and there is no mention of Celsius or Fahrenheit, and my American educated brain immediately went to Fahrenheit, but my wannabe worldly point of view thought, no Celsius. As a happy medium, or because 1) I don’t own a candy thermometer, and 2) the recipe provided a broad time range for simmering the fudge, I forwent the temperature reading and dove straight into the guesstimation whirlpool. Apparently six to eight minutes does the sticky trick, and I thought, a woman (the recipe’s curator’s name is Alison, I went with the most likely, and possibly very politically incorrect pronoun, but life’s a crapshoot) after my own heart. I flared my nostrils searching for that faint toffee scent, (I assumed I was searching for somewhere in the realm of caramel flavor and texture since I believe the two desserts are cousins), and squinted my eye’s, striaining to see that subtle “pale golden” color. Fifteen minutes later, stirred into a frustrated state, I called it good, and moved on to the next step.

I poured my semi-golden, buttermilk, non-toffee smelling motley, conglomeration, into a large stand alone bowl and as previously mentioned, with my hand-mixer, I whipped my hodgepodge for the recommended five to eight minutes, it was probably close to eight minutes, anything really to improve my aspiring fudge. I wanted that matte finish and I wanted that thick texture, but alas, it wasn’t meant to be. Innumerable seconds, minutes, hours later, my fudge was not matte and it was not thick, but I still folded in the pecans, I still poured it into a wax-paper lined ramekin, and I still sprinkled Himalayan salt atop my faux fudge, because fudge it, one needs to follow a task to the failed end. Ultimately, I found out I don’t enjoy fudge of the Buttermilk variety, I already know the chocolate variety is a toss up, so is there a fudge out there that will actually live up to its fudgtastical reputation?

Overall, it was an experience, an experience probably better had at any other time of night than two in the morning, but oh well, and thankfully there was still a majority of the Buttermilk leftover for the following chapters. I’m a Buttermilk bottle half-full kind of gal. On to the next challenge in this Le Conte de Buttermilk. Fin.

Citation

Roman, Alison, “Pecan Buttermilk Fudge”, Bon Appétit, February 18, 2014. March 19, 2021. https://www.bonappetit.com/recipe/pecan-buttermilk-fudge