Michael Imber - The Last Batch of Fudge

 

 

All set? A simple recipe, Hershey's Cocoa, sugar, vanilla extract, Karo syrup, a pinch of salt heated to perfection, poured into a pan and then cooled in an ice water bath. This was my grandmother Millie's recipe for fudge. Fights would break out at family gatherings in St. Louis if anybody dared to take more than their fair share. This was no ordinary recipe. 

 

When the grandchildren all left for college, Nana would make batches of fudge and package them up in old Russell Stover candy boxes and mail them to us. The recipient of the latest batch of fudge would lay claim to the title The Real Angel Boy or The Real Angel Girl, which was her nickname for all of us. But we held it as the moniker for the most favored grandchildren. 

 

I was always close to my grandmother, but all the more so after my father passed when I was 10 years old. She was just a rock for my mother and for my siblings and me. When I left for college, I made a point of calling her every Sunday night. When I moved to New York, I continued that tradition, and I was so happy that she was able to walk down the aisle at my wedding. 

 

In the winter before Nana's 79th birthday, she suffered a transient ischemic attack, a mini stroke. The emergency room doctors said it was so mild, there was nothing they could do. They just told her, go home and rest. My brother Doug and my cousin Teddy were with her at the time, and they drove her back to her apartment. They arrived about midnight, and Nana said, “I'm wide awake. What do we do now?” The boys looked at each other and they said, “Nana, make fudge.” And so, she did. 

 

The next day, my brother calls me and he tells me about Nana's health scare and the story of the fudge. While he wished Nana many more years of life, he did remark that he and Teddy easily could have had the last batch of fudge [audience laughter] and lay claim to the title Angel Boy forever. [audience laughter] 

 

About a month later, I get in the mail a package in the size and shape of that familiar Russell Stover candy box, postmarked from St. Louis, but no return address. When I opened it up, of course, there is my grandmother's celebrated fudge. I called her to thank her, and she said, “What fudge?” It was an odd response. But it gave me an idea. Rather than eat the fudge, I wrapped the box in a plastic garbage bag, sealed it tight and I stuck it in the back of my freezer with the prayer that it would be many years before I would defrost it to realize my visionary plan. 

 

What nobody realized is that Nana was suffering a series of mini strokes that Spring, and that explained why she couldn't remember that she had sent me the fudge. That August, my grandmother suffered a massive stroke. It sent her to the hospital just as my wife and I were getting ready to leave on a California vacation. My mother said, “Take the trip,” and I was warned, “Do not show up in St. Louis for fear that it would frighten Nana that her condition was serious.” 

 

The day after we arrived in San Francisco, we got word that my grandmother had passed. And I was devastated. As if that were not enough, I had another problem. The last batch of fudge was in Brooklyn, and we had to fly from San Francisco straight to St. Louis for the funeral. Undaunted, I took my key and I FedExed it to a friend in New York, who went to our apartment, got the fudge and FedExed it to me in St. Louis. [audience laughter] 

 

On the second day of Shiva, my package arrived. [audience laughter] As I walked into the living room where the family had gathered, and everybody saw I had the Russell Stover candy box, you could hear a pin drop. [audience laughter] This was much more than a recipe. As I shared the last batch of fudge, the tears turned to smiles, and everybody began to tell their fudge stories. Someone remarked, “Nana's catering her own Shiva.” [audience laughter] Nothing could have been sweeter. As for the title Angel Boy,- [audience laughter] [audience cheers and applause] -immortality. [audience laughter] I love you, Nana. I miss you. Thank you.