For me, the "good parts" of my Tidewater, Virginia heritage have to do with hospitality and food. But since I've turned into a vegetarian now, and since Virginians somehow incorporate ham into most everything they cook, with the exception of desserts, I'm left with them. I learned most of what I know about Southern cooking, including the original fudge recipe, from my great aunt, Aunt Mae (pronunciation: "Aint Mae").

Aint Mae symbolized old school Southern hospitality at its finest. She never accepted the advent of pizza, learned to drive, or ever tried on a pair of pants. Only as she approached 90, and only Thursdays, which were the days she spent half of at the beauty parlor getting her hair remolded back into its Lady Bird Johnson coiffure, would she reluctantly allow the eating of fast food. Even so, you had to bring it back to the house, eat it at the table, unwrap you burger and fries and put them on a china plate, and put your soft drink cup on the saucer where the tea glass normally went. Somehow fresh cantaloupe, some type of greens, corn bread and a big chocolate cake would still make it onto the table. Although at the time it seemed ridiculous, I now understand. Eating off of a plate is more enjoyable and comforting than eating out of a Styrofoam box, even if it is just a Big Mac, and that enjoyment and comfort is just important as the biological need to fill our stomachs.

Her example taught me several key things: to focus only on making what you eat delicious, beautiful, and comfortable for whoever stops by, to only use fresh ingredients and ones that you know taste good, to prepare them in a way you know that works, and to do these things no matter how inconvenient, messy, time consuming, or irrational that may seem to other people.

People still remember the food she made years and even decades after they ate it. It made them feel good at the time, and it still makes them feel good to recall it, and that is the main thing any food, meal, or experience should really be judged by. The foods she made were not what you could encounter just anywhere, and one of those foods is what has now evolved into Brooklyn Fudge. I started making the fudge a year or so before she died, and have been making it ever since to keep the tradition alive, no matter where I am in the world or how inconvenient it is.

In the fall of 2006 I found myself in Brooklyn, and (perhaps due to global warming) I started making it early in the season, making more modern versions of it, carrying tupperware containers of it in my pocketbook and cajoling people to do impromptu taste tests wherever I confronted them. The first one was at Angelika Film Center. Some people told me they liked dark chocolate, so I tried some dark versions, and it caught on. I started selling it in mid-November around Park Slope, and by Christmas Eve, over 80lbs had been sold.

The flavors I make contain things Aint Mae never heard of, or ever tried. She'd probably think "wasabi" is a country in Africa. Since I use different ingredients nowadays, intended for a broader (and broader minded) audience and a more modern time, and because Brooklyn exemplifies fusion, and has inspired me to look at everything in a different way (including food), the name "Brooklyn Fudge" seemed fitting. I don't live in Virginia anymore, but I still carry the best things from that upbringing, which isn't only the original fudge recipe, but the simple philosophy of doing everything possible to make people feel comfortable, loved, and special, by taking your time to make the foods you know they love, the way they love them.

Amanda Jones
You can e-mail Amanda at Amanda@BrooklynFudge.com

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