Authors: Christine DeSmet
PREPARATION
: 15
MINUTES
COOKING
TIME
: 45
MINUTES
Before you cook: Prepare a large cookie sheet or the equivalent in pans by placing wax paper on the surface. Spray only lightly with nonstick vegetable cooking spray.
Ingredients
2½ cups white sugar
½ cup light corn syrup
2 egg whites (I used powdered egg whites)
1 teaspoon vanilla*
¼ teaspoon salt
½ cup water
*Flavoring options:
For lavender divinity fudge: Instead of the vanilla flavoring, add 1 tablespoon of ground dried organic lavender flower heads to the white sugar and mix well. If using fresh buds, use about 12 organic lavender blossom heads and chop them well or grind them.
For maple nut divinity fudge: Replace the vanilla flavoring in the recipe with one teaspoon maple flavoring. Add one cup of finely chopped walnuts right after pouring the liquid sugar into the beaten egg whites and fold them in.
Directions
In a 2-quart heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine sugar, corn syrup, salt, and water. Cook to a hard ball stage (260 degrees), stirring only until the sugar dissolves. Set this aside when it reaches 260 degrees.
Using medium speed or a hand mixer, beat the egg whites into stiff peaks. Gradually pour the syrup over the egg whites, beating at high speed. Add the flavoring (and nuts if you’re making maple nut divinity fudge), then beat and fold by hand until the candy loses its shine and becomes dull and doughlike; this will take about 10 minutes.
Using a teaspoon, drop the divinity dough quickly onto the prepared cookie sheet. Makes 40–50 pieces.
Ava’s Jack-o’-Lantern Pumpkin Fudge
Like the smile on a jack-o’-lantern’s face, this fudge puts a smile on two faces: the cook making it, and those eating it. It’s easy to make, and the tasters at my office at the university raved about it, noting it had a rich pumpkin flavor.
PREPARATION
: 10
MINUTES
COOKING
TIME
: 45
MINUTES
Before you cook:
Prepare a 9-by-9-inch pan by either greasing it with butter on the bottom and sides, or lining it with wax paper so that the wax paper comes over the edges. Spray the paper lightly with nonstick vegetable cooking spray.
Ingredients
2½ cups white sugar
2
⁄
3
cup evaporated milk
¾ cup canned mashed pumpkin*
2 tablespoons butter
7 ounces marshmallow crème
1½ teaspoons pumpkin pie spice
1 cup white chocolate chips
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Optional: Edible gold luster dust or candy corn to top each piece
*Mashed pumpkin has less sugar than pumpkin pie puree. I did not test this using puree.
Directions
In a 3-quart heavy-bottomed saucepan, heat the evaporated milk and sugar over medium heat. Bring this to a bubbly, rolling boil. Stir with a wooden spoon now and then; there is no need for continuous stirring.
Fold in the mashed pumpkin and pumpkin pie spice and bring it to a boil again. Then stir in the marshmallow crème and butter; bring it again to a rolling boil. Cook for 18
minutes or slightly more, stirring intermittently, until it looks thick and glistening.
Remove it from heat. Add the chocolate chips and vanilla. Stir until the chips are melted. Pour it into the pan. Cool. Dust it with edible gold dust or dress the top with pieces of candy corn.
Dessert serving idea:
Chop into chips of fudge and sprinkle the chips onto vanilla ice cream; top it with whipped cream, and enjoy.
Acknowledgments
Many thanks go to these wonderful people:
My readers who have told me they love Ava and Gilpa, and who share recipes with me.
Door County’s amazing residents and business operators. Most settings in my books are real. Thank you for creating a paradise that I can write about.
Al and Theresa Alexander, for the tour of the Saint Mary of the Snows Church in Namur; and Bill Chaudoir for his assistance at the Namur kermis; and Christine Chaudoir, who operates Chris and Jack’s Belgian Bar next door, for the good information about the cemetery.
Retired Fire Captain Greg Renz and Emergency Response Specialist Thomas Jones answered my questions about fires. Thanks, guys.
My neighbor Jane Adams—a super fan of this series, touting it to friends across the country and to book clubs. Many thanks, Jane, for your tireless support.
Kjersta Holter, of the
Isthmus
newspaper, Madison, Wisconsin, for helping me name a character.
Bookstore owners and managers—you’re special. A shout-out to Joanne Berg at Mystery to Me, in Madison, who hosted my launch parties. Thank you!
Danielle Perez, my editor extraordinaire, and Danielle Dill, my hardworking publicist, both at Penguin Random House/New American Library/Obsidian.
Artist Neal Armstrong and designer Katie Anderson, who do my great covers.
Copy editor Dan Larsen, who saves me a lot.
John Talbot, my agent, for keeping me on track.
My colleagues Laura Kahl, for taking photos of fudge that look luscious, and Laurie Scheer, for cheerleading me all the way.
My taste tasters this time: Bob Boetzer, Judy Brickbauer, Laurie Greenberg, Vanika Mock, Kimary Peterson, Sybil Pressprich, Glen Schubert, Robert Toomey.
The writers in my master classes at the University of Wisconsin-Madison—your kind words echo in my ears constantly and spur me onward. Recipe hounds among them included Roi Solberg and Lisa Kusko.
Peggy Williams, author (MJ Williams) and friend, who is always there when needed.
Special, supportive friends Tom and Carol Airis, Anne and Joe Purpura, John and Betty Qualheim. You rock.
My lovely aunts who helped with research on Belgian things: Cheryl DeSmet, Janet DeSmet, Janet Lydon.
My family—your support means everything. Thank you.
And Bob Boetzer—the man who “suffers” through research visits to luscious Door County fudge shops and more. Thank you!
Author’s Note
A
dele Brise was a real person. According to many historical accounts, in 1859, as a young woman immigrant to Door County, Wisconsin, from Brabant, Belgium, Brise experienced three visions of the Virgin Mary telling her to teach children. She became a nun of the Third Order (secular) Franciscans.
Adele’s father built a small ten-by-twelve-foot chapel at the apparition site at Champion, Wisconsin. It was enlarged once, and then a brick chapel was erected in 1880. Saint Mary’s Academy for teaching children became part of the site in 1867.
On December 8, 2010, the apparition known as “Our Lady of Good Hope” was declared the first Marian apparition authenticated and recognized by the Roman Catholic Church in the United States. The decree for this is listed at the “Our Lady of Good Hope” Web site.
Today, many make the pilgrimage to see the church and Adele Brise’s grave. You’ll note on the grave marker “Brice,” an American version of her name.
A search online for “Adele Brise” will bring up many details about her life.
The Great Fire of 1871—also known as the Peshtigo Fire—was also real. It happened the same day as the Great Chicago Fire. Many online references, including those of the Wisconsin State Historical Society, give vivid details of the tragedy.
Did Adele have a secret fudge recipe? That part is pure
fictional speculation by the author. Fudge was popularized in the United States in the 1880s—during Sister Adele Brise’s lifetime. I like to think the Belgians of Door County who loved their desserts and chocolates were at the forefront of making that new confection called fudge.
* * *
The real Namur, Wisconsin, kermis is held the third Sunday of September. But always check with the Belgians of Door County for the current dates. Many communities hold a kermis in the autumn.
Don’t miss the first Fudge Shop Mystery
by Christine DeSmet,
FIRST-DEGREE FUDGE
Available now from Obsidian.
I
was cutting a pan of Cinderella Pink Fudge into twenty-four bite-sized squares on the white marble-slab table near the window that fronted the docks when my friend Pauline Mertens burst through the door, rattling the cowbell hooked to the knob. Snow flurries and cold air rushed in to stir the chocolate-scented air.
“Ava, she’s here!” Pauline said, not bothering to take off her coat. “Can you believe it? Oh my gosh golly giddy-ups, I saw Hollywood’s voluptuous,
von vivant
vixen vamp!” She whipped her long black hair back over her shoulders, acting the part herself.
Pauline is a kindergarten teacher, so over-the-top alliteration and other word games often spilled into our conversations.
But an excited tickle was running through me, too, because this was the day my fudge would debut for a celebrity. “You saw
the
Rainetta Johnson? Where?”
“At the Blue Heron Inn. Isabelle said she stayed overnight. Oh, that looks luscious.”
I slapped her hand away before she stole a piece of pale pink cherry-vanilla fudge, which had my own mouth watering. The gustable air in the shop smelled like cotton candy and freshly made vanilla waffle ice-cream cones combined. My little shop had already seen a dozen fishers and early-season tourists duck out of the unusual May cold because of the smell they said hit them yards away along the Lake Michigan docks of Fishers’ Harbor in Door County, Wisconsin.
“This fudge is for the party,” I said, “but here, I’ll give you a taste from the new batch. Tell me if it’s creamy enough.”
I moved to the next area of my six-foot marble table, where I’d poured warm but cooling creamy pink fudge straight from the copper kettle nearby. I’d whipped the pink confection fast for the last fifteen minutes with four-foot walnut wood paddles. My shoulders were still aching.
The next step was working the white chocolate with my small wood spatulas until it stiffened enough for my hands to take over in a process called “loafing.” I would then knead the pink pile of sugar crystals until they transformed like magic into just the right consistency for slicing. Fudge was all about chemistry—and the aromas emanating from melting sugar, butter, and Belgian chocolate. I found a clean spoon and carved into the pale pink cloud of fudge, handing the treat to Pauline.
Pauline set the smidgen of pink cherry-vanilla fudge on her tongue.
Her eyes melted like dark chocolate as an ambrosial smile curved onto her face.
I hopped on my feet like one of her kindergartners. “Well?”
She blossomed in rapture, looking down on me. She was six feet tall—two inches taller than me, which bugged me when we played hoops over at the school.
“This is yummy, better than cherries jubilee!” She dipped the spoon into the fudge loaf again before I could catch her. “Once they taste this at Isabelle’s fund-raiser, they’re all going to descend on this place. Did you make enough? What if Rainetta wants to mail some right away to all her Hollywood friends?”
My head spun with sugarplum visions of grandeur and glamour for myself. “Can you stay and help? I’ve never made this much fudge so fast in my life.”
“I’m sorry. I have to get over to the school.” It was Sunday, and Pauline frequently prepped her classroom for the week on Sundays. “Isabelle was wondering why you weren’t at the inn yet with the fudge.”
“I’m waiting for Gilpa to get here. He took some of the inn’s guests on the lighthouse tour. And then this storm came up.” Gilpa was what I called my grandpa Gil Oosterling. He was the co-owner of my shop.
“He’s too crusty to let anything happen.”
I hoped Pauline was right. I returned to cutting the hardened Cinderella Pink Fudge into one-inch squares. “What’s Rainetta look like?”
“Aging well. Big boobs and bodacious at sixty-five. Rainetta’s already holding court like the movie star she is—or was. And after one bite of this, she’ll be recommending your pink treat for all the swag bags given away at next year’s Oscars.”
My hands shook with anticipation, so much that I thought for a second I’d cut off a finger in the pink fudge, but it was only a cherry popping up under the blade.