Coffee Shop Fudge

The week after Thanksgiving is its own quiet thing, the leftovers dwindling in the refrigerator, the first Christmas music on the radio, the light outside getting as short as it gets. I made turkey and vegetable soup from the carcass on Sunday and it simmered for three hours and the apartment smelled like the continuation of the holiday, which is how I prefer my weeks to smell.

Owen took eleven steps consecutively on Monday. He walked from the armchair to the kitchen doorway and arrived and turned around and appeared to assess the distance he had covered with quiet satisfaction. Then he sat down and crawled back to the armchair because crawling is still faster and he is, above all things, practical. He will walk full-time when walking is faster than crawling. He is nine and a half months old and he is already playing a long game.

December is coming and this is our first Christmas with the twins, which means: their first tree, their first ornaments, their first time looking at lights from a car window. I have been thinking about which traditions to establish now that will calcify into things they remember as always having been true. The Christmas cookie baking. The drive through the neighborhood with the lights. The Christmas Eve at Steve and Patty's. Babcia Rose's golabki. These things have always been true. Now they will be true for two more people who do not know yet that they are already inside the tradition.

I am already baking. I made snickerdoodles this week because I wanted to, which is the only reason I need to make anything, and I ate three standing over the cooling rack while both babies napped simultaneously for twenty minutes, which is a miracle I am learning not to question but simply to use.

The snickerdoodles were gone by Wednesday — eaten standing over the cooling rack, mostly by me — and I found myself thinking about what else I wanted to make before December really gets going and the calendar fills up with obligations. This Coffee Shop Fudge has become part of our holiday rhythm the same way the drive through the lights neighborhood has: it shows up every December, it goes on every cookie tray we bring to Steve and Patty’s, and now it will just be one more thing that has always been true. It’s fast enough to make during a good nap window, which right now is the only window I have.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min + 2 hrs chilling | Servings: 64 pieces

Ingredients

3 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter
2/3 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons instant espresso powder
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 package (12 oz) semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 jar (7 oz) marshmallow creme
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Instructions

Prepare the pan. Line a 13x9-inch baking pan with foil, leaving overhang on two sides. Lightly butter the foil and set aside.
Combine the base. In a large heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the sugar, butter, heavy cream, espresso powder, and cinnamon over medium heat. Stir constantly until the butter melts and the sugar dissolves.
Bring to a boil. Increase heat to medium-high and bring the mixture to a full rolling boil, stirring constantly. Once boiling, continue to cook — stirring the entire time — for exactly 5 minutes.
Add chocolate and marshmallow. Remove the pan from heat immediately. Stir in the chocolate chips and marshmallow creme until completely smooth and no streaks remain, working quickly before the mixture sets.
Finish and pour. Stir in the vanilla extract and nuts if using. Pour the mixture into the prepared pan and spread evenly with a spatula.
Chill. Let the fudge cool at room temperature for 30 minutes, then refrigerate for at least 2 hours until fully firm.
Cut and serve. Lift the fudge out of the pan using the foil overhang. Peel back the foil and cut into 1-inch squares with a sharp knife. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 2 weeks, or refrigerate for up to 3 weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Coffee Shop Fudge — The Holiday Baking That Keeps December Feeling Like December