Microwave Fudge — When the Kitchen Does the Waiting For You

February. Valentine's Day is in two weeks. The retirement is in four months. The book is a thought that is becoming a plan. And Marvin is — Marvin is where Marvin is, which is further from me than he was last month and further still than last year, and the furthering is constant, and the constancy of it is both the cruelest and the most merciful aspect of the disease: cruel because there is no reprieve, merciful because the gradualness allows a kind of adaptation that sudden loss does not. I am adapting. I am always adapting. Adaptation is my primary skill, ahead of teaching and cooking, because teaching and cooking require a stable platform and Marvin's disease has eliminated stability, and what remains is the adaptation — the daily recalibration of what I expect, what I hope for, what I will accept as sufficient.

Groundhog Day. The groundhog did whatever the groundhog does. I don't care about the groundhog. I care about the light, which is getting longer, which is measurable, which is scientific, which is more reliable than a rodent. The light is coming. The spring is coming. The last spring of my teaching career is coming, and the light and the spring and the last are arriving together, and I am ready for all of them, or at least ready to stand in the kitchen and wait for them, which is the Feldman version of readiness: you stand at the stove and you wait and you stir and the thing comes when it comes.

I made a chocolate babka — a twisted, swirled, cocoa-and-cinnamon bread that is Ashkenazi baking at its most luxurious, the bread you make when you want the kitchen to smell like a Viennese bakery, which is to say like butter and chocolate and the specific decadence of a people who survived on potatoes and then, given the opportunity, made this. The babka was a project — two days of rising and rolling and filling and twisting — and the project was the point, because a two-day project gives my hands something to do while my heart does the work of living with Marvin and my mind does the work of planning the book and the retirement and the rest of the life that is coming.

The babka took two days, and I am not sorry for a single hour of it—but afterward, standing in the kitchen with chocolate still under my fingernails and Marvin asleep in the other room, I thought about what it means to give someone chocolate when words have gotten harder to find. Valentine’s Day is coming. I needed something I could make again, and again, and again, on the days when a two-day project is not what the moment asks for. This microwave fudge is that recipe: rich and dark and honest, the kind of thing you can make between one breath and the next, and leave on a plate for someone you love without any explanation required.

Microwave Fudge

Prep Time: 5 minutes | Cook Time: 5 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 10 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 36 pieces

Ingredients

• 3 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 1/4 cup whole milk
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)

Instructions

1. Prepare the pan. Line an 8x8-inch baking dish with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on two sides for easy removal. Set aside.
2. Combine the dry ingredients. In a large microwave-safe bowl, whisk together the sifted powdered sugar, cocoa powder, and salt until evenly mixed.
3. Add the butter and milk. Place the butter pieces and milk on top of the dry ingredients—do not stir. Microwave on high for 2 to 2 1/2 minutes, until the butter is fully melted and the milk is hot.
4. Stir to combine. Remove from the microwave and stir vigorously with a wooden spoon or silicone spatula until the mixture is completely smooth and glossy, about 2 minutes. Work quickly—it sets fast.
5. Add vanilla and mix-ins. Stir in the vanilla extract. Fold in the chopped nuts, if using.
6. Pour and smooth. Transfer the fudge to the prepared pan and use a spatula to spread it into an even layer. Tap the pan gently on the counter to release any air bubbles.
7. Chill until set. Refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or until firm throughout. Lift the fudge out using the parchment overhang, peel away the paper, and cut into 36 small squares.
8. Store. Keep in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 2 weeks, or at room temperature for up to 5 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 72 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 12g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 22mg