Fudgeaggedon

Today I went to the Emu Plains Market at Balnarring. I love that market. I go for the food. And the silver jewellery. I’m a repeat offender at the taco stand, the poffertjes truck, the calamari seller, and the Dutch croquette stall. And as for the Chloe Sophia platería, well I’ve now run out of ring fingers.

I ate my way around Emu Plains today, finishing off the day with two cannoli from Eat Cannoli. I also dabbled in some fudge. Fudge is my greatest weakness. You know the stuff, that full-of-sugar-you’ll-end-up-in-a-diabetic-coma variety. I was really looking forward to pushing my blood sugar levels off the Richter scale today. But my usual fudge seller wasn’t there. Instead, there was another sub-standard variety that just didn’t cut the mustard. Hence I had to end the day with two cannoli to compensate for Plan B Fudge Seller not meeting my expectations.

However, the absence of my usual fudge supplier really did me a favour. You see, last time I was at the market I got a bad case of fudge withdrawal. On the way out, I had picked up a block of superior quality fudge and had devoured it before I’d even arrived home, by which time I really needed another fudge fix.

And so began fudgeageddon. Out of desperation for another hit, I start Googling fudge recipes. Vanilla fudge. Chocolate fudge. Cardamon fudge. So I make all three. Because, why not? It’s time-consuming, slaving away over the stove stirring the sticky mess. But, oh it’s worth it. For the split second that you fall into a bliss filled sugar coma.

The problem is that a fudge addiction is like an illicit substance addiction: you just can’t stop. You get your hit but not long afterwards you need another hit and another and another. So for three weeks I just kept making batches of fudge. And eating it for breakfast. And lunch. And dinner. And in between breakfast, lunch and dinner.

I was turning into the Walter White of fudge suppliers. But unlike Mr White, I was consuming my own product.

So as cane sugar profits in Queensland spiked so did all the associated aches and pains from my high sugar diet. I was having trouble sleeping. I had a headache. And all day I dreamed about fudge. I had to go cold turkey. And so, I resolved to stop cooking meth fudge. It was a tough week withdrawing from my sugar addiction. But the fudge equivalent of methadone – cheese and crackers and red wine – got me through.

Now, my focus is to get off the cheese and crackers and red wine.