Make it, eat it, gift it, repeat it.
Me? I say love is Beef Fat Fudge.
An oversimplification? Maybe. But I think the most complicated matters in life are understood in experience, not explanation.
And when you experience a taste of BFF—an exceptionally decadent fudge, flexing rendered beef fat where typical recipes peddle butter—you experience a chemistry that is subtly surprising, and arresting. It’s an equation that reads ill on paper, but when realized... man, is it ever right. It’s a nuanced compounding of strengths—unctuous umami, milky sweetness, and, hello, chocolate—that is as graceful as it is powerful.
I know what you’re thinking. Kinda sounds like infatuation, not love.
That’s a fair surface-level assessment. But see, you have to look deeper than that... like all the way to step three in this recipe. Infatuation is cheap; infatuation does not endure agitation. Meanwhile, love endures all things, remember? Much of the uniquely incredible balance present within a bite of Beef Fat Fudge is a product of agitation.
Before this fudge is left to set into a thing of beauty, the ingredients are beaten with an electric mixer until “the mixture begins to lose its gloss” (i.e. BYE BYE, glow of it’s so new and exciting and amazing to be next to you). When you throw elements into a bowl together and beat the hell out of them in some chaotic whirlwind-esque fashion, you’re gonna come out with one of two things: a weird, awkward mess or an emulsification—a stable bond. In this case, you come out with a bond that’s stable, as well as light. The levity that’s literally whipped into this fudgy matrix provides the volume and delightful creaminess necessary to balance the flavor intensity that these ingredients bring to the table.
WATCH: How to Make Dark Chocolate Peppermint Fudge
Now you could easily say that’s all well and good, and proceed to rattle off all the reasons why (this less familiar form of) cow grease belongs nowhere near your fudge—and your holiday fudge at that!
I can counter you with all the reasons it does in fact belong there, just as much as a glass of milk belongs alongside. You likely won’t understand a one of them until you open wide and taste it. Heck, I didn’t immediately understand when I came across the original beef fudge recipe from 1967 that ultimately inspired this exceptional candy I’m raving about today. (In truth, I still don’t entirely understand why one would mix actual roast beef into fudge, even with “the crusty parts removed.” But that’s fine; it was the 60s and I wasn’t placed on this earth to understand everything.)
At the end of the day, I think Paul, Pat, and Emily were all saying essentially the same thing: it’s complicated. But what Beef Fat Fudge is here to say is that that’s OK. To love—in the way that is brave and vulnerable—it is, by all means, a bold show of defiance against what is popularly accepted and easily understood.
And all I’m saying is, make the Beef Fat Fudge anyway.