Some of my earliest food memories happened while I was killing time in the back of my parent's Baskin Robbins as a kid. I’d hang out there after school for what felt like an eternity, but was probably just a couple of hours. (Time really drags when you’re a kid doing something you don’t want to.) After finishing up my homework, I’d try to keep myself entertained with whatever I could find. Weirdly, my favorite things to do were flatten, stack, and tie cardboard boxes, and stack and unstack giant six-pound tins of hot fudge—really foreshadowing my current fondness for spreadsheets and crisply-cut painters’ tape labels.
What I didn’t spend much time doing was eating ice cream. Or fudge, or caramel, or anything fun. I was allergic to dairy and eggs and almost everything else as a kid. (Most of those allergies magically went away in adulthood.) Instead, I’d stick my head in the freezers, fridges, and 10-pound bags of rainbow sprinkles and sniff (probably a health code violation, now that I think of it). I can clearly remember how everything in that store smelled, from the giant tubs of icing for the ice cream cakes to the dipping cabinets filled with 31-plus flavors, and especially those cardboard boxes.
When I was finally able to taste all the stuff I spent so much time dreaming about, most of it didn’t live up to the expectations I had in my head. I mean, it’s a lot to ask of a scoop to taste like all your childhood fantasies. But that’s why I’m such a die-hard fan of Jeni’s ice cream. The first taste I had of Jeni’s green mint chip actually gave me goosebumps. It tastes just like what I dreamt of when I was a kid. I recently found my dream vanilla in Alec’s Tahitian vanilla bean ice cream. The vanilla flavor is so bold it smacks you in the face with the scent of marshmallows and orchids.
This fudge recipe is exactly what I hoped those giant tins were filled with. It’s deeply chocolatey, not too sweet, with caramel-y base notes thanks to pure maple syrup. No, this fudge does not taste like maple. Instead, the maple acts to round out the flavor of the cocoa and chocolate with its earthy and smoky undertones. A hefty hit of salt always brings out the best in chocolate, and a bit of corn syrup is key to keeping things glossy and smooth (the corn syrup is seriously not negotiable!).
Technique is also vital to the fudge’s smooth texture. Don’t rush the first step of simmering the cocoa powder with the cream. Cocoa needs a moment to hydrate and fully bloom all its flavors, and prevent the fudge from tasting chalky. Be sure to whisk constantly and use a heavy bottom pot to prevent the cocoa from scorching. Once the cocoa has had a chance to bloom and you’ve added the chocolate, only heat the mixture enough to melt the chocolate, and do not let it boil.
Stored in the fridge, the fudge will keep for practically forever. Reheat it gently in a microwave or over the stovetop, stirring frequently, until it’s fluid and warm. Pour it over ice cream (obviously), or use it to fill a cake, frost an ice cream pie, dip fresh fruit, and even roll into truffles.
Dark Chocolate Maple Hot Fudge Recipe
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