I know, it sounds like an oxymoron, right? How can pie be fudge? How can fudge be lemon? How can I even think of writing about it when I don’t have the recipe? (Yet. More on that later.)
I can’t help myself—this stuff was amazing. Here’s the story: I was working at the Women of Faith A Grand New Day event in Dallas on Friday. It was lunchtime; I was hanging out in Catering with my new best friend, Yvette Nicole Brown. We were having a grand time chattering away about how to savor food, dead bodies on TV, Claire Huxtable, and more when Marilyn Meberg walked over, dropped a plastic baggie on the table, and sat down.
“You have to try this,” she said, motioning to rough squares of whitish something inside the baggie. “It’s lemon meringue pie fudge.”
Now, I have to confess that at first glance, the stuff did not look―or sound―particularly appetizing. But I know Marilyn well enough to know that her sweet tooth is pretty reliable, so I was willing to withhold judgment.
“In my talk on Friday afternoon,” Marilyn continued, “I say that my two favorite things are lemon pie and fudge with no nuts. So sweet Collin looked and looked until he found a recipe that combined the two and made a batch for me.”
Collin, it should be explained, is Collin Trent, husband of Anna Trent (emcee for the Friday Feature at Women of Faith) and son-in-law of Sandi Patty. He’s a delightful young man and a darn good cook.
With that endorsement, Yvette and I took the proffered pieces of fudge. It was white chocolate, of course, not dark, and studded with marshmallows in lieu of meringue. With our recent conversation about savoring food in mind, I did the real foodie thing and smelled the fudge first. Oh. My. It had a strong, luscious scent that smelled like . . . well, exactly like lemon meringue pie. So I bit into it. Lo and behold, it tasted like lemon meringue pie—only with the consistency of fudge.
It was wonderful. You have to try it. Collin may try to keep it a secret, but a lot of people are clamoring for the recipe. As soon as someone worms it out of him, I’ll post it here. I promise.
Meanwhile, I’ll just bask in the memory of that luscious, creamy, startling fudge.