Ever since I was a little girl, I have been in love with all things chocolate. My grandmother was a baker amongst other things. I was her first grandchild and we spent a lot of time together cooking sweets in her kitchen. We made everything from cake to divinity to cookies to buckeyes, but my absolute favorite was her homemade fudge. It was to die for. It had an aroma that would make any girl’s heart flutter and a taste that was so creamy it melted as soon as it touched your tongue. I was eight when my grandmother passed away due to complications with her diabetes, so sadly I did not have the chance to perfect her art form. I began a search for her fudge. I travelled to Helen, Gatlinburg, and many other places buying fudge. While many were interesting and delicious, none could quite stack up to my grandmother’s recipe. I gave up hope. All was lost! The love of my life and I couldn’t help but let it slip through my greedy little fingers. Unbeknownst to me, my mother had been paying close attention. She contacted my aunt who had miraculously saved the recipe. My aunt slaved away making many batches of fudge. Each batch was a failure, but she persevered. My birthday arrived in early December and I wondered what my aunt would give me. I was a little confused when she handed me a heavy plate covered in shiny tin foil. “Go ahead,” she said, “open it.” I inhaled sharply, and faster than you could imagine, burst out, “Thank you so much!” I hadn’t known that she had the recipe, but on that day I discovered that she had the same touch of magic that my grandmother did. My love affair with chocolate was rekindled. To this day, my aunt makes me a batch of fudge every year for my birthday. My good friends, who are all aware of my obsession with all things chocolate, also provide me with chocolate on my birthday and Christmas. Honestly, no one knows me better than them—and chocolate.