#184 Marshrooms 2

“What is a marsh mallow anyhow?” I jested, and then said, “A question, like all great mysteries, for another day. Like where did we get the name fudge?”
I thought I was just making light of a made-up name. As if there was ever a mallow in a marsh to pick. I knew of course, that there was a mallow plant. I have one in my back yard that pokes its perennial head up each spring. So I go to the etymological dictionary after writing my last essay and, amazement upon amazement, there is a real botanical origin for the marshmallow. Back in the old days, they used to go into the salt marshes and harvest a plant called the marsh mallow—I kid you not—and from the root of that plant make a paste which yielded a sticky confection that they called marshmallow. At some point the whole process went through a Velveeta versus Cheddar transmogrification and the current corn syrup, sugar, gelatin thing we use now was born. Still, they list no reason why we don’t say marshmallow and instead say marshmellow.
On to fudge: My trusty etymological dictionary defines fudge “as an alteration of the Middle English “fadge.” Which means to make suit or fit. The traditional story traces fudge in this sense from a certain Captain Fudge who always brought home his owners a good cargo of lies. It seems there was a late 17th century Captain Fudge called Lying Fudge and perhaps his name influenced the form of fadge in the sense of ‘to contrive without necessary materials.’” No word as to whether he worked for Willy Wonka.
I assume that means that the confection I now labor carefully to make every holiday season in a precisely controlled manner from a specific list of ingredients originated from something someone threw together randomly once cause they didn’t have the right stuff handy.
Jerry-rigged candy as it were. How paradoxical. Because I know through countless attempt to make minute alterations to the variables that there is no carelessness allowed in the making of good fudge.
Words will turn on you like that. Like the other day I was driving by a Burger King. Their signboard out front was advertising the new “Swiss and Shroom” sandwich. I accepted the description for a split second before I came to a screeching stop. Wait a minute. Since when did “shroom” enter the common vocabulary as a name for every mushroom and since when did the name enter polite, non-drug culture conversation at all? Burger King touting “shrooms” for gosh sake. What’s next, the Taco Bell peyote chipotle burrito?
America, ya gotta love it.