The holidays have come and gone, but I refuse to retire "food gifts" until next Christmas. I had so much fun giving jars and tins to friends and family that I don't want to stop. So, um, I won't. Care to join me?

One of my favorite things I made was this. Perfectly gooey and buttery hot fudge. So rich without being overly sweet. I'm not ashamed to say I kept a jar for myself. But when something this good is so easy, you don't have to make it for a special gift-giving occasion. Make it over a weekend, and have an impromptu ice cream party with your family. Eat it for breakfast in your pajamas or late at night for a memorable past-your-bedtime movie night.

Quick story. One of my most vivid memories from growing up was when my mom would come get me out of bed an hour or so after she had tucked me in. (I guess she was hoping I'd get in a power nap or something.) I'd walk into the living room where she had made a fluffy bed on the floor made from tons of pillows and blankets (we called it a palatte), and we'd eat ice cream and watch a movie. I remember watching Willow like it was yesterday, and even then I thought Val Kilmer was a little weird.

There's no excuse to not make this hot fudge and even better to make a memory with it.

Hot Fudge Sauce

From Smitten Kitchen

• 4oz unsweetened chocolate (you can use bittersweet, but anything more will split your teeth in half)
• 3 tbsp. unsalted butter
• 2/3 cup water
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 6 tbsp. light corn syrup
• pinch of salt
• 1 tbsp. flavoring (optional)

This is mostly a dump-and-stir job. Sure, it requires your attention for ten minutes, but you can do it. If you're making it with your kids, make up songs about ice cream or something while you stir. You just might have birthed the next Weird Al. And now I realize you might not be too jazzed about that possibility.

Melt the chocolate and butter. My preferred method is in the microwave. Nuke it for thirty seconds at a time, and stir at each interval. Burnt chocolate is super gross.

Boil the water. Stir the chocolate and butter mixture into the boiling water.

Add the sugar, corn syrup, and salt. Mix it together until it's all combined. Turn up the heat, and let the mixture come to a boil. Now drop the heat down enough to keep it at a gentle boil but not exploding all over your kitchen. Stir while this happens.

Cook for nine minutes, stirring fairly regularly. So when I made this, my diabolical side came out, and I really wanted to see what would happen if I boiled it for ten. I was, however, not jazzed by the idea of ruining my entire cauldron of hot chocolate (I quadrupled this recipe), so I ignored Bad Kendra and kept my halo afloat. If you have the guts to walk on the wild side, don't forget to tell me what happens.

Let it cool for fifteen minutes, and then add flavorings. Here's what I suggest. Taste the fudge in its current state. Is it good? Do you want it stronger? More mellow? Fruity? Rich? It helps to know what you're starting with so you can prepare better for what your end will be. My personal options were vanilla extract, rum, Kahlua, and raspberry liqueur. I wanted my hot fudge to be a bit lighter in flavor and more round than my initial taste test, but I also wanted some complexity. The vanilla was too simple. The rum too strong. The Kahlua too rich. How could raspberry be wrong? (Yes, I just made a recipe rhyme.) So I added a couple tablespoons of the raspberry, and it was exactly what I was going for. Just play around. You could even leave the fudge as is; that's why it's good to taste it first.

Serve the hot fudge warm over ice cream, but it'll keep in the fridge for awhile. Just microwave it for a few seconds, and stir to make it lovely and silky and ice-cream-worthy again.