A Thanksgiving Story

Just a dumb little story from a few years back. 

Early on at my current job, we had a big Thanksgiving potluck for the 60 or so employees. As a non-cooking man, I did what we all do in this situation: I hit the food bar at the grocery store, where I bought several pounds of ridiculously overpriced pre-made cranberry sauce. Then I moved it to a different bowl and pretended (or at least let others assume) I made it.   

Normally this would be the end of it. I'm not proud, but that's the way it played out. But there's more: a woman who worked with me (more senior, but not my direct supervisor or anything) really loved the cranberry salad and asked me for the recipe. I told her I'd work on it, assuming that she'd forget. 

She didn't forget. By the third time she asked me, I realized this wasn't going to die on its own. It was way too late to come forward with the truth, so I told her it was a secret family recipe I was forbidden to disclose. Eh. 

Anyway, I was thinking of getting in touch with her and coming clean about the whole thing.

However, as an alternative to nobility, I was also considering extending the joke, something along the lines of pretending that I had a falling out with my family and would now be disclosing the fabled recipe. Dear so-and-so, Now that it turns out my great aunt is a BITCH, I can think of no better way to betray her then by handing out her secret cranberry recipe! To make it even better, I could make the recipe incredibly byzantine (soak the berries in brandy for three days, flambe for 30 seconds, etc.) or incredibly simple (cranberries, sugar, gelatin). 

Here are the pertinent facts: She no longer works for the company. The grocery store chain I purchased the cranberry sauce from no longer exists (so no way for her to buy the stuff). We have a good relationship and still exchange emails. I couldn't re-create the original recipe if I tried. 

So... let it lie, come clean, rev up the prank, or something else?
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​Thoughts?