Or is it?

I mean, come on people. Who doesn’t just ache for brownies every once in a while? I know I do.
Seriously.

Sometimes it gets so bad that I can’t sleep until I have them. I’ve been known to “sleep bake” otherwise known as “Objective:brownies. Opposition:cleanliness” And wake up when my someone (currently my husband, but back in the day, it could have been anyone, even a few confused roommates) nudging the Easy Chair that I’ve passed out in, with a plate coated in brownie smudges and crumbs, the only proof that the huge mess I left the kitchen was not in vain.

Sounds pretty pathetic. And, yeah. it kinda is.
But you all know you’ve done something similar at some point in your life.

Maybe you broke down and ordered a pizza at the last possible second for delivery, because not only were you too lazy to make dinner, but you were too lazy to even leave the house to get the dinner that you didn’t have to make yourself.  Maybe you went with the salad for lunch during that business meeting, when you reneverbashfulwithbutter.comhttp://www.neverbashfulwithbutter.comally wanted to order everything on the menu, and now you’re home and the fridge is at your mercy. Food is making a B-line to your mouth without the aid of napkins, forks, plates or any other vessel which would facilitate transportation.

Hey, it happens.

A particular memory tracing back to one of my first “shared living” experiences comes to mind..

I was 20, and my previous living situation was a total failure. My EX-roommate lured me into living with her fairly easily, I’d been looking for a place to live, affordable rent, comfortable living situation, blah blah. I didn’t care where, what, or really how. So when she said I’d only be paying $250 a month plus half of the phone bill, I was ecstatic. I loaded up everything I could fit in my best friends truck, and moved into the cruddy little apartment that she was already occupying. Anything that didn’t fit in the truck was sent to goodwill, my friends, my parents. Whoever wanted whatever, really. I gave up a lot to live there.

Of course it was too good to be true.
The day after I moved in, she moved her internet boyfriend in, and although I had known she had recently given birth, and that were would be an infant in the house (this wasn’t a big deal to me at all, since I helped raise my little sisters who were about 7 years old at the present time) I was unaware that her “boyfriend” didn’t care for her child, so he would periodically leave the child in the bassinet  in the living room, and go out without saying a single word to me, when she was already gone. I’d discover this when I heard the door slam, and then heard his truck start (even though the parking area was a good 40 feet from my window, its hard to miss the sound of a hesitating engine) and then hear the baby crying.

Andrea to the rescue.

I also was not aware that she was on government assistance before I moved in, so surprise surprise when I wake up mid morning, exit my bedroom to go make myself something to eat and there is a naked woman walking around the house, no job to go to, and no wish to put a shirt on, either. I could have dealt with that had it not been for the fact that she wasn’t wearing pants, either.

I found out that my rent was going towards her smoking habit and that the state was paying for all of their food, even though both her and her boyfriend routinely ate all of my food despite my placing it both in my “side” of the fridge, but also writing my name on the top of the tupperware. One time I walked into the kitchen and discovered her boyfriend had eaten an entire pizza that I’d made the night before, planning on bringing it to a work potluck the next day.

There was so much more wrong with that living situation, but I’ve already gone on too far with this part of the story.

Needless to say, It wasnt a moment too soon when one of my co-worker friends asked if I wanted to rent a room in the house that he shared with some of his other friends. I’d met them all at parties and get togethers and whatnot. They all had confirmed jobs, lives, vehicles in working order, no children living in the house, and no significant others living in the house.

Sure, I’d be the only girl, but living amongst a group of the nerdiest men in the state of Washington, there was no cause for worry.

In actuality, it was the best living situation I’d ever been in at that point in my life. It was a nice house, my room was at the corner of the upstairs, and I could climb out my window and into a tree that they’d built a little platform on, because the previous tenant liked to go and read there.  The downstairs had red shag carpet, and the guys had every imaginable video game set up, including old school nintendo, dreamcast and the newest addition to the world of video games- the X-box. The rules were simple. Pay rent by the end of the first week of the month, don’t go into anyones room without asking (unless its to retrieve the housecat, which was understandable) Do your own dishes, make your own food, You were assigned one chore to keep up with, and if you didn’t like your chore, you could swap with Andy, the guy in charge. if you were a light sleeper and you needed to wake up early on Saturday mornings, consider doing it elsewhere, because friday night was party night.  Great rules. No problem. Perfect for me, being a 20 year old. And the rent was cheap. $350 a month, including all bills. My chore was weeding/gardening the flower beds around the house, which was not a problem at all, and kinda cool, actually.

I moved in and everything was awesome. I made quick friends with all the guys, sure.. I’d met them before, but only in passing really. My co-worker Josh spent half his time at the house and half at his girlfriend’s apartment. She’d come over a lot and we’d hang out. She was really cool. On Friday nights we sort of got elected to be the kitchen wenches for the parties. We didn’t really mind. She worked at a bar, so she would invite a bunch of her friends and they’d mix drinks and whatnot, and I’d cook and plate and set out food for everyone to eat. I know that doesn’t sound like great fun to a lot of people, but think about it for a minute.. I write a food blog, of course its fitting for me.

Everything was pretty peaceful until Winter hit. The big house was mighty drafty, and prone to leaks. My chore switched from gardening to living room cleanup, which wasn’t too bad, considering.

Most of the guys left the house the week of Thanksgiving. Andy told Josh it was up to me if Josh’s girlfriend stayed in the house over the holidays, since all of her family lived in Czechoslovakia, and I didn’t care, since I was probably going to spend the holidays with my parents anyways.

All was well, Josh and his girl battened down the hatches and spent Thanksgiving weekend home alone, and me and the guys set out to our own family functions.

I came back the day after most of the guys had returned. My first stop, the fridge. I don’t know why, but I was craving something, so I opened up the door and  lo and behold, a shining star amongst the rot and rust.. Just as I bent down to further investigate, Andy slid from around the corner and announced “DONT TOUCH MY FUDGE! Monks make that! My dad buys some every year during the holidays, and I want mine to last a while. DONT eat it.”

I giggled nervously, because sure.. I had just been leaning close to it, but I wasn’t planning on devouring it whole. It wasn’t mine, afterall. I told him no problem, and I had a diet sprite, which I know I had put there before the holiday, because none of the guys drank diet soda.

Unfortunately, though I’d moved on physically.. my mouth watered for that chocolatey goodness. Fudge? Made by monks?! It had to be heavenly. I held back, because I knew better. I went to my room and got out some cookbooks. A short trip to the grocery store just up the road and I returned with the makings of some delicious fudgy brownies.

…I spent all night making those things, just so I could eat one glorious bite before falling asleep. Knowing that in the morning I could pack them up and take them to work with me so I could dole them out amongst my co-workers, and then they too could bask in their glory.  And so it was. I ate one brownie, drank a glass of the communal milk (Andy kept the milk stocked as part of his rent payment. 4 guys and 1 girl, and a gallon of milk goes FAST.) and went off to bed, allowing the brownies to fully cool on the counter with some tinfoil over the top.

And I bet you know the ending of this story.

I woke up that morning, headed down to take my shower. I heard a commotion in the hallway, but I figured it was just one of the guys shooting airsoft guns at another one of the guys as a wakeup call of sorts. They did that ALL the time. I went back upstairs for a little while, came down to the livingroom to clean it up before heading off to work,  and I headed to the kitchen to plate and wrap up those brownies…

And there were crumbs… A small trail on the ground lead me to believe this was a snack and run. Not really shocked, but a little peeved, I turned around to see Andy, holding what appeared to be an entire pan sized brownie in his hand, a glass of milk in the crux of his elbow, a mouth full of brownie.  He didn’t run… at first.  But I got him back.

…That fudge really did taste heavenly.
Tonight wasn’t so much about the aching as it was about a slight craving. And just so you know, my husband <3’s brownies more than I do, so its worthy of note that after I made these brownies, I really only had like.. 3 of them. It was a small batch.. but mysteriously, the remaining 7 or so brownies (even the ones I left in the pan thinking “no one would ever look there!”) disappeared with nary a crumb left behind.

So I made the brownies. I made them with loving care, trying to create the perfect brownie. flaky top layers, Dense and un-cakey texture, crunchy (but not burnt) edges. and NO SOGGY CENTER!

Just to add to the experience, I added some caramel sauce to the top and gave it a swirl before baking..

A few minutes in the oven, a good shake and a poke to make sure the center was cooked, and it was time to go down to brownie town.

This was only about half the batch. My husband had already started in on what wasn’t plated here..

As you can see, they’re not completely perfect. The ones in the center were a little more soggy than I wanted, though they were completely baked.. (note the brownie on the bottom)

Some came out completely wonderful. All the brownies shown above were perfectly dense and moist without being soggy at all!

mmm… caramel…

This was my favourite brownie…

…as you can see.. I’ve already started eating it!

Caramell-Oh my god… Brownies-

1/2 cup butter
4 oz unsweetened chocolate (solid, not powder)
1 1/4 cups sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
1/4 tsp salt
2 eggs
1/2 cup all purpose flour
1 caramello candy bar (or other caramel filled candy bar)
1/4 cup caramel sauce

Preheat the oven to 375F
Grease the bottom of an 8″square baking pan.

Melt the butter and the unsweetened chocolate together, on top of a double boiler.
Stir in sugar, vanilla and salt.
Add eggs one at a time, followed by flour. Stir until just mixed (kind of like you would mix muffins) Chop the caramello into small pieces. This will be slightly messy, so do it on a clean plate, and then make sure to scrape all of that delicious caramel, along with the rest of the candy bar, into the bowl. Fold gently.

Scrape batter into prepared pan and smooth out the top. Drizzle the caramel sauce over the top of the brownies, zig zagging. Don’t worry about how pretty it is. Take a toothpick or a butter knife, and “cut” the top of the brownies so you make pretty swirls out of the caramel and brownie.

bake at 375F for 20-25 minutes, until the center is no longer wobbly and a toothpick comes out “kinda” Clean.

Allow the brownies to cool, if you can, before slicing them.

If you can’t wait until the brownies cool, then at least wait long enough to get a big frosty glass of milk to drink along with it!

-A.

This entry was posted on Saturday, March 1st, 2008 at 2:12 am and is filed under June 2007. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.