Now you see them...
What better way is there to show a man who has been known to demolish a giant Toblerone in one sitting you love him than to bake for him? I know, I know, you could smother yourself in melted chocolate and writhe around to Donna Summer, but frankly, that’s just not my style. So I spent last night baking him a batch of chocolate and pistachio brownies (left), which, by the way, is a great idea for birthday and Christmas presents if, like us, you’re feeling the pinch.
They turned out well – crumbling, light, yet wonderfully chocolatey and given an interesting twist with the nuts – though not gooey and melting in the middle like I’d hoped.
Baking isn’t something I do very often, partly because I don’t have much of a sweet tooth (I’ll leave that to Jude), but mostly because, as I rediscovered last night, it bores me. It somehow doesn’t hold the magic that cooking does for me. Sure, melting the chocolate was a dreamy experience (who can’t be charmed by a vat of molten choc), but the rest of it left me pretty cold. I mean, you stir it all up, giving yourself RSI as you go (if, like me, you’re lacking an electric whisk) and then you bung it in a baking tray – and that’s it. It just doesn’t hold enough romance – the ad-libbing, the tasting as you go, or enough instant gratification for my liking. But, like the altruistic, and dutiful girl I am, I put myself through it.
If you want to have a go at baking some of your own chocolatey delights, I’d recommend the recipe on Greedy Gourmet, and there’s even a gluten free version on this blog. The results are delicious, but I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again – and I know this is controversial – baking bores me. Am I alone?
I know what you mean, I find cooking a lot more exciting than baking, there’s so much more room for impulse and flair. But, baking does make the house smell fantastic!