Sunday, 18 March 2012
Normal service resumed
We got back from an unplanned trip to the Vendée yesterday for Fanf's grandpère's funeral. And today, after the excitement of all seven cousins under one roof (and all but one sleeping in the same bedroom) we returned to our little lives. It's grey and everyone's just a bit flagada so I decided to try and make us some comforting pudding. Chocolate Brownie Cake. I have a history of abject failure with brownies. I thought maybe a cake would be better. And the many comments on the recipe definitely stated that it was meant to be squidgy and collapsed in the middle.
And squidgy and collapsed it was. And a mess. What is it with me and brownies? Why don't they like me? [Thinks] Believe it or not I was a Brownie in my wild youth. A renegade Brownie. I used to steal beans I hadn't earned. I used to sneak out of the Brownie hut as soon as Wise Owl's back was turned. I had one badge. For drama. For performing the blasted heath, hubble bubble toil and trouble scene from Macbeth. I survived six months and left before they had a chance to suggest I might feel more at home elsewhere. A zoo, perhaps. Is this my comeuppance? Wayward Brownies out there beware, thou shalt ne'er make good baked chocolate squares hereafter.
Normally in our housebarelyholdingtogether pudding is yoghurt or fruit. I can't not do pudding. I just can't. But I hereby make a resolution that every Sunday I am going to try and make a real, proper not good for the heart or the pocket pudding.