Chipmunk Cheeks

300 brownies. That’s how many my sister and I had to make for a fundraiser. While that might sound like a joy, purely by the sheer amount of brownies, let me tell you, it isn’t as great as you think it might be. The result was amazing. But the method was tedious. It starts off enjoyable. Then you find your hands greased up with butter to your wrists, with the discarded wrappers piled up and tossed to the side like a book in the making. Or you find brownie batter in the most mysterious of places. You begin to forget if you have a batch in the oven or not. Oh, and the perpetually dirty hands, plus the floury and chocolatey work space. Dirty as in smudged with batter. Not as in the “I went to the toilet and didn’t wash my hands” sense. You know, just for clarification.

It’s such a joy to see the brownie batter being mixed up in the mixer. The batter was thick, but not overly so, and glossy, and rich and deeply coloured. Luscious, that’s what it was. I would’ve licked it if I was a batter person. But I’m not. Call that sacrilege. I love sushi, but I won’t touch raw batter or dough. It’s just not right. Unpasteurized raw eggs? You know what that could lead to? Death. I’m only partially kidding. No, this isn’t escalating quickly, I’m only warning you about the risks. I’m all for preventing preventable deaths.

Some people are adamant that the best brownies are those made with a portion of chocolate. Bar chocolate, to be precise, or whole chocolate, or unsweetened chocolate, or baking chocolate. You get the idea. That does result in an intensely flavoured brownie. However, most recipes that call for chocolate call for a lot of it. Don’t get me wrong, there’s nothing wrong in that itself. But it’s not ideal when you need to bake 300 brownies. Most home bakers won’t need to bake that much. Actually, let me take that statement back. Everyone needs a fort made out of brownies. To hide from the bitter people. But I digress. As I was saying, there’s still the ongoing argument of whether or not chocolate brownies are superior to cocoa brownies. But really, there’s no answer to that. It all comes down to personal preference. All brownies are delicious so, in all honesty, no one’s really losing here.

The recipe we made used all cocoa powder and butter. It’s nearly a one bowl recipe. It’s far from fussy as well- all you basically have to do to make the batter is mix everything up. I’m not sure what the exact recipe is, since my sister has it, but I’d say it’s close to this one, if it isn’t the exact one. Here’s the link.

I melted each portion of butter per each batch in the microwave. In a huge bowl, since the amounts were huge. It was a disaster waiting to happen. But first, a little bit of background. The microwave I have isn’t placed at counter level. It’s set up higher, next to the cabinets, so I have to reach up quite a bit whenever I want to use it. Usually, I can’t see into the containers I put in there. So that means I have to be extra careful when loading and unloading liquids. Especially large bowls full of hot, melted butter. I did fine. Mostly. Except for one batch in particular. To this day, I’m still unsure about what happened at that precise moment. As I just managed to get the bowl out of the microwave, my hand jerked, or the bowl slipped, or I don’t know, but the bowl tipped over and spilled its glorious, greasy contents all over the counter. And over the oven mittens. It was truly a sight to behold. A golden cascade of milk oil, like a waterfall running over the counter, and the stuff placed on it, before snaking down and puddling on the floor. I stood in shock for a moment. Then I started laughing. And I couldn’t stop. No surprise there, really.

Despite that setback, the rest of the baking went without a hitch. Even though it was getting much later and we were tired. The intoxicating scent of the brownies was probably what kept us going. It was extremely rewarding to churn out pan after pan of brownies.

Something worth noting: brownie batters are killer at calligraphy.

Ah, the mysterious occurrences of late night baking.

I’d like to know which part of the brownie you prefer. The corners? The edge pieces? Or the center squares?

What about which type of brownie you like the best? Chewy? Fudgy? Cakey? Or a combination? These were in between chewy and fudgy. They were moist and dense, and not crumbly, which some brownies made with melted chocolate tend to be.

We also packaged the brownies into these cute compact bags. 3 in one bag, which meant 100 bags, which meant 11 leftover brownies which no one really ate. What a waste. But we were a little tired of brownies after that. I know, I know, how could I be?

Shame on me.

The twist tie bows were adorable.

Those were the leftover ones, and they’re not exactly fresh. But they were still good. Brownies can never be bad. Please don’t prove me wrong in that area.

This is from a long time ago. In fact, I don’t remember when. A few months ago, if I had to guess. What I’m saying is that I never have a point.

What’s your favourite aisle in the supermarket? For me, I’d say it’s either between the baking section (what a surprise) or the candy/chocolate aisle. Or the produce section, if that counts. The selection of candies and chocolates they had were enticing. Especially the Lindt bars they had. I mean, Lindt. How can you go wrong with that? They looked so wonderfully fancy and bold, with a combination of unique yet classic flavours. So that’s how I ended up with three different flavoured bars. Back then, I had a fundraiser thing coming up. For that I had to bake about a hundred or so individual baked goods. My mind instantly went to shortbread, since it’s basic and easy, and yields a good amount of cookies at the end.

Then I took it a step further and decided to drizzle and dip them in chocolate. Some I left plain, though. And there were a few with almonds pressed into them. Here’s the shortbread recipe I used.

From left to right: mint, orange, and salted caramel.

Don’t the descriptions sound absolutely divine?

That was the cookie cutter of my choice. Lime green and in the shape of a basic circle. Very… retro. But still makes for simple and beautiful cookies.

Don’t they resemble scallops? Even if only a little bit?

Notice the odd mounds of scrapped dough. I can safely say I’m no good at rolling and cutting out cookies.

No reason for me to include that photo. Move along.

Here they are, after being baked. Those are the almonds I mentioned. Roasted and salted.

What a beauty of a bar. Let the dipping and drizzling commence! As for how I melted the chocolate, I took the lazy route and used the microwave.

Luscious.

My photography skills back then left a lot to be desired. To say the least. But I have to vouch for this method of dressing up simple cookies. Not that shortbread cookies aren’t strong enough to stand on their own. They are, with their rich and buttery flavour. But this is a way to make an already good dessert more decadent. It’s easy. It looks nice. And it’s a crowd pleaser.

I have a few things to say about the chocolate flavours. The caramel was sweet. As in it was dancing on the point of being sickly sweet, even though it had some saltiness to counter that. This is coming from someone with a major sweet tooth. The orange had a refreshing flavour, and was certainly not short on delivering that citrusy edge. It was my sister’s favourite. Then the mint. Almost like your average dark chocolate. But with a punch of frostiness at the end, which really pleased me.

After coating the cookies, I placed them on a sheet, then stored them in the fridge, uncovered. That was so the chocolate would harden and I could package them. I bet they’d set at room temperature too, but that would obviously take longer.

For the fundraiser, I also made lemon bars. That was my first attempt. They turned out okay, though a little gooey and runny, which I attribute to my inexperience and my lack of care. Apart from that, they tasted great, with a buttery crust and a filling full of lemony goodness. It was balanced well with powerful flavours. Then the mess happened when I cut into them. It’s a stretch to call them squares. They weren’t very appealing, aesthetics wise. So I used powdered sugar, the concealer of the baking world.