Life, love, and the pursuit of chocolate.
From the category archives:
Have you made yesterday’s macaroons yet? They are seriously good. I almost made more today because the idea of sharing made me uncomfortable… The recipe made 12 and I ate 6 of them between last night (in the name of quality control) and this morning (for breakfast, of course). Even so, the idea of sharing the other 6… well… they weren’t even gone yet and I was already having withdrawals.
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A few of you mentioned the cranberry bliss bars from Starbucks when I asked about your favorite holiday treat. And while I’m not sure it is technically a cookie, I’ve decided to include it in the 12 days of cookies… I was going to make them anyway, so why not?
[Note: this recipe is in no way affiliated with Starbucks and any resemblance to a Starbucks' product is purely, blissfully coincidental].
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I made a batch of dulce de leche brownies last week for my humor writing class (it was my turn to bring snacks), but the recipe only calls for about half of the can. Which meant there was some leftover. Which meant I was left vulnerable. So I put the leftovers in a jar and locked it away into the refrigerator, hoping to forget about it for a while. But… Why would I want to forget about dulce de leche? How could I lock it away instead of celebrate it’s existence?… it’s rich, creamy, caramel-y existence?
Please note: this post contains obscene butter usage.*
I’ve been thinking a lot about butter lately. Not in terms of health concerns or anything like that. The thing that has held my focus the most is simple yet perplexing to me… there can never seem to be too much butter in something. No, I’m not running for president of the Paula Deen fan club or anything like that (even if we are from the same hometown). But… can you think of anything that a little butter does not make better? Cooking mushrooms? butter. Radishes? butter. Pancakes? butter. Toast? butter. What are brownies without butter?… Have you ever put butter on a biscuit? How about a muffin? But… why would you do that? I mean, they are made with a reasonable amount of butter already. And yet, it isn’t wrong. It is oh so right. Right? (or am I the only one who butters her biscuits?). Anyway, this is what has been running through my head lately.
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Yesterday was my last day at work. I can’t believe it is actually over. I’ve been waiting and counting down for a couple of months now (longer than that really, but that was when I made my decision to quit), but now that it’s over I feel odd. I had my struggles with work for quite some time, but it was still sad to say goodbye. I don’t regret the decision to leave, but all day long I found myself pausing to take it all in: This is the last time I’ll sit in this cube fixing bugs… this is the last time I’ll walk downstairs to buy lunch… this is the last time I’ll use this laptop. It was all kind of surreal. I didn’t spend a lot of time this week looking ahead, I spent most of it looking back and saying good-byes. The few glimpses to the future I did have were scary. The unknown is scary. I’m excited and it feels good to be taking a step forward, but I am a little freaked out to be out on my own.
Before I could go, I wanted to leave my friends with a parting gift. Brownies. What could be better than brownies? But I couldn’t decide what kind to make: a classic fudge brownie? s’mores brownies? cheesecake brownies? I just couldn’t choose. That is, until I finished reading The Sweet Life in Paris by David Lebovitz. The last recipe in his book is for Dulce de Leche Brownies. Ding ding ding, we have a winner. So I pulled out the Spanish dark chocolate that my friend Erinne gave me and bought a can of dulce de leche (it was made by Nestle. I may try making my own next time but the can from Safeway wasn’t too bad).
