August 07, 2005
mercuryfern's question about the first thing I ever learned to cook has stayed in my mind all night, so I thought it would be nice to post the sainted Brownies Cockaigne recipe. After all, nothing says "Why, look! Light on the horizon!" like a chocolate dessert.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit (Gas Mark 4). Butter a 9"x 9" pan (for thick, cakey brownies) or a 9"x 13" pan (for thin, chewy brownies -- I like these).
Melt the butter and chocolate in a double boiler over simmering water. Stir to blend, then let cool completely; if the mixture is too warm, the brownies will be heavy and dry.
Beat the eggs and sugar together until frothy. Add salt and vanilla.
Stir the chocolate and butter into the eggs and sugar by hand. When the chocolate is almost completely incorporated, add the flour. If you are using nuts, add them when the flour is almost completely blended in. Pour into prepared pan and bake for 1/2 hour. Cut into squares when cool.
Brownies Cockaigne (from The Joy of Cooking, 1975 edition, by Irma S. Rombauer and Marion Rombauer Becker)
makes 16 - 32 brownies, depending on how large or small you cut them
4 oz. unsweetened chocolate
4 oz. (1 stick) unsalted butter
4 large eggs
2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup toasted walnuts or pecans (optional)
Good Bog, but I wish I could do the Myrna Loy essay here. Sigh. I guess I'll just have to go back to one of my favorite Cynthia Heimel moments:
There is a certain sexual position called "doggie-style," and I've never understood why. What I mean is, have you ever seen dogs doing it? Dull. Possibly a little panting, but absolutely no moaning or crooning, "Oh baby, oh baby." The female dog keeps her eyes open the whole time, wearing on her usually expressive face a world-weary expression more suitable for snubbing Brand X dog food.
When human girls do it doggie-style, they have a lot more fun, and here's why: They can't actually see their partner, and can pretend he's anyone. Benjamin Franklin, Napoleon and Charles Dickens are particular favorites, or you can get really strange and not only pretend that he is Fidel Castro but also that you are Margaret Thatcher. The possibilities are endless.
There was a point here, really, there was. Unfortunately, it got lost on my way into the bathroom where I went to wash the face mask off and ended up face to face with what might just be the weirdest bug I'd ever seen.
(It's dead, of course. I just couldn't summon up the energy to find my Buddha nature and scoop up Big Weird Insect on a piece of paper and deposit it outside. Sorry, Buddha.)
Can I get a woo-hoo from the audience?
(faint exhausted woohooing)
Let's check the state of things Chez PTMYB...
Number of cold showers taken: 3
Number of refrigerator face masks deployed: 1 (currently drying and crumbling off my face, giving me that Swamp Thing look)
Number of Red Bulls consumed: 2
Number of Red Bulls in fridge: 3
Desire to drink any more of the damn things: None, absolutely none
Music currently cued up on laptop: "Video Nasty" by the Damned, "Ace of Spades" by Motorhead, "House of Fun" by Madness. (Viewers, can you spot the theme here?)
Admiration I have for my friends for putting up with my sleep-deprived nonsense: Boundless
Here are some more answers to some more questions, as posed by the lovely Kimberly:
1. Shaken or stirred?
Why, stirred, of course. Shaking causes bruising.
2. Boxers or briefs?
Oh, none for me, thanks. 
3. Top or bottom?
Yes. Absolutely.
4. Baked or fried?
You might have just asked me a question I can't answer. :D
