inner pickle

The Best Brownie. Ever.

I think I found it.

And I tell you, it was a long delicious road from here...

... to the final fabulous non cakey Brownie.

I freely admit I did not create the Recipe of Awesomeness.

I've mentioned it before, a blog I love, Lemonpi. She gave me the recipe but didn't actually create it either.

The original recipe is from Baked which is now officially on my Christmas wish list. 

In fact when Lemonpi does Brownies she does them with bacon. How cool is THAT? 

I'm not brave enough to do bacon when I've only just met this Brownie, maybe someday soon.

Just to demonstrate my commitment to this challenge (best Brownie evah) I think I'm up to 5 recipes. This one being the sixth. And I've made it twice. The first time is the photograph at the top, and I added white choc chips which you can see in the middle. 

They don't need them.

The white choc chips added crunch and texture variation but tip the balance on the sweet stakes. This Brownie, with its teaspoon of salt, is a perfect perfect balance of killingly sweet and rich and not too much so. 

So I've made them again without the rogue chocolate and they're cooling in the kitchen as I type, making the house smell amazing. 

Before I give you the recipe, allow me to give you the photographic back-story to the photo at the top of this post.

Trying to take photos of cake-related items without small hands in the frame can be hard.

Dum-de-dum, I'll just clean up this crumb, then?

Oh. You can see me?

I'm just going to see if these Brownies fit into my bag, OK?

No? Just a little poke?

Well then, I'll just keep my eye on them and check they don't run away while you're taking their photo.

BROWNIES

(Makes 24. Original recipe from Baked by Matt Lewis and Renato Poliafito. This one from Lemonpi.)

1 1/4 cups plain flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons dark unsweetened cocoa powder
311g dark chocolate (60 – 72% cacao), coarsely chopped [I used Lindt 70%]
226g unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1 1/2 cups caster sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

Preheat the oven to 176′C. Butter the sides and bottom of a 9-by-13-inch glass or light-colored metal baking pan.

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, salt and cocoa powder together.

Put the chocolate, butter, and instant espresso powder in a large bowl and set it over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until the chocolate and butter are completely melted and smooth. Turn off the heat, but keep the bowl over the water and add the sugars. Whisk until completely combined, then remove the bowl from the pan. The mixture should be room temperature.

Add 3 eggs to the chocolate mixture and whisk until combined. Add the remaining eggs and whisk until combined. Add the vanilla and stir until combined. Do not overbeat the batter at this stage or your brownies will be cakey.

Sprinkle the flour mixture over the chocolate mixture. Using a spatula (not a whisk), fold the flour mixture into the chocolate until just a bit of the flour mixture is visible.

Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake in the center of the oven for 30 minutes, rotating the pan halfway through the baking time, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out with a few moist crumbs sticking to it. Let the brownies cool completely, then cut them into squares and serve.

Tightly covered with plastic wrap, the brownies keep at room temperature for up to 3 days.

As if they'll last that long.

xxx

Call me anytime

Did you hear that Daniel Craig and Hugh Jackman were interrupted on stage in New York during a tense theatrical moment by a ringing mobile phone? 

The video has just been released, although my main question is who was taking this footage anyway?

There was a bit of talk around the office today of the video and we all swapped stories of disaster phone-ringing moments. 

Someone was in church once and the minister's mobile rang. He fished it out of his vestments and answered it briefly. After ending the call he said to the congregation, 'That was God. He said to tell you it's good to see you all here today.'

Someone else heard of a guy giving a eulogy at his Dad's funeral and the phone in his suit pocket rang. Without missing a beat he answered it, "Hi, Dad. Yep, we're all having a good time, thanks."

I remember my Dad being at a cattle auction and the auctioneer, an old mate of his, was taking bids via the phone and pushing the price of the stock up until his phone actually rang. True story.

My other true story is of a very very dear friend of mine, sitting next to me at the Belvoir Street Theatre about 10 years ago, watching Cate Blanchett, Richard Roxborough and Noah Taylor in Chekov's The Seagull (not a light and fluffy play) and her phone rang. 

Of course it was in the bottom of her bag. And she totally couldn't get it to turn it off. Mainly because her hands were shaking and her eyes were dimmed in panic. She remains nameless because I am quite sure she agonises about that damn ringing phone to this day. The actors stopped (it's a small theatre) and finally it stopped ringing. It was really awful. 

Has your phone ever rung at a bad moment? I wonder what the worst moment would be...

xxx

Three New Excitements

One of my favourite favourite favourite things to do is to talk about books. 

And weirdly enough, I've never been in a bookclub. None of my friends have ever started one!

So I decided to. And we meet for the first time tomorrow night, and I'm really excited! Some of the most interesting people I know, all in my loungeroom, sipping wine/tea/coffee and chatting about fiction. AWESOME. 

And we even have a great name thanks to Rachel, we're called Reading Between The Wines. 

Something else exciting:

SEWING MACHINE!!!

It's Mum's, a terrificly heavy sturdy old Singer. The same one I sewed my own High School Formal dress on (a lace tablecloth and sheet ensemble, dyed green. Sadly there doesn't seem to be photographic verification that it wasn't as tragic as it sounds.)

I used to sew all the time. I may now struggle to even thread the bobbin. 

I really borrowed it to sew some frocks for Tilly but I do have some stashes of fabric for a couple of other projects! Stay tuned! 

And lastly:

The significance of these two new things is actually neither the excellent new sunnies in preparation for a fantastically fun summer, or the BRAND NEW DIANA GABALDON, number 7 in the Outlander series and there goes three nights sleep... but the fact Henry and I went to Westfield, post work and pre-school (Tilly still at daycare) and managed to buy sunglasses, a novel and go to the bank and it was actually quite fun. 

I remember my friend Catriona's euphoric first trip to the shops with no nappy bag, no changes of clothes, just two small girls, one attached to each hand, and her wallet.

It felt like that. REALLY good. 

OK. I have an excellent novel to disappear into.

Tell me one exciting thing! Something new! Something that has made you buzz!

xxx

weekendiness

Our favourite place to sit on Sunday mornings, reading, drinking tea. (She's reading "Welcome to Welsh". Chosen unaided. Good luck with that, Tilly.)

My children see the vacuum so infrequently that it's a novelty. Oh look, it blows air! How FUN!

Like I said. Novelty. 

My two favourite fellas, hanging out at my sister's house. 

Gorgeous sister, marvellous mother.

Birthday boy, nephew Dougie, how did he get to be seven years old?

Trampoline with no sides? SO much room for serious injury. Lemme at it.

Birthday boy again. Because he's just so handsome. And grown up. (SEVEN? Are you sure we didn't skip a year?)

Children's table. Finally. A children's table. Holding hands for grace. No high chairs. No help required. Except for me with my possessed camera which switched settings entirely by itself. No black and white arty-ness intended. 

Anyway, you get the picture. 

Is it just me that feels like I should kinda still be sitting at the kids table and the grown ups table is for someone else? 

How old are you in your head? Honestly, I'm probably fourteen.

xxx

Family Album Part 2

Three more from the wonderful Ray Henning, giving us glimpses into moments we wouldn't otherwise see.

He's written on the back of this one: Hay Making. Sunday 6 December 1959. 

Dad, Uncle Doug and Grandpa. And what would have been a beloved dog, out the front. 

Have you ever hefted a bail of hay? They're really not light at all. First week in December. Hot. A Sunday. Rest day for bankers. If it rains on your hay after you've cut it, before you get it into the hayshed, it can, and frequently does, self combust. Not ideal. So you make hay while the sun shines, you know?

Grandpa. Same day (photo is dated). Same shirt. Pretty happy looking. Perhaps he quite liked Ray Henning because really why would you look so cheerfully at a dude wandering around with a camera, not sweating and not heaving bails? 

I love this photo of Grandpa. 

I never got to meet him. His big heart gave out before I was born. 

So we pore over photos of him, trying to piece together the bits people remember, the stories Dad tells, the farm he left behind, trying to find him. 

He look so much like Dad, without a beard. Therefore he must have been excellent.

Cool old tree, huh?

It's still there:

Garages and chook shed come and go, trees remain. 

Ever planted a tree for posterity? 

Mine are in Brisbane. Maybe I should plant one in Sydney. What about you?

xxx

The Clinic

My little dude has a genetic condition called Velo Cardio Facial Syndrome which I first mentioned here.

Part of this deal is a sub-mucal cleft palate which is a fancy way of saying his speech is a bit hard to understand, notwithstanding almost three years of speech therapy (and the fact that he's 5 and says crazy arsed stuff anyway).

So yesterday Henry and I spent five hours here:

He saw an audiologist, a specialist speech pathologist, a Ear Nose Throat Surgeon and a Plastic Surgeon who specialises in small people's palate reconstruction.

I saw a coffeeologist which was probably my highlight.

Henry, still obsessed with Disney Pixar Cars, got two new cars to see him through:

He had to have a videofluoroscopy which is this cool real-time xray looking at palate movement and the structure of the mouth. In order to see the pharyngeal walls clearly, they had to inject something called Barium up Henry's nose (about the consistency of thin toothpaste) which he was remarkably tolerant about. 

After seeing the Plastics guy, we had a recommendation of reconstructive surgery to repair the cleft and to simultaneously create a pharyngeal flap at the back of his throat.

It's pretty major surgery, he'll be in hospital for 4 to 5 days and post-op can be pretty painful and miserable. Might take a few more cars to get us through this one. 

Luckily for Henry I have, as you know if you're a regular here, a TERRIFIC custard recipe, and well-tried smoothie recipes and it might be about time to knock up some icecream!

We haven't scheduled anything, there are lots of pros and cons to consider, there are a number of risks with the reconstruction, so we'll go back and talk to the speech guy again before we give the go-ahead.

Henry was so fab all afternoon, quite cheerful, introducing his cars to everyone we met. By the end of the last appointment (the Plastic Surgeon) he quietly found my camera and took some photos for his own amusement:

Teach him to hold the camera steady and the kid could be good!

xxx

Family album

As you know, I love photos. I love taking them, I love looking at them, don't particularly love being in them.

There was a photographer called Ray Henning who was a friend of my Dad's many years ago. He was an amateur photographer and we are uber lucky that he took his camera and caught many photos of Dad, his brother, their Dad, the farm, in ways that without Ray Henning we never would have seen.

Long live the photographer.

Dad on top, Uncle Doug strapping the load, Grandpa heaving the bail. 1959.

Dad waving, Grandpa driving. Foxground, circa 1959.

Grandpa, sewing or fertilizing? Walker's farm. Buena Vista on the hill behind him.

Dad, having afternoon tea, looking out of the door of the dairy (at his dog, he said.) May, 1960.

Getting out my camera. Taking more photos. 

You?

xxx

The Cake Stall

Henry goes to a totally wonderful pre-school two days a week. We love it. 

They had a monster garage sale this weekend which we were away for (see yesterday's post) but they also had a fundraising cake stall at the event which I volunteered to bake for. 

Of course I made visitor biscuits (above). 

And cakes:

"Vanilla Cake" being Butter cake with 1 teaspoon of vanilla beaten into with the butter and sugar.

Also a few chocolate cakes.

Very simple recipe and I actually think it's much nicer than my previously-claimed most excellent chocolate cake recipe here.

Pretty much a butter cake with cocoa:

SIMPLE CHOCOLATE CAKE

125g butter, softened

1 cup white sugar

2 eggs

2 cups self raising flour

1 cup cocoa

1.5 cups whole milk

Beat butter and sugar until creamed. Beat in one egg at a time.

Stir in one cup of flour. Add one cup of milk. Stir in the cocoa. Stir in the other cup of flour. Stir in the other half cup of milk.

Bake in moderate oven (180deg) for about 30-40 mins or until skewer comes out clean.

The icing I used on Saturday was about a cup of dark cooking chocolate melted with 40g butter. Stir into approx 1.5 cups icing sugar.

They sold like hotcakes!

These are recipes imprinted on my brain. I've made so many hundreds of batches of those biscuits and those cakes that I could do it sleep deprived at 11pm at night after a tricky week and after Adam had left for the race.

What recipes are in your head? Do you have a back-up baking item you can wheel out with your eyes closed?

xxx

Run when chased

This weekend my man Adam completed the Kathmandu 24-hour adventure race. I am so proud of him.

I don't have any photos of him or Tommy his racing partner, or our friend Roo, a solo entrant, because they started at 9am in the morning and the kids and I weren't at the race location until midday. Adam and Tommy finished at 3.30am the following morning, and as I let them in the door of our cabin, noting they were really really wet and cold and looking a tad disoriented, you know - reaching for my camera was the last thing on my mind.

Here are their bikes:

and the scrambled eggs they polished off when they woke up on Sunday morning.

Here are the kids have a lovely time at the resort (a loose expression) where the event was held:

Hmmm, paddlepops. And a weirdly fabulous inverted trampoline that I had to physically drag the kids off and which has formed the foundation of Henry's perfect dream backyard ever since.

Jack and Tilly playing a game "fixing the tree". 

In Roo's kayak.

I am SO an adventure racer Mum. 

Ah yes, Henry. Ready for your starting 45km mountain bike ride. Then a 5km run. Then 10-12kms trekking along a river. And I mean IN the river. About then it'll get dark. Hike 15kms straight up an escarpment. With only one headtorch because the other one got wet in the river. (Note to family: waterproofing bags a GREAT Christmas gift.) Then get back on your bike for about 27kms along single tracks (this was apparently the fun bit.) Then about 11.30pm get in your kayak and paddle about 10-12km along the Colo River. Which takes you to about 2am. At which time get out, soaking wet (see previous note about river) and ride another 14kms to the finish line. Which you might reach at about 3.30am. 

Your daddy's a legend, buddy. 

Please stay home and drink tea with me instead.

xxx

something beautiful

Families are full of stories. 

My Mum has a hundred of them, one which has always stuck with me. She told me once about a distant aunt of hers, Aunt Lillian, who married Oz, I think in about 1920. 

Oz was from a wealthy farming family, the Lammonds, and was  set up to inherit very well. 

Oz, however, had itchy feet. He didn't want to start working on the family farm straight away. He wanted to go do stuff. 

When he told his father this plan, the old grumpy patriarch said he'd cut him out of the will if he didn't buckle down and get to work.  

Oz went anyway. And was cut out of the will. 

He eventually went south to Currarong and somewhere out the back of beyond he found a farm for rent. He eked out a living with Lillian and four bright young children. And pretty much had nothing. No money, no transport, no shoes on the kids' feet. 

Lillian homeschooled (a long time before it was trendy.) She taught the kids elocution, music and literature. And she made do with a dirt floor. 

One day she walked into town, an hour away. And she bought a teacup.

She took it home, and made a cup of tea in it.

Her relatives were utterly horrified. The children have no shoes and you bought a TEACUP? How COULD you, Lillian?

And Lillian said: 'Because I wanted something beautiful in my life.'

It's so different for so many of us now. We're very lucky. 

Some of us choose to spend our beans on overseas adventures. Some choose to buy incredibly beautiful clothes. Some love cars. Some spend it all on someone else. 

Me? I have a beautiful teacup which makes me think of Aunt Lillian.

What about you? Is there something material that matters to you?

xxx

P.S. Thanks for the story, Mum. xxx