• Buying You Off

    November 18, 2008

    I’m gearing up to write my thoughts on feminism and since I’m certain I’ll probably and most-likely upset (not intentionally, of course) at least a couple readers I decided that I should hold off just a little bit longer.

    Just long enough to give you a recipe for brownies.


    My hope is that you make these brownies right away and then stash them in the freezer and when you see that I’ve posted about my thoughts on feminism, you will quickly run to the freezer, snatch a brownie and start gnawing on it before you read the post. Then, while you read through my long-winded pontifications (that’s redundant, right?) your brain will be thinking lots of how-dare-she-think-that and I-can’t-believe-she-said-that thoughts, but your mouth will be saying oh my word, these are so incredibly delicious, and so in the end everything will turn out just fine between us and you’ll still read my blog and I’ll still dare to speak my mind, though I will always throw you a sweet morsel beforehand. Promise.

    You better make a double batch of these brownies. No, no, I’m not preparing to make multiple disconcerting speeches, just the one for now, but I’m saying you need to make two batches because the brownies freeze really well, and well, they taste really good.

    I’ve tried many different recipes for brownies, trust you me. I even made the brownies out of Cooks Illustrated, and those people always tie themselves up in knots, trying to create the best of everything. Their brownies, were good, really good, in fact, but I still prefer to make these when the urge for a brownie hits me smack upside the head. I’m not sure why that is. Maybe because I grew up making them and so the recipe is a part of my life experience, just like being homeschooled when I was little, being an oldest child, and being born with a chicken breast (don’t ask). These brownies are, like, a part of my identity.

    And they are really good. Did I say that yet?

    Why are they good? I’m not too skilled at food writing, but I’ll give it a shot. Um, well, if you don’t bake them too long and burn the edges and dry them totally out, they get moist, chewy, and dense. They are not cake-like, nor are they fudge-like; they are chocolate-y-like. You can add nuts and chips and frosting, but these additions are adulterations of the one, true brownie. This is a pure brownie. It is virtuous and undefiled, virginal and chaste. It’s wily and winsome, but yet modest. You see it and you want it.

    So how’s that for food prostitution?

    These brownies stand up very well on their own (in other words, served all by their lonesomes), but I also like them with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, and some caramel sauce. Like, you know, every afternoon with my coffee, while they last.

    Now go on—make yourself a stash. My feminist thoughts are just about ready to serve up (you haven’t sensed any vibes, have you?). I’ll dish them out soon enough. You best get prepared.


    Brownies

    2 ounces unsweetened baking chocolate
    7 tablespoons butter
    1 cup sugar
    2 eggs, beaten
    ½ cup flour
    ½ teaspoon baking powder
    ½ teaspoon salt
    1 teaspoon vanilla

    Melt the chocolate and butter in a heavy-bottomed saucepan on low heat, stirring occasionally, and once the chocolate and butter have melted, remove the pan from the heat.

    In a separate bowl mix together the sugar and eggs. Add the egg mixture to the chocolate mixture and whisk well.

    Add the flour, baking powder, and salt and stir to incorporate. Add the vanilla and stir a little more.

    Pour the brownies into a greased, square (9 x 9) glass pan, and bake at 350 degrees for 22-27 minutes. The cake tester (or toothpick, in my case) should have little smears of chocolate on it when you check, but the brownies should be fairly firm to the touch.

    Cut the brownies while still warm, but cool completely before transferring them to a plastic container (put wax paper in between the layers) and then to the freezer.

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  • SSR

    November 17, 2008

    One of the things I have been doing to hoist myself out of this blah-rut that I’ve been slip-sliding around in is this: during the kids’ rest time I drag my laptop from its usual station on the dusty desk in the kitchen and carry it, life cord dangling, into the living room. I set it up on top of the little footstool, plug it in (the battery is dead and costs ninety dollars to replace but I opted to instead spend that money on a pair of luscious slippers from LL Bean and dressy black boots), and plunk myself down on the carpet in front of the blazing fire, my travel mug of coffee sitting levelly beside me on one of the children’s laid-flat library books.

    I feel pretty good right now: coffee, toasty fire, chocolate brown slippers, quiet house, and a keyboard. True, there is no internet connection in front of the fire, but that’s okay. This way I have nothing to distract me but my thoughts. This is my writing time.

    But back to the title of this post: SSR. No, it does not stand for feminism (which, by the way, I will write more about when I have finished chewing-slash-stewing). It means Sustained Silent Reading.

    I am in the process of reading several books, one of which is The Read-Aloud Handbook by Jim Trelease. I bought this book a couple years ago because I wanted access to the extensive list of recommended age-appropriate reads that made up the second part of the book, but I never read the first half of the book until now.

    I am finding the book inspiring and motivating on many fronts, but especially in the area of SSR. Trelease is a strong advocate for sustained silent reading, meaning 20-30 minutes of quiet reading each day (this happens quite naturally for homeschooled kids, but not so frequently for school kids during the school day), but it occurred to me that I don’t have sustained silent reading. Oh, I spend lots of time reading, but most of it is skim-reading. I read a short chapter of In Defense of Food, I skim the newspaper, rarely reading an article from beginning to end, I blitz through a bunch of different blogs, I read cookbooks and emails and magazine articles and stories to my children. It’s all reduced to sound bites—a little of this and a bit of that, ideas that are reduced to their bare bones, not delved into and thoroughly explored from all angles. And, sadly enough, most of it isn’t great literature.

    So last week when the kids had their rest time, I sat myself down in our new recliner (thanks, Mom and Dad) by the fireplace with a couple books. I told myself I had to read for fifteen minutes before I could go do my writing, but I ended up reading from the Handbook for twenty minutes and then I shifted to In Defense of Food for another fifteen minutes. (Yes, I chuckled at myself for not sticking with one book for the duration, but well…) When I got done reading I felt good. I had absorbed a bunch of solid ideas, delving into topics that were filled with scientific facts and well-though out theories. I comprehended what I read, and I came away smarter, more centered, and fulfilled. I had accomplished something. I had done myself a good deed.

    Since then, I have been trying to read more to myself, for extended periods of time, not just little snatches here and there. I also realized that I don’t often read novels, so I picked up several when I was at the library on Saturday. Yesterday I started Jodi Picoult’s The Tenth Circle. I’m loving learning about Dante and hell and all that jazz (really edifying, that hell stuff).

    All this to say, do you get your daily dose of SSR? What are you reading now? What would you like to be reading?

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  • Just Curious…

    November 16, 2008

    What is the definition of feminism? Don’t cheat and go look it up in the dictionary. I want to know what you think it is.

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