Always.
Never.
Not if Bieber’s watching my every move.
Maybe.
(The Butterfinger Bites, if you’re offering, Rocket Fizz.)
Indubitably.
(American-style iced coffee > Australian-style iced coffee.)
Shhhh. I know. You don’t need to tell me.
Won’t repeat.
(My gluten-free dairy-free poppy seed cake is better. Probably because I use sugar.)
Will repeat.
(Happiness is freshly-baked snickerdoodle cookies.)
Recipe here.
Heel click,
Hannah
Welcome. Would you like a slab of salted caramel brownie?
We could also call this treat by a more long-winded, swankypants, and technically correct name: Fleur de Sel Caramel-Swirled Brownies.
Or maybe: David Lebovitz’ Deep Dark Rich Brownies with Trader Joe’s Fleur de Sel Caramel Sauce.
Or else: Just Seriously So Good You Need To Make These Right Now Brownies.
I mean, look at that. Look at how the caramel sauce swirled into the batter turns into pretty crevices and canyons of burnished sea salt-kissed deeply-buttery dulce de leche nestled into soft, moist, heady chocolatey goodness.
Look at how the brownies firm up in the fridge overnight to become dense squares of intense richness hiding a layer of salted caramel within as well as on top. Look, imagine, dream, make.
Make these for someone you love. For people you love. Perhaps for the wonderful people who are letting you stay with them in Southern California for a few weeks, who are catering to both your sweet tooth with endless pints of Ben and Jerry’s and your love of vegetables with 3lb bags of broccoli. For the people whose sunny backyard you’re lying down in every afternoon until the heat sears into your skin and soul, for the people whose couch you’re curling up in every morning to drink coffee and write poetry, for the people whose kindness and care is making you feel so very much at home (-away-from-home).
Make these to say thank you. Make these to say I’m happy. Make these just because.
I followed David Lebovitz’ recipe for dulce de leche brownies to make these Salted Caramel Brownies/Fleur de Sel Caramel-Swirled Brownies, using Baker’s semi-sweet chocolate and Trader Joe’s Fleur de Sel Caramel Sauce. I recommend you do the same.
I’m not quite sure how to introduce these Salted Peanut Butterscotch Blondies to you. The following all seem appropriate:
You’re welcome.
I’m sorry.
Come to mama.
Hooooooooo boy.
Yes. With a bonus side of yes. Yes.
How can it be wrong when it feels so right?
I wish I knew how to quit you.
These blondies were an experiment that went exuberantly wonderfully magnificently right. It all started when my hands, completely of their own volition and in breach of my mind’s demand that they leave well enough alone, reached for a bag of butterscotch chips at my local supermarket.
It continued when the word “blondies!” popped into my head as I pondered what new treat to bake for my beloved colleagues to further (following the success of the Chocolate Chip Coconut Macaroons) illustrate my joy at working with them.
However, I felt in my heart of hearts that straight butterscotch blondies would be too insanely and cloyingly sweet. Plus, none of the recipes I found online felt right to me.
So I created these Salted Peanut Butterscotch Blondies off the top of my head, and spent the entire time they were baking in the oven and cooling on the counter fretting over whether they’d taste any good at all.
Well, these blondies didn’t just taste good. They tasted devastatingly incredible. With a perfectly crackly-crispy top and crust, a dense, moist, almost-chewy and always-butterscotch-sweet middle, and everywhere large nubbins of salted roasted peanuts ensuring that every bite was a minor miracle, these are perhaps my very favourite non-vegan non-raw non-dairy-free non-gluten-free recipe creation of all time.
Don’t just take my word for it, either. One of my colleagues emailed the team with “They are perfection. Seriously. Eat one!”, while another wrote “Oh. My. God. I’m dying. Literally dying. These are so good.”
I maybe had to hide my face a little bit to cope with the happy feelings at that point.
Perhaps I don’t need to quit these blondies after all.
Recipe by me
Makes around 24 (I can’t quite remember)
There are times when baking is not only a pleasure but a necessity.
I’m not referring to the times when food needs to appear on the table because someone (ahem) is on the verge of turning into Cranky Starving Dragon Wo/Man. That’s a time of cooking-necessity, not baking-necessity.
The moments when baking is absolutely essential are the moments when heart and soul need respite from the world; when the simple acts of measuring, stirring, folding, sweetening, flavouring, rising, caramelising, and offering coalesce into a tangible representation of the world making sense, of love and contentment existing.
This weekend, I moved to my parents’ place to house-sit, worked at the office on Saturday and from home on Sunday, and spent a significant amount of time cleaning the carpet on my hands and knees, because, well, our family dog is getting very old.
I can’t be mad at her, though. How can I feel anything but love for the creature who, as I sit with my legs curled under me scrubscrubbing, silently pads up from behind and rests her head on my thigh, looking up at me sadly with her big brown eyes?
All she deserves is cuddles.
Amidst the cleaningworkingcleaningworking, I set aside some time for just-me, and baked this Almond and Coconut Cake with Raspberries. It’s gluten-free, dairy-free, and truly wonderful. It’s moist, nutty, perfumed with coconut and vanilla, and jewelled with raspberries.
I took half to my grandparents, and we talked together over tea, laughing, hoping, pondering. “This cake is lovely, dear,” my grandma said. “No,” my grandpa interjected. “It’s scrumptious.”
And that’s good enough for me.
Serves 8
Recipe found scribbled in a notebook, like a gift from a magic sugar fairy.
Standing on my parents’ deck, face tipped up catch the sun, breathing in warmth after a week of minus temperatures and fingers frozen by scraping ice from car windows.
Leaning over the balcony remembering how, in spring, this very spot is heady with the scent of sweet jasmine flowers. Watching our dog totter around the garden, an old lady now with a grey snout and trusting eyes.
Thinking of the morning’s flowing conversation with Fiona at our regular haunt with our regular teas (lemon ginger for me, Turkish apple for her), words skipping from boys to snow to memories to jobs to choir to hopes and back again. Laughing, shaking heads, hushed voices, thoughtful.
Hugging my parents tight, gasping with giggles, knowing that wherever they are will always be home. Darting into the kitchen, a lightbulb idea for a new flavour of sweet-spiced nuts shining in my mind.
Golden syrup’s unique strong-yet-mellow sweetness, rich pecans, buttery walnuts, warm ginger and cinnamon, pops of sesame, sea salt flakes. Heavenly aroma, sticky from the oven, crisp and addictive once cooled.
Perfect.
Submitted to Ricki’s Wellness Weekend.