I really love desserts. And baking. And sharing excessive amounts of butter with other people in order to get these dangerous baked goods out of my house where they won't directly apply themselves to my hips/waistline/arm flab deposits. Which is why over the past couple months at work when we've been...well, busy, to say the least...we try to encourage each other along with the promise of treats around 2:30 in the afternoon. Snack attack!! Crazy me, who loves kitchen adventures, signed up for three go-rounds.
First there were homemade Oreos. Which were sooooo good. And also took absolutely forever to make. Although I kinda love going into a Zen mode of rolling out 150ish balls of cookie dough.
Then there were the butterscotch bourbon bars, which I rebranded as butterscotch bourbon cake when I quadrupled the recipe for everything except the brown sugar. Oops. Fortunately, it was fantastically delicious and no one knew they were a semi-screw up until I shared my original plan. Baking adventures are fun!
And finally, rocky road brownies. Which if you don't pay very close attention to when under the broiler for a little marshmallow toasting action...ummm...there could be something along the lines of actual flames and some shrieking and a finished product that looks something like this:
Fortunately, you can just scrape off the blackened goo (while standing in a faintly campfire-s'mores scented kitchen, I might add), pile some fresh marshmallows on top, and give it another shot. And then you'll end up with something like this, which is much pleasing to the eye...and the smoke alarm.
Yup, that's a triple batch of brownies. At least on this one I got the math right.
Oh, and for Easter tomorrow I'll be contributing blueberry crumb bars (already tested and approved) and caprese pasta salad to the spread.
Anyone out there have some start-up capital for the bakery?