high-bar baking

Can someone explain to me the fetish of the glossy, papery top on a brownie? I don’t get it. It flakes off and I end up awkwardly inhaling it. It isn’t a real texture, and it doesn’t change one bit the final enjoyment of the brownie underneath. But for some reason, people are obsessed with it. Mark me down as someone who does not care.

This isn’t my first rodeo, and I might be committed my favourite brownies already. There may just not be space for any more. Stella Park’s Glossy Fudge Brownie is certainly not bad. But it doesn’t rank. She wants that flaky top (which she got); it doesn’t do anything for me. The interior is fudgy, for sure, and dark. Maybe it was a smidge bitter for me. But something was just off. It wasn’t everything I hoped and dreamed a brownie should be, and I have recipes that do do it for me.

Sarah’s Classic Brownie, Claire’s Forever Brownie, Alvin’s 100 Hours Brownie. Those are the stuff legends are made of, all for different reasons. 

This was a fun challenge, though, because I got to try and apply some lessons I learned from her blondies today. First lesson: brown the butter while the mixer gets put through its paces. Did not succeed. Other things were happening! Fun facts, this recipe uses three sticks of butter, something that made me look at the page no fewer than four times because I thought it was a typo. I had to bring out another pot and brown the third stick by itself, because I just assumed it only called for two! (The blondies yesterday did, to be fair). 

Other lessons: I tried playing around with my oven temp, a thing I do not usually do, because I really wanted them to bake at 350 like they were supposed to. Considering my oven was swinging between 300 and 400, it was a fun little side quest to chase during the bake. I knew it was going to take longer than she said it would, and it came in at 35 minutes instead of 25. I didn’t over bake them, they were just at temp and were still singing when they came out (if you can hear the baked good when it sits on the counter, it means it’s still releasing water and thus isn’t dry yet. It’s cutest to refer to this as “singing”). 

I knew in the tradition of brownies that it would swell up in the middle and then collapse, and that it wasn’t done at least until the major dome (“Major Dome!”) had subsided. So I knew to wait for that. Plus it was, you know, liquid in the center. 

I also finally realized what she was talking about when she said it would feel like the soft part of your forearm. Maybe not exactly how she meant it, but when it’s done and I poke it, it pushes back. There is a visceral difference, and I think that’s what she meant. When it’s raw, it doesn’t push up against you. You’re not looking for firm-firm, but you are looking for… existing. 

It will be a good road trip brownie. Others will love it. Now I know. It’s nice to know that you’re still better off dancing with the one that brought you.