Recipes are rarely written in real-time. Browsing through your foodgawker favorites or plethora of Pins, you decide which will make the cut based upon the estimates offered for preparation and baking times. There is a disparity here, however: recipe-time versus mommy-time.
Or more accurately, children-constantly-interrupting-anything-mommy-wants-to-do-time.
Given no choice but to multitask–though longing for the days of luxurious single-tasking–moms are forced to adapt to the demands of the miniature monsters that have taken up residence in their homes. No, not the ones co-mingling with dust bunnies under beds or crouching in closets–I mean the little monsters that call those beds and closets their own: our children. Children with very little consideration for the butter you’re trying to brown, not burn, or the fact that one more excuse as to why they do not need to go to sleep may just drive you to drink.
If you’re not already.
It’s all a balancing act, one that we grow accustomed to, whether we like it or not. If we want to do something, we know we will not be able to focus fully upon that task–it just comes with the territory. So that recipe that you want to make? The one that says it takes 20 minutes to prepare and 30 minutes to bake? It could end up being more like 2 hours, start to finish, if your kids have anything to say about it.
One such incident inspired me to write a recipe in mommy-time. I tweeted about it, attempting to defuse the situation with a hefty dose of humor. It was that or the bottle–though I can say the bottle did get applied to the recipe. It was inevitable.
So here you have it: Slutty Brownies for the mommy who gets no time to herself. Maybe, as she stirs and stews, she wistfully thinks back upon the days when someone may have considered her as desirable as the brownies themselves. Before 2 children ruined her mind as well as her midsection, Spanx being its only saving grace now. Before the dark circles sprouted from the years of sleepless nights and premature gray hairs took over her scalp, every single one of them earned by one of her spawn. Before the boobs decided to flow south, now requiring a Hoover Dam of push-up bras to keep them from bursting through and taking out everything in the valley below. Unless there is some crazy man out there who still finds all that hot–in which case, the brownies are no longer needed as a bribe for a bit of heart-fluttering attention. And maybe then she won’t have to eat the whole pan in a frazzled fit, pushed over the edge by those kids who won’t stay in bed (and pants that no longer fit, due to all this stress). It could happen.
Of course, I’d know nothing about this. Why do you ask?
- 10 Tablespoons unsalted butter
- 1¼ cups vanilla sugar
- ¾ cup Ghirardelli cocoa powder
- ½ cup all-purpose flour
- ½ tsp Jameson Irish Whiskey
- 2 large eggs
- ⅓ package Double Stuf Oreos
- ⅓ package Golden Double Stuf Oreos
- 1 cup (16 Tablespoons) unsalted butter
- 1 cup light brown sugar
- 1 cup vanilla sugar
- 2 large eggs
- seeds of 2 vanilla beans soaked in vodka
- ½ teaspoon vanilla extract
- ½ teaspoon Jameson Irish Whiskey
- 2½ cups all purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon baking powder
- 1 10-oz package Guittard Super Cookie Chips (or 2 cups semisweet chocolate chips)
- Cut up the butter for the brownies and put it in a large microwavable mixing bowl.
- Stop to yell at kids to go back to bed before tripping over the dog on the way to the microwave.
- Heat at 100% power for 1 minute, or until butter is melted.
- Make an empty threat that if the children do not cease their giggling and chatter and start sleeping, they may be sleeping on the front porch tonight.
- Whisk in the vanilla sugar, cocoa powder, and flour, stirring until evenly mixed.
- Add the Irish Whiskey and eggs, stirring until well blended. Set aside.
- Make a trip to the kids' room to figure out why son is shouting the light bulb fell out all by itself from his bedside lamp. Confiscate bulb and grumble all the way back to the kitchen.
- Return to the bedroom to be sure the light is turned off so he doesn't electrocute himself. Sternly warn children they must go to bed NOW.
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Line a 9"x9" baking dish with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cut up cookie butter and transfer to a medium saucepan.
- Heat over medium flame, watching carefully and stirring periodically.
- Walk away from stove--against better judgement--to put kids back into their beds again.
- Stir butter some more. Marvel at how it's bubbling, foaming, and yet not browning.
- Return to bedroom to repeat empty threat of having to sleep on front porch tonight, reminding them it's very cold outside tonight.
- Rush back to stove, relieved that butter did not burn while absent.
- Stir, biting lower lip in frustration as you hear the kids messing around yet again. Yell from the kitchen.
- Once butter has browned--but not burned--dump it into the bowl of a stand mixer.
- Add the sugars and beat on medium speed until sort of fluffy.
- Give daughter cough medicine, as she has wandered all the way to the back of the house again, insisting she needs it.
- Add the eggs, beating until just incorporated.
- Give son cough medicine as well, thankful that it's homeopathic, so it's unlikely they're being over-medicated. Then remember that it's not likely to help put them to sleep either.
- Try to measure out vanilla extract from homemade extract jar and drop a couple sliced bean halves into the dough after managing only ½ teaspoon. Marvel at the seeds spreading on their own in the dough, then add 2 more bean halves. Turn the mixer on lower for 20 seconds to distribute the seeds.
- Find daughter in kitchen again while retrieving the beans out of the mixing bowl, trying to scrape off the batter so as not to waste any of it.
- Send daughter back to bed.
- Pour out the generous measurement of Jameson into the bowl. Take a swig straight from the bottle to fortify yourself.
- Dump flour, salt, baking soda, and baking powder in mixing bowl. Mix on medium speed until well incorporated.
- Remove bowl from mixer and stir in chocolate chips by hand.
- Ignore noise from kids' bedroom while spreading roughly half the cookie dough in the bottom of the prepared 9"x9" baking dish. (Save the rest in an airtight container in the fridge to bake off as cookies later.)
- Lay out alternating rows of Double Stuf and Golden Double Stuf Oreos on top of the cookie dough, pushing in slightly to keep them in place. Feel free to break some to fit as many as possible.
- Spread brownie batter evenly over the top.
- Pop into the oven and set timer for 30 minutes.
- Remind the kids--again--that they should be sleeping.
- Hide in the pantry, licking the spoons and bowls while Tweeting about the saga.
- Realize 10 minutes later that it's finally quieted down.
- Once timer goes off, insert a cake tester or toothpick in the center of brownies to check doneness--there should be some crumbs or something on the tester (preferably not from the Oreos). Add time in 2-3 minute increments until baked all the way.
- Remove from oven and cool completely before cutting.
- Check to make sure kids are still breathing, since they are now silent.
- Despite your resolve to wait, cut the brownies before they've cooled completely. Enjoy the gooeyness in silence.
If you don't have vanilla sugar, using granulated sugar will be fine. Just add a touch more vanilla extract to make up for it (1/4 teaspoon-1/2 teaspoon).
Vanilla beans do not need to be soaked in vodka before using--you can just scrape out the seeds the usual way. Though I'd like to think the vodka adds a nice touch.
While overbaked brownies suck, underbaked can be problematic, too. Unless you harbor no objections to eating raw cookie dough and brownie batter, in which case, eat up and enjoy! Check the center carefully at the end of the baking time and adjust accordingly.