On Mothering And Brownies ...
I may have been a little bossy. But I had to have a means of defense. You don't want to know what they did to some of my toys.
In addition to bossy, I was also a Brownie. Yes, the beanie-topped variety. My uniform included a vest adorned with homemade merit badges cut from felt. My mom was a Brownie leader for a time. And mom taught me how to bake brownies.
So in all those ways, it's legit that I am part of
My brownies walk the line between fudgy and cakey, I slather on the frosting, and I stir, into the gloppy batter, an embarrassment of toasted walnuts that provide the perfect toasty, nutty foil to the cakey-fudginess of the brownies and the smoothness of the frosting. They're a textural extravaganza.
My thanks to David and Renee for inviting me to be a part of the fun, and for including me in a post about moms by stretching "the definition to embrace not just maternal figures but all those women who’ve taken it upon themselves to mother us in some fashion."
My mom loves to cook and bake for others. It fulfills her as much as it nourishes us. And that is one of the many gifts that she has passed along to me.
For Brownies and brownies and everything else you've done and do, thanks, mom.
I'll bake some for dessert on Sunday.
The image is from David's site, as you shall see. It was too much kitschy fun to not poach and use again here.