F@&% it. I’ll just make brownies.
It was getting late in the evening, the night before I’d committed to “bake something” (well, yeah…) for a little brunch with friends the next day. I can’t well recall what had kept me busy all day, but it was something, legitimate, that sapped my energy and left me reaching for an easy fallback after tucking the little ones into bed.
Once committed, I found myself starting to rise to the occasion when I made the pivotal realization that, just because I’d chosen brownies, that didn’t mean I was locked into the traditional, plain rectangle. Soon after that came the admission that brownies seem dressier with frosting, but that I would, personally, have a lot more fun whipping up an Italian meringue than making a buttercream.
A solid plan started to take shape.
Some guesswork landed me the three, graduated pans that seemed to best fit the (luckily forgiving) recipe.
I wanted to capture a toasted coconut marshmallow flavor and texture, so I popped each layer for few minutes under the broiler as I assembled it – though I goofed by not accounting well enough for the ever increasing height. (A torch got me back on track.)
A bit of a sugar bomb, but at least a pretty one…
