The art of baking is not summat indulged in much round our way. Unless it's the collective mind on a smoking herb flex, it's something which has been treated with a combined sense of fear and dread. Which is what those unused to getting baked would say that smoking a reefer does to them. Think about it. Pretty cosmic right? Anyhoo a copy of the Guardian ended up in our gaff the other week (standard) and one gent (who shall remain unnamed) decided to take it upon himself to bake these brownies. You can see the results directly below. They were beautiful to the eye and to the mouth...
As much of the ingredients were in the gaff after these were made, I foolishly attempted to ape our man's masterful efforts. There aren't scales in our residence so somewhat recklessly I decided to judge all measurements by eye. Yep. By mine little eye. The whole process was a gripped-by-the-seat-of-your-pants-style emotional rollercoaster ride - There was fear when it looked like there wasn't enough chocolatey paste to use as a base. Guilt after beating the peanut butter into a pulp in the blender with a wooden spoon, then realising that the spokes in the blender were now bent out of all useful shape. There was also shame when I found the other part of the blender and realised I could have used that instead of standing in the dark kitchen beating the shit out of eggs for aeons by hand in a desperate bid for a stiff peak. But in the end, they came out all reet. No one, to the best of my knowledge, died during the journey or when they reached the final destination of a mouth. Next up - pies...
Melting down £5's worth of chocolate
Striving for a stiff peak by hand
Blending peanut butter in the blender with a wooden spoon. It's just so easy
Chocolate paste
Mid-bake off
The finished product
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