So far, my loved ones have survived all of my baking experiments.
Among all of them, Ally and Kimber played taste-testing guinea pigs for most of my college baking experiments. In hindsight, two penniless college students who both wholly agreed that red wine and a box of white cheddar cheeze-its make an A+ dinner were not exactly the discerning judges I was looking for.
Exhibit A? Brownie Sludge. To this day, I’m not even sure what the end result was actually supposed to be. Suffice it to say that there was butter; there was chocolate; there was sugar; there were chocolate chips . . . and apparently there was no binding agent worth its salt. I remember taking it out of the oven and attempting to remove said sludge from the pan. It was fudgey. It was gooey. It was not leaving that pan. I walked the pan out to our back porch where Ally and Kimber were sunning themselves and painting their toes.
“Well . . . it’s a hot, chocolatey mess. Not sure what happened.”
“Is it edible?” Kimber asked.
“Where are the spoons?” Ally asked. (Given the rapid rate at which Ally’s eyes glaze over at the mention of brownies, I guess I should not have been surprised by this suggestion.)
I left them with spoons, while I ran a post-mortem on the half-baked, brownie fudge soup by reviewing my notes and inspirational recipes. Five minutes later, I returned to the porch, and half the pan was gone.
“Um . . . ?”
Kimber: “Well, we don’t know what it was supposed to be, but it was good!”
Like I said, discerning they are not. But nobody died. Nobody got food poisoning. Nobody got salmonella. We’ll chalk that up to a win. Needless to say . . . I’ve upped my brownie game since then.
So let me tell you about these promiscuous brownies . . .
Slutty brownies are brownies meet chocolate chip cookies meet oreos. I.e., the cookie / bar trifecta that gets around. What I DO love about this recipe is that you can taste each layer. You don’t have to give up the cookie or the oreo or the brownie. And that’s what being slutty is all about, am I right?