I know what you’re thinking; how can anyone possibly have leftover brownies, right? Sheer sacrilege! Now before you start judging me with ‘So much for being a chocoholic, you can’t even finish a brownie?!’ thoughts, allow me to put your mind at ease by affirming that yes, these delectable cinnamon chip brownies were nothing short of well, delectable, and no, there were leftovers not because they were far from it. But when you find yourself with a carton of milk about to go bad in just a couple of days, the only thing you can think of is choosing to send it off with the sweetest ending, a most apt vicissitude to punctuate its unintended oversight, and conveniently pair it with an equally charming counterpart, from whom you’ve been extolling its rich deep flavour.
Now, for those of you who cannot possibly wrap your minds around the idea of a cornstarch ice-cream, fret not, for the ice-cream doesn’t have the slightest taste of cornstarch. With no eggs in the recipe, the cornstarch acts merely in its place as a thickener and binder of sorts, promising a rich and creamy homemade ice-cream.
Confession: This has been the fourth, or maybe fifth, time I’ve made this recipe, each time with my own variation and adjustments, and to date, I have never shared any of the aforementioned versions. And believe you me, they turned out better and better (well, to my palate, specifically) with each newer treatment, but I never got around to sharing. Judging from the above photograph, I reckon you could guess the reason, yes? It just refuses;– and I mean that in the most horrifying terrible-three tantrum-throwing feet-stamping manner;– to be photographed! The day would start off bright and sunny, but once the brownies were cool enough to be handled (and photographed), the dark clouds would come stomping in, and the skies darken, almost shadowing the hue of these rich cocoa morsels. And then there would be an instance of baking-on-a-whim when the sun is almost retiring, and you postpone photography to the next day, only to be dampened when you find the not-so-pretty ones left. I could of course go on and on, but I’m sure anyone with a penchant for photographing their food can understand what I’m getting at.
Yet as vehemently diva-esque these brownies may act, the more insistent I am that good things must be shared, even at the cost of unjust presentation.
I’m the kind of person who can have breakfast for any meal of the day;– from the grand works of an everything-but-the-kitchen-sink sandwich, to a comforting bowl of oatmeal with sliced apples, or just a simple slice of wholemeal toast with a generous spread of Nutella. Apart from being a great choice for lunch when I’m either out of ideas of what to whip up, or am merely being
lazy minimalist in my choice, there is something therapeutic (and somewhat poignant) about enduring a long crazy day and ending it with your last meal of the day being a typical first.
As much as I can continue playing both the rational and poetic cards, I’m pretty sure there are quite a few out there who would literally scrunch their noses at the thought of having pancakes for dinner. To them I would refrain from saying ‘You don’t know what you’re missing out on, sista!’, and offer a breakfast dessert instead, for a sweet decadent end to their nondescript dinner. And since I’m certain I’m in the company of some breakfast fiends out here as well, here’s a little twist on the much-loved yet a tad plebeian homey french toast; — consider it your homey pyjamas with a little ribbon on top.