Being cast in the role of keeping me sane and calm the past few weeks: brownies, from a box. Now I’ve made brownies from scratch (and even waited multiple days for them), but there is something so utterly comforting about a brownie from a box and a scoop of vanilla ice cream.
Whatever I am going through: emotional exhaustion, burnout, feeling under the weather, ANYTHING, the monotonous process of mixing eggs, oil, and water into a box of powder and putting it in the oven always calms me down. Then eating that warm fudge with a cold scoop of ice cream? Utter perfection. An Ambrual Reset.
And let’s be real I’m not picky but I am opinionated and the best box brownie is the Pillsbury family size baked in an 8”x8” pan for 30 minutes so that its just barely set. No chocolate chips, no dark chocolate, no coffee extract or what have you. I want processed cocoa and plenty of sugar turning into an ooey gooey sludge mixed with Häagen Dasz. I’ve spoken before on the comfort of processed foods, but there really is something to be said about new generations being brought up in our “we’re losing recipes” era. The homemade brownies and cakes of yore may be disappearing by the wayside in a 70s resurgence of Duncan Hines that actually aligns more with the palate of the youth than a Dutch-processed cocoa with flecks of toffee and peruvian coffee inside. I’m not opposed to either but I truly believe there is a time and place for everything.
Personally, a box brownie speaks to me. It’s like my chicken soup since I don’t believe in soup. There is a comfort to the process of knowing it’s not going to take me 6 hours to enjoy a dessert, just 15 minutes of prep if that. I get to cook a little bit, but not enough for it to be off-putting and well worth the reward.
A tidbit on my appreciation for box brownies, especially in times of need.
Be good Piggies and find your chicken soup (cause none of us believe in soup right?)
Muva Piglette 