All I need in this life of sin is a few heaping scoops of creamy chocolate ice cream. It fits into any occasion; at any time of day – it’s perfect for elevensies, a summer afternoon snack, or some late-night stress eating after last week’s Game of Thrones finale. (I don’t want to talk about it. I just can’t even.)
But as I’ve mentioned before, I can’t eat ice cream without feeling icky afterward. Lactose intolerance is just a cruel joke. The good news, which took me way too long to discover, is that there’s a solution to this dilemma. And if you give it a chance, you’ll see what all the fuss is about. Continue reading
You can’t blame me for shoving more chocolate in your face.
I mean, I guess you can. Actually I’ll totally take the blame. I will do that for you, friends, because this is really more of a public service announcement: you all deserve to try these brownies, free of guilt. (By the way, whoever invented the idea of “feeling guilty” about eating should seriously re-evaluate their lives. I call bullshit.) Continue reading
Guys, it’s almost the end of the year and I’m sure resolutions are being drafted up. But before we commit to those good habits, let’s have one more splurge and indulge in something decadent. We deserve it, don’t we?
Leili and I love the marriage of salty and sweet – Leili is kind of a mega-girl fan of that coupling and that’s an understatement. So naturally, this hot chocolate with salted caramel fits the bill. And since it’s so close to the New Year, why not add some Bailey’s to it and be merry?
This recipe is very similar to the hot chocolate we used to make at the cafe we worked at. It is made with ganache and steamed milk – I won’t go too in depth with ganache since Leili already covered that in the chocolate truffles recipe. I use two different types of chocolate since it was all I had but it comes out to about 67% cocoa. Use the chocolate you like, but keep in mind that the caramel is rather sweet and if you’re adding Bailey’s, well, then good for you.
Sometimes, I just need to shove some chocolate into my face.
It feels like more than just a craving. It’s a necessity. Without it I go through withdrawals, getting easily disoriented and inexplicably anxious. It’s gotten so bad that after tearing apart my kitchen without finding so much as a single chocolate chip, I’ve sprinted out into the rain at one in the morning to the 24-hour store just to pick up a couple chocolate bars. (My roommate at the time hesitantly joined me, more out of fear of my chocolate mania than out of solidarity.)
Chocolate isn’t just delicious, people. It runs through my veins.
So if you’re like me, then you know most brownies just don’t make the cut. They’re more sweet than chocolatey; or more cake than brownie. And I’m officially done with those. Because when you can have these rich, chewy, decadently dark chocolate brownies, there’s no point wasting your taste buds on anything less.
Did I mention these are flourless? There’s no flour in this recipe – of any kind. So they’re gluten-free, but without any weird gums or sneaky vegetables keeping things together (here’s looking at you, black bean brownies). To make these, I just created a hybrid recipe of my two favorites and replaced the flour with cocoa powder. The result is a super-rich and extra chocolatey brownie that isn’t the least bit cakey. Yet it isn’t overly sweet like fudge, either. It’s just right.
When I was younger, my family and I would stay with my great-grandmother in Vermont nearly every summer. The small house was situated on the corner of two intersecting dirt roads, with an ancient wood-burning oven to keep warm in the winters and an apple tree out back that was perfect for my small hands to climb.
Nearby there was a hill where you could pick your own blueberries, so every summer we’d craft make-shift buckets out of empty water gallons by cutting the tops off, and pick as many berries as we could fit in our buckets while still snagging a few handfuls to snack on.
Back at the house I would help my mother wash the giant batch of berries, pick out all the leaves and stems, and then watch as my mother would make jars of fresh jam and blueberry pie. So much pie! To this day the smell of freshly baked blueberry pie throws me back to those sweltering summers spent in that rustic Vermont kitchen watching my mom bake, while I stole bites of raw pie dough when I thought she wasn’t looking.
Blueberry season is now almost over, so get the fresh ones while you can! Then make this ice cream to cool off. Although I didn’t pick these blueberries myself, I did get them from a local farm. Still good vibes.