Comforting Magic: Nick's Supernatural Brownies

Sorry for the lack of updates. I had a few unexpected surprises last week that kept me from being able to do my usual posts.

On Thursday, I attended a funeral. So this weekend my mom made a few batches of her fantastic lasagna to give to the family and I spent 5 hours on Sunday baking my little heart out. I was planning on making brownies for them, but my aunt got a hold of me and put in her own requests.

I started thinking a lot about life, loss, love, and food.

Baking is an indulgence. Frankly, no one needs sugar, but it can be a simple, yet tangible symbol of care and comfort during and between the best and worst of times.

I absolutely believe love and good intention must be a part of baking and cooking. I’m sure many will think that’s corny or silly.

Baking is a science. It’s chemistry. Follow the recipe and you should end up with a yummy results. But I’ve noticed over the years that my baking always ends up being a bit off if I’m grumpy or unfocused. Love is that intangible, magical extra ingredient.

Right now my go-to, must-share, chock full ‘o love and comfort recipe is Nick Malgieri’s Supernatural Brownies—and, like the name suggests, they have their own supernatural, intangible quality.

Nick’s Supernatural Brownies

With all of that being said, it’s confession time. I usually hate brownies. It’s a longstanding hatred that goes way back to kindergarten. I was sick one day and someone brought in brownies with nuts (gack! Nuts! Strike one.) for their birthday. Nothing dramatic happened, but, since then, I’ve just associated being ill with eating brownies.

These brownies, however, live up to their name. They are supernaturally, otherworldly, and fantastically chocolatey, gooey, chewy, and dense.

I, a brownie hater, love them, but other people love them. I actually had to hide the pan from a couple of people at a party to make sure the other guests had their fair share. I even overheard some murmuring about filling pockets and purses. My aunt actually puts in what have become bimonthly requests.

The recipe is incredibly easy. All I can really say is try it! I don’t think you’ll be disappointed.

On Sunday, I ended up making 3 batches at once.

Seeing all that butter and chocolate at the start was shocking and surprisingly off-putting.

Then, it melted and I fantasized about swimming in it. Amazing how the mind works, huh?

If you’ve ever wondered how much a Kitchen-Aid mixer holds, it’s exactly 3 batches of Nick’s Supernatural Brownies.

That’s 6 sticks of butter, 24 oz of chocolate, 12 eggs, 3 cups of sugar, 3 cups of brown sugar, 6 tsp vanilla, and 1.5 tsp of salt.

I had to transfer it to a large bowl to add the 3 cups of flour, though.

The trick with these brownies is that you have to let them sit overnight once they are baked to let them become “supernatural.” They’re great just out of the oven, but something magical happens overnight in the fridge. Just do it. Trust me!

Also, please don’t be tempted to mess with them on you first batch. Don’t fancy them up with anything. Don’t put mini Reese’s cups, or caramel, or ribbons of raspberry, or chai spices in them.

For the love of all that is delicious and sweet: Just make them the way the Malgieri intended before you go mucking around with the recipe. If you want to mess with them after the first batch, be my guest!

Most importantly, whatever you do, just make sure to share them with someone.

Tomorrow and Wednesday I'll share the other recipes I made. One is my favorite cookie of all time and the other is a cookie that's perfect for spring/summer.

A Love Affair with Firenze

  I distinctly remember getting off the plane and stepping into Rome's Fiumicino airport for the first time.

I was on a school trip in November 2001. Suddenly, we were surrounded by the sounds of the Italian language.

Someone could have been arguing or talking about the disgusting infection they once had, but it certainly sounded beautiful to me.

It took me off guard and didn't make any sense, but I felt like I was coming home.

Our trip started in Rome. I realized there that my love-at-first-sound impression at the airport was not wrong. Rome was more than I ever hoped it would be. It's ancient and yet still fully alive with the vibrant pulse of people and sounds.

But when we got to Florence something I have a hard time really explaining happened. I guess you could say I just fell in love. There are lots of places I've been now that I love and daydream about all the time.

Florence, though, was the first city that really captured my heart. It was the first time I went somewhere and wanted to live there. I wanted to experience the people, the seasons, and daily life. I still do.

So what is it about Florence? I'll do my best to explain.

It's magical to me. It's the architecture and the way the sun hits the warm colors of the buildings, making them glow. It's knowing that the it was the heart of the Renaissance and seeing the evidence of it everywhere, but still feeling the bustle of a city. Of course, during high season, a lot of that bustle comes from tourists but the city is more substantial than the sum of its tourists.

It's the quiet moments in the mornings watching deliveries or vendors put up their goods in the markets.

I stayed at a little hotel called Relais Cavalcanti twice, once in 2004 and once in 2007. It's run by two very nice sisters and is in a beautiful townhouse.

Right next to the door to the hotel is a small purse shop. The guys running it were always so happy and friendly. Whenever we passed by, we'd often hear something like "Hey! Our Canadian friends!" And then we'd get a nice smile and wave. It was such a warm way to start or end a day.

It's the way the morning quiet is so perfectly broken at a busy neighborhood café where regulars go to wake up with a pastry and a quick caffè or cappuccino.

It's also the art. Florence is home to the Uffizi, one of the oldest and greatest galleries in the world, which began housing the Medici family art in 1581.

And it's just wandering around outside, because the art goes beyond galleries.

I loved seeing David 's--ahem!--assets (I can hear you groaning, but I had to!) at the Accademia Gallery, but it's fantastic to be able to saunter by the copy in the Piazza della Signoria while soaking up the sun.

It's also the fact that there are still some artisans working in Florence who produce beautiful things.

The city is famous for leather, for example. It's pretty easy to stumble upon leather shops, factories, and market vendors, especially at the massive San Lorenzo market.

Or you can buy a bauble or two on the Ponte Vecchio.

But for me, it's paper.

Yes, paper.

I stumbled upon an Il Papiro shop on one trip. In the back, past the usual journals and cards, there were poster-sized sheets of paper that had been hand-stamped with patterns that were hand-carved from blocks of wood. Apparently it is a dying art and there are not many who make them this way anymore.

I bought two. So far, these two sheets of paper are my favorite souvenirs from all of my vacations.

It's also the Basilica di Santa Maria del Fiore, also know as the Duomo, with Brunelleschi's Dome proudly sitting atop the cathedral, surveying the city.

The dome itself is a marvel of engineering. Brunelleschi devoted most of his adult life to it.  He died in 1446 when just a few decorations were being added to completely finish the dome.

No one matched his guts, passion, creativity, or know-how to make something to top the octagon of the basilica.

And that's another thing, the city feels almost optimistic because the influence of the Renaissance is still so visible. So much true genius that came from this Florence. Galileo, Michelangelo, Dante, da Vinci, Brunelleschi, Botticelli. . .it's almost as if you can feel the remnants of their creativity hum through the streets.

It's Piazza Santa Croce for a couple of reasons. The church itself is holds the tombs and monuments to many great and well-known Florentines like Dante, Michelangelo, Galileo, Machiavelli, and Enrico Fermi.

But I also love Piazza Santa Croce because I had one of my favorite meals there.

When I was on the school tour, it was with 3 other friends, a couple of parents, and our teacher. We were given a free afternoon in Florence.

Eventually my friend and I ended up in the piazza and noticed our other friend in the window of a restaurant called the Boccadama. It was the first time we had been able to choose a sit-down place to eat. Heaven! We feasted on pasta, shared a bottle of Chianti, and then ate the most incredibly decadent flourless chocolate cake I've ever had.

Maybe by now I've talked about that cake so much that it's become mythically good, but it was a day the deserves mythic status in my mind.

So, it's also the food. Simple, honest, fresh, delicious, soul-satisfying Tuscan food and wine.

One year, I overheard a woman talking about Brunello wine at a restaurant in Florence. Her take? "It's better than sex!" I think that's all I need to say about that.

And, finally, it's about strolling and discovery. I don't want to make this post about must-sees. It's about falling in love. And the best way to fall in love with a city is to relax and just walk around a bit.

I love seeing what the shops have to offer, especially the ones I can't possibly afford.

Crossing the Arno River and walking through the Boboli Gardens gave me a completely different perspective of Florence.

Most of all, however, I love when evening comes and the quiet of the morning begins to return little by little. There's nothing quite like the charm of Florence after a leisurely dinner.

Imagine walking the old cobblestone streets with a gelato in one hand, following the sights and the sounds of a street performer's music as the city continues to glow, just more softly now.

I think D.H. Lawrence said it best about falling for Italy:

For us to go to Italy and to penetrate into Italy is like a most fascinating act of self-discovery -- back, back down the old ways of time. Strange and wonderful chords awake in us, and vibrate again after many hundreds of years of complete forgetfulness.

So if you go to Florence and fall in love or feel awakened, remember to rub the snout of Il Porcellino in the Mercato Nuovo. He will ensure your return.

People seem to like to touch other parts of Il Porcellino too. Maybe this brings you extra special powers of return, I'll have to test the theory next time.

History Love: An Unlikely Valentine

Since it's Valentine's Day and our thoughts lightly turn to love and buying over-priced chocolate, I thought I'd do a post about one of my favorite couples in history, Napoleon and Josephine.

Two years ago, you could have mentioned them and I would have said, "Yeah, yeah, famous romance, meh, whatever." But then, last year, I read Sandra Gulland's The Josephine B Trilogy and I fell in love with their story. As soon as I started reading it, I could not put the 1200-page brick of a book down.

Gulland wrote them as epistolary novels, weaving together letters to Josephine (all but one of which were real, if edited, versions) and entries into her fictional diary spanning from her childhood to her death. The novels feel intimate and respectful of the past. It brings life to facts, events, and people. It feels as real as historical fiction can feel, without layers of gloss or fantasy. (As a side note for history geeks, she also has fantastic footnotes, maps, family trees, timelines, and a few other special surprises. Love!)

After becoming completely immersed in the story, it finally had me sobbing for the last 50 pages. And when I say sobbing, I mean it. Tissues in one hand, book in the other, ugly crying. I have never cried like that over a book. Gulland actually made me cry real tears relating to that short, funny looking, fiery, overly ambitious, power-hungry, cheating, passionate Napoleon guy. Magic!

So by now you might be saying, so what? They're books. It's fiction. And you'd be right. But the books are based on the reality of a fascinating, passionate, tumultuous, and ultimately tragic relationship. A relationship that was no Disney fairy-tale.

Josephine, originally from the island of Martinique, was widowed with two children, Hortense and Eugène, after a largely loveless marriage to a handsome jerk named Alexandre de Beauharnais. His life ended at the guillotine.

When she met Napoleone Bonaparte (the original spelling of his Corsican name) in 1795, he was six years her junior and kind of a weirdo with crazy ideas of invading Italy. He fell head over heels for her and basically changed her name to Josephine. Her real first name was Rose. Their marriage in 1796 originally was something of a marriage of convenience.

Over the years, he had affairs. There is evidence that she had some, too. He divorced her and remarried an Austrian princess, Marie-Louise, so he could have an heir. This was after Josephine went through many painful trips to specialists and "spas"  over a period of years to try to cure her infertility, which was probably brought about from severe stress when she was imprisoned during the Terror. And yet, an imperfect, but real, strong friendship and love developed between them.

So, I will leave you with some excerpts from a few of Napoleon's letters to Josephine in honor of Valentine's Day--may yours be full of love whether you are in a relationship or not, whether your love is like a glossy fairy-tale or not.

The first three excerpts were found at this excellent online exhibition PBS did on Napoleon. I definitely recommend going there and reading through it thing if you're interested Napoleon and/or his relationship with Josephine.

December 1795

I awake full of you. Your image and the memory of last night's intoxicating pleasures has left no rest to my senses.

Sweet incomparable Josephine, what a strange effect you have on my heart. Are you angry? Do I see you sad? Are you worried? My soul breaks with grief and there is no rest for your lover; but how much the more when I yield to this passion that rules me and drink a burning flame from you lips and your heart? Oh! This night has shown me that your portrait is not you!

You leave at midday; in three hours I shall see you.

Meanwhile, my sweet love, a thousand kisses; but do not give me any, for they set my blood on fire.

B.

In November of 1796, Napoleon was away and hearing rumors of Josephine's infidelity. He wrote:

I don't love you anymore, on the contrary, I detest you. You are a vile, mean, beastly slut. You don't write to me at all; you don't love your husband; you know how happy your letters make him, and you don't write him six lines of nonsense. . .

Soon, I hope, I will be holding you in my arms; then I will cover you with a million hot kisses, burning like the equator.

Eventually, Napoleon needed to find an heir. This pressure and his increasingly open affairs sparked marital problems and jealousy between the two. He wrote to his brother Lucien "Josephine is decidedly old and as she cannot now have any children she is very melancholy about it and tiresome[. . .]the woman cries every time she has indigestion, because she says she believes she has been poisoned by those who want me to marry someone else. It is detestable." They divorced on January 10th in 1810.

Josephine wrote in her divorce statement:

The dissolution of my marriage will make no change in the feelings of my heart. The Emperor will always find in me his truest friend.

(From page 1106 of The Josephine B Trilogy. A picture of the letter/statement and French transcription are here.)

Napoleon and Josephine continued to write each other after the divorce, he wrote this a week after:

Trianon, January 17, 1810.

My Dear, D'Audenarde, whom I sent to see you this morning tells me that since you have been at Malmaison you have no longer any courage. Yet that place is full of our happy memories, which can and ought never to change, at least on my side.

I want badly to see you, but I must have some assurance that you are strong and not weak; I too am rather like you, and it makes me frightfully wretched.

Adieu, Josephine; good-night. If you doubted me, you would be very ungrateful.

Napoleon.

(From a great archive of Napoleon's letters to Josephine found on archive.org)

Josephine died on May 29, 1810 at her beloved Château de Malmaison, just outside of Paris. Her son, Eugène, wrote to Napoleon to break the news.

Sire, Emperor (Papa),

I am writing to you now with tears in my heart. Your beloved Josephine passed away suddenly. We still cannot comprehend that she is no longer with us. Our distress is made more bearable knowing that she lived a full life, a life full of  love. She loved us. She loved you--profoundly.

[He goes on to describe her illness over a period of days, a problem with her throat, and her subsequent death.]

She was placed in a double casket. Over twenty thousand people came all the way out to Malmaison to pay their last respects. Astonishing. Even the gate here at Saint-Leu is covered with bouquets and letters of sympathy. Really, Papa, it touches us deeply to see such an outpouring of love.

"Tell him I am waiting," Maman told Hortense a few days before her death. Fever talk, we thought at the time, but now it all seems so clear. Mimi, who was with her through that last feverish night, says her last words were of you.

Did she know how much we loved her? If Maman's death has taught me anything, Sire, it is that one must speak one's heart when one can. I love and honour you as my Emperor and commanding general, but above all as my father. Bon courage, as Corsicans say. May God be with you. I know her spirit will be.

Your faithful and devoted son, Eugène

(Found on page 1171 of The Josephine B. Trilogy)

Almost 11 years later, on May 5, 1821, Napoleon's last words were: "France, l'armée, tête d'armée, Josephine."

France, army, head of army, Josephine.