I only turn on the oven at weekends for very special occasions. Usually when I am baking a dessert. And I found one that almost made me lick the computer screen when I saw the pictures.
I had my tongue out. It was a close call.
Check this out. I have provided a link to the recipe (and the demise of your waistline) below.
These are a seriously good, seriously squishy, melty, stringy marshmallow delight.
All I needed to get was Horlicks, (such a crazy name!) a few marshmallows and some good dark chocolate.
The supermarket on the main street in my home town is a virtual Aladdin’s cave. You will find the most random items in there and located amongst the water pistols and glaze cherries, was Horlicks.
I grabbed two inviting looking bags of Princess Marshmallows and hoped five euros would stretch to my three items.
Not only is the supermarket great for crazy stuff, sometimes their prices surprise me. The marshmallows were just one euro per bag. Bargain!
I had already been relieved of twenty one euros in the Euro Store minutes beforehand buying pump action water pistols for the boys.
One of which was broken within a half an hour on arriving home. Then I spied Juno chewing a forty eight euro pair of Clarks Doodles sandals.
I was so utterly cross I had to bake something in order to calm down and so I turned on the oven to make these seriously squishy brownies.
They need to be cooled completely before cutting into and serving and this was proving to be the hardest part.
“When can we have some?” “When will they be cool?” “Can you not check again?” “I can’t wait any longer!”
So on and so forth.
Finally, eventually they were ready.
Oldest Boy. Aged 7 years: “Yum! That’s what I think. Marshmallow is sticky and they taste like brownies. Thanks for making them.”
Shy Boy. Aged 5.5 yrs. “Yummmmm. This is good!”
Lovely Liam: Aged 4. “Mmmmnnnnnnnn. Thith ith lubly.” Translation: “Mmmmmmm. This is lovely!” His mouth was full.
Smallest Boy. Aged 2 years and 2 months. “Nom nom! Nonner wan.” Translation: Nom nom! Another one.
Baking didn’t calm me right down; three hours of “me time” in a hair salon having balayage highlights applied wasn’t a bad way to start. Getting the strap sewn back onto the sandal for just €3 helped a whole lot.
It also saved a dog and a four year old from being rehomed.
In a certain very flattering light and with a whole lot of photo shopping going on, this is how I look today with the highlights. Ahem.
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