Non-Onomatopoetic Cinnamon Buns

There are three things I have missed from Pilsbury cinnamon rolls during the past six or so years of their absence from my life. First, is the firecracker “pop” that sounds off when you peel back the Pilsbury label and that would send our cats yowling to cower under the kitchen table. Second, is the resounding “thwap” that that heavy log of dough would make when it fell out of its aluminum tube. And third, is the circular cake pan I used to bake the rolls in so they would hug sides and bake up puffy and close. I might miss the convenience of Pilsbury buns too, but it’s hard to feel cheated when your kitchen is filled with the scent of homemade cinnamon rolls and you can excuse yourself for eating three or four since you made them. Oh yes, I operate on a labor-based baking economy. Homemade buns mean I eat at least three, maybe four to account for inflation, and I surely dip a finger in the glaze here and there to preempt my tax refund. And even though the sounds of homemade cinnamon buns aren’t as exciting as Pilsbury’s onomatopoetics, I absolutely enjoyed the suspense of seeing (literally watching) the dough rise and hearing the cinnamon sizzle. This recipe pays off big, in aesthetics, taste, and a certain lack of nutrition facts dictating whether or not five buns is considered a single serving (it is, promise).




Cinnamon Buns with Cream Cheese Glaze
Via Bon Appétit

Dough
1 cup whole milk
3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 1/2 cups (or more) unbleached all purpose flour, divided
1/2 cup sugar
1 large egg
2 1/4 teaspoons rapid-rise or instant yeast (from 1 envelope)
1 teaspoon salt
Nonstick vegetable oil spray

Filling
3/4 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
2 tablespoons ground cinnamon (plus more if you're really into cinnamon)
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
Pinch of salt

Glaze
4 ounces cream cheese, at room temperature
1 cup powdered sugar
1/4 cup (1/2 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

For dough: Combine milk and butter in glass measuring cup. Microwave on high until butter melts and mixture is just warmed, about 30 to 45 seconds. Pour into bowl, and add 1 cup flour, sugar, egg, yeast, and salt. Beat on low speed with an eggbeater for 3 minutes, stopping occasionally to scrape down sides of bowl. Add additional 2 1/2 cups flour. Beat on low until flour is absorbed and dough is sticky, scraping down sides of bowl. If dough is very sticky, add more flour by tablespoonfuls until dough begins to form ball and pulls away from sides of bowl. Turn dough out onto lightly floured work surface. Knead until smooth and elastic, adding more flour if sticky, about 8 minutes. Form into ball.

Lightly oil large bowl with nonstick spray. Transfer dough to bowl, turning to coat. Cover bowl with plastic wrap, then kitchen towel. Let dough rise in warm draft-free area until doubled in volume, about 2 hours. I let mine rise in the oven, which had been preheated to 200 degrees F. the hour before, then turned off and left open while I prepared the dough. DC was cold that day, so the warming precaution was necessary.

For filling: Mix brown sugar, cinnamon and pinch of salt in medium bowl.

Press down dough. Transfer to floured work surface. Roll out to 15×11-inch rectangle. Spread butter over dough, leaving 1/2-inch border. Sprinkle cinnamon mixture evenly over butter. Starting at the longer side, roll dough into log, pinching gently to keep it rolled up. With seam side down, trim ends straight if they are uneven, and cut remaining dough crosswise with thin sharp knife into 18 equal slices (I made 16, so each was a little plumper).

Spray two 9-inch square glass baking dishes (I used a 9 x 14-inch rectangle dish) with nonstick spray. Divide rolls between baking dishes, arranging cut side up (there will be almost no space between rolls). Cover baking dishes with plastic wrap, then kitchen towel. Let dough rise in warm draft-free area until almost doubled in volume, 40 to 45 minutes, though this part may take you longer. I let mine rise overnight in the refrigerator, then took it out and let it come to room temperature for an hour and 15 minutes in the morning before baking.

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 375°F. Sprinkle rolls with extra cinnamon if you so desire, which I did, because cinnamon is rad and highly delicious. Bake rolls until tops are golden, about 20 minutes. Remove from oven and invert immediately onto rack. Cool 10 minutes. Turn rolls right side up (I skipped all this and glazed mine in the pan).

For glaze: Combine cream cheese, powdered sugar, butter, and vanilla in medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat until smooth. Spread glaze on rolls. Serve warm or at room temperature.

No-Nostalgia Chewy Amaretti Cookies

Just discovered: Click the photo to see a close-up of the amaretti crannies—food pornography at its finest.

There is nothing nostalgic about these cookies. "Chewy amaretti" doesn't exactly scream "childhood," and thank goodness because I am perfectly sick of nostalgia these days—no disrespect to my previously reverential posts. Simple and satisfying but wearing a fancy dress, the cookies provide respite from wanderlust and from your urgent desire to get back home. These will snap you into shape, reminding you that new good things are at your fingertips all the time, and that San Francisco is not a panacea, though it is a nice idea.

This is a delicious and welcome change from the everyday cookie—make them. Fill them with lemon curd or cherry jam. I think the chocolate ganache was a little overwhelming and that an almond-complementing jelly (raspberry or even strawberry if you have a sweet tooth) or custard (vanilla) would work best. And don't worry if you don't actually own a food processor—my housemate's coffee grinder and some of my most unheard of patience worked just fine.








I had no idea what amaretti meant before I made these. I thought it was a liqueur. If your taste-testers need help understanding what exactly it is you are foisting upon them, say these are "Italian macarons" and you'll be on the more right, less booze-guided track than I was on. Also, as you can tell from the photos, I baked cookies that were both well-done and medium-rare. I ended up preferring the lighter set, but the almond flavor is more pronounced in the darker ones. I'd say make 'em both ways.

No-Nostalgia Chewy Amaretti
Adapted from Gourmet, January 2009

1 (7-ounce) tube pure almond paste (not marzipan)
1 cup sugar
Pinch salt
2 large egg whites at room temperature for at least 30 minutes

1. Preheat oven to 300°F and line two large sheet pans with parchment paper (splurge for the parchment paper if you don't already have any!).

2. Pulse almond paste, sugar, and salt in a food processor until sandy, then add egg whites and puree until smooth. If you're me, you'll do this step in a coffee grinder, meaning that egg whites should be added in a large, separate bowl and mixed with an egg beater.

3. Transfer batter to pastry bag fitted with a 3/8-inch tip and pipe 3/4-inch rounds (1/3 inch high) about 1-inch apart in pans. Dip a fingertip in water and gently tamp down any peaks. When I read that step, I saw a bunch of numbers flying at me and decided to just cut the corner off a sandwich bag and pipe out rounds through that until I thought they were big enough—about the size of quarters.

4. Bake, rotating and switching position of pans halfway through (but only if you don't want to test the light-dark thing), until golden and puffed, 15 to 18 minutes.

5. Let cookies cool almost completely in their pans. Once cool, lift the parchment off the pans and slide the cookies off with a spatula. Sandwich the cookies using jam (cherry! apricot!), ganache (about 4 ounces semi-sweet chips to 2 tablespoons heavy cream), or a custard.

Eat, enjoy, and forget about San Francisco—they don't have chewy amaretti cookies there anyway.

Kale Rebellion: Double Chocolate Rads

Well I have certainly been having an embarrassing time at the grocery store lately. Last week after leaving the gym, I stopped at my neighborhood grocery store (understocked and overpriced as is the DC way) and pranced around the baking and dairy aisles looking for ingredients for one set of cookies and anticipating ingredients for the next. I ended up at the checkout aisle behind another young woman who had also just left the gym and who had actually been walking in front of me and down most of the same aisles during my ingredient-finding endeavor. The difference was that somehow her basket was filled with produce, dried fruits, nuts, whole grain everything, and enough plain yogurt to make this creamy-grits-wielding, yogurt-scoffing baker feel ashamed of her chocolate cache.

My tiny kitchen (employed by six people) makes multi-tasking a necessity.

Behind my fellow gym-goer’s sort of beautiful and rather inspiring lode of healthy food, I plunked down four pounds of butter, two pounds of bittersweet chocolate, two bags of semi-sweet chips, some heavy cream, all-purpose flour, and a head of purple cabbage to confuse anyone who might have been wondering what sort of flagrant disregard for diabetes and cholesterol I have. My gym pal eyed my soon-to-be-purchases and assessed my gym outfit and my flushed cheeks before I asked her save my place in line while I ran 15 feet to the produce section. I returned triumphantly with a bunch of kale, which I laid conspicuously atop my butter, leaving that gym-going girl to wonder bemusedly what sort of diet I must be playing at. In any case, this was neither the first nor last time I have left a grocery store feeling rather shamed, but it is the first time that I felt pressure to buy kale to make up for it.

See how airy the batter is? Those bubbles signify ungodly delicious things.

Well, I guess I was hoping that the kale would be some sort of talisman to ward off my bad habits and sugar binges, but that forgotten green bundle sat around in my vegetable crisper until it wilted. Apparently, I had bigger, sweeter things to worry about. I don’t want to get into the habit of proclaiming “favorites” and “bests” on this blog because I don’t want to have to stop baking at recipe number 10 and admit that I don’t have anything amazing left to make. With a resounding however, however, I have to say that that chocolate cookies that resulted from my shaming shopping experience were the singly most delicious cookies I have had in years. I might insert my big foot into my big mouth later this month when I take a stab at the famous World Peace Cookies, but until then, I have to assert that these Chocolate Rads are, quite simply, tops. My sweets-loathing friend referred to them as “incredible,” and they made my CFO stop mid-sentence and mid-bite to utter a mild expletive and turn really far-away-eyed and quiet.

Like the crackled crust of the pound cake, these crinkled tops were nearly impossible not to detach and eat alone.

This reminds me that I have been very content to cook on Sundays these days since I can foist my leftover baked goods upon unsuspecting, Monday-bummed coworkers. Last Sunday was no exception. After a baby mouse (not as cute as he sounds) made a throne atop my Sunday-afternoon oatmeal cookies (which I promptly threw into the trash), I decided to double-do my Sunday and go for the Chocolate Rads I’d been drooling over on Orangette for weeks. Well, their crispy crust is reminiscent of pecan crackles and other cookies that rely on egg whites, but this recipe relies on chocolate. The batter is so fluffy, yielding, and rich, it has the texture of softened rocky road ice cream without the nuts. A brief round in the fridge makes the batter workable before you drop it by hearty scoopfulls onto baking sheets and let the oven do its alchemy. Actually, before the melted chocolate is added, the batter has an airy texture not dissimilar from fresh meringue. In any case, these cookies are delicious and dangerous, and even though I accidentally left them at home Monday, they held up perfectly in the designated cookie tupperware until Tuesday, and my coworkers appreciated the crinkly shell and gooey interior just as much as I had on Sunday night.

I make no excuses. Four of these composed my Monday-morning breakfast.

So even though my Thursday night ended in post-gym sheepishness, my weekend was without kale and my Sunday culminated a chocolate bliss that was a subtly and just-so rebellious way to ring in a new workweek. When kale is unthinkable, I'd rather rejoice with cookies than sulk with a carrot, so enjoy! Again, coffee is the perfect accompaniment, and if you're a fruity type like my mother, a swath of good cherry jam might be the perfect breakfast accessory.

I love how distinct the skyline of the chocolate-y shell is in this picture. The insides gush with chips and a soft center that contrasts satisfyingly with the cookie's crackled outsides.

Chocolate Rads
Adapted from Bon Appétit and via Orangette

1 pound bittersweet chocolate, chopped (I used Ghiaradelli)
1 ¾ cups granulated sugar
4 large eggs
4 Tbs unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
1 Tbs pure vanilla extract
1 tsp instant espresso
½ cup cake flour (I used all-purpose, and it worked fine, but the original calls for cake)
1 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
2 cups (about one bag) good-quality semisweet chocolate chips (I used Guittard)

1. Melt the bittersweet chocolate in a double-boiler or metal bowl set over gently simmering water. Stir until smooth, then remove from heat, and set aside.

2. In a large bowl, combine the sugar and eggs, and beat with an electric mixer until thick and pale yellow and somewhat fluffy, about three to five minutes. Add the melted chocolate, melted butter, vanilla extract, and espresso powder, and beat to mix thoroughly.

3. Sift the flour, baking powder, and salt into small bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the chocolate mixture, and stir with a rubber spatula to just combine. (The batter will be sticky and hard to work with, but it's okay!) Stir in chocolate chips. Place the bowl in the refrigerator, and chill until the batter is firm, for about 30 minutes.

4. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Either lightly butter and flour two large cookie sheets or, better yet, line them with parchment paper. Drop the batter by large scoops – I used an ice cream scoop and a big spoon, both at about two tablespoons each – onto sheets, leaving about two inches of space around each mound of dough. With moist fingertips, press down on each ball to flatten it slightly. Bake the cookies until tops look dry and crackled, about 11-13 minutes. Do not overbake. Transfer the cookies on the parchment paper to a wire rack, and allow to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough, remembering to keep the dough in the fridge between each set of cookies. Remove finished cookies from the parchment paper, and store them in airtight container.

Note: I froze a portion of these cookies for my housemates, and they were delicious once restored to room temperature, and even a little delicious still frozen. They hold up wonderfully to a frozen wait!

Do It Better than Sara Lee

I fear that I might be setting a bad precedent here. First with the boxed brownie praise, and now I am going to confess another unrespectable crush from my childhood relationship with baked goods. I, dear reader(s), was mighty obsessed with Sara Lee pound cake. Truly. The cardboard label atop the buttery brick of a cake was held in place by a roll-up-roll-down aluminum frame, whose ridges I would ceremoniously pry up one by one until the cardboard top had been released from its holder, and I was free to dive into the cake. “Plunge” might be a more accurate verb since it better connotes the cake’s bulky thickness; Sara Lee never made a light and gracious pound cake.

I had to splurge for an egg beater--finally! It is necessary to have some sort of butter-whipping device, or a very strong and committed arm, to make this cake.

I must admit that I even had a favorite knife for cutting the cake. It was a mock-pearl-handled silver knife with brass screws and a serrated edge—it cut the cake into smooth, crumbs-intact slices. I used to spin circles on my family’s wooden bar stools, eating one thick slice after another with piles of Reddi Whipped Cream (oh, cringe again!) and strawberries if they were around. A few times, I tried broiling slices of pound cake with honey in our oven, but for some sugary reason the habit never caught on. In any case, that cake was the stuff of after-school dreams. Buttery as all hell and with a smooth crumb and a delightfully browned crust, I don’t mean to sing its praises so heartily, but my goodness, was it ever a mighty fine cake.

Good gracious. This crackled crust is the most delicious. I would slice it off and eat it alone were that not arguably an act of baking sacrilege.

Fast forward to the maturation of my taste buds, and you’ll see that I have come very far in my development of a properly discerning palate. Like brownies, however, pound cake has frequently lurked beneath my homebaking adult radar because I’ve had a hard time imagining the dessert in any form other than coffin-shaped and heavy as a brick. After making a few lemon pound cakes here and there, but not really liking them at all, I sort of forgot about pound cake. At my favorite cafe in Berkeley, I would always bypass the pound cake for a vegan cookie, a chocolate cupcake, or a few macaroons. Well, along came a recipe for cream cheese pound cake via Deb over at Smitten Kitchen, and I realized that it had been some years since I’d even attempted to recall the taste of such a cake. Suddenly those chocolate cupcakes I’d been meaning to make took a backseat. So did the lemon meringue pie, the pistachio-cherry chocolate squares, and the chocolate chip gingersnaps. I refreshed Deb’s pictures of the cake for days before I finally found a decent excuse (Lady Adventure Evening) to try out the recipe on some similarly food-inclined friends.

You can see at the bottom where the cake sunk a bit, but it didn't get gummy, just richer and more delicious.

Let me cut to the chase and tell you that there was not a crumb of disappointment. This pound cake tastes, looks, smells, and feels spectacular. It rose marvelously, and while it did sink a touch, I am convinced this was because my Bundt pan is ten cups when it should be 12, and so the cake did not have enough support. But the vanilla taste is smooth and inviting, the crumbs are velvety, and the cake is thick and buttery without being dense or gummy. What’s more, the addition of cream cheese makes a delightful crackled crust that is nearly impossible not to pick off and eat once the cake is out of the oven. This is a tremendous cake. I can only provide so much external feedback, because between my six friends and I, this cake for 12 was gone in two days. What’s worse is that this cake gets better with age, or sweeter anyway. I had a slice for breakfast with a heaping cup of coffee in the cake’s fortieth hour, and it was even more delicious that it had been straight out of the oven. Without further ado, I should present the recipe to you, with the suggestion to stick with the almond extract--overwhelming though I know it can be--and adapt as you see fit. I think it would be delicious with some crystallized ginger thrown in or eaten with some fresh berries. At ladies' night, we topped ours with mango, and if you were so inclined, I think a mango coulis would be good because you could get a spoonful of syrup with every bite. Seriously though, this cake is delicious plain, and with a twirl of honey and a handful of chopped almonds, you could have yourself a pretty impressive brunch contribution. Bake away and let me know what you think!

Cream Cheese Pound Cake
By Way of Smitten Kitchen

Here I must implore to you get a baking thermometer. I recently discovered that my oven is a whole 25 degrees cooler than it should be. This will be the best six bucks that Target ever set you back if you're a committed baker. And if you're not a committed or ever a frequent baker, I still highly recommend one because it's made my relationship with my oven tons more harmonious.

1 1/2 cups (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 package (8 ounces) cream cheese, at room temperature
3 cups sugar
6 large eggs
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract plus 1/2 teaspoon almond extract
3 cups all purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt

1. Preheat the oven to 325°F. Lightly butter and flour a 12-cup Bundt pan.

2. Place the butter and cream cheese in a large bowl and beat with a mixer on medium speed until smooth. Add the sugar, increase the speed to high, and beat until light and airy, at least five minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating after each addition and scraping down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula as needed. Add the vanilla, almond, then the flour and salt all at once. Beat just until incorporated.

3. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and even out the top with a rubber spatula or by shaking gently. Bake until the cake is golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the cake comes out clean, 1 1/4 hours.

4. Place the pan on a cake rack and cool for 20 minutes, then remove the cake from the pan and let it cool completely. Serve at room temperature.

Pudding Packet Revolution

I grew up baking brownies from a Duncan Hines box. I'm not certain I know anyone who really didn't, and I remember feeling revolutionized when they added pudding packets to the mix. I don't like to credit boxed mixes with having too much to do with my baking upbringing, but I reveled in measuring out my three-fourth cups of oil perfectly and cracking the single egg directly into the powdery center of my baking bowl. I think that the pudding packet is what gave me my taste for dense, fudgey brownies that have some structural integrity, but are most lovable for their profound, chocolate overload.

Ghiradelli 100% unsweetened chocolate, chopped for Cook's Illustrated batch

I'm not sure that brownies and I got off to the proper start through. I can claim an early love of the aforementioned DH pudding semi-masterpieces--though I wouldn't touch boxed brownies now unless you menaced me--but the first time I baked brownies from scratch was when I was going through my requisite vegan phase at Berkeley. What eventually became my go-to recipe impressed the hell out of me because until then, my vegan dessert staple had been a scoop (or several) of peanut butter, rolled in chocolate chips and coconut. I guess my brownie bar was set pretty low, and it wasn't until I started feeling serious about baking that I realized that my brownie repertoire was in dire need of some updating. I had always been scared to bake brownies from scratch, however, because their deliciousness is seriously embedded into my memories of childhood, and I was nervous to upset the nostalgia.

Cook's Illustrated final product--a touch underbaked, but cohesive, delicious squares

A good brownie, in my opinion, is the best inducer of childhood indulgence. It should be undeniably rich but not overly so, fudgey in the middle with a satisfyingly crisp outer shell. Crumbs should be manageably sticky, but not gummy, and I prefer a deep dark chocolate to the pale and milky sort that leads to a rather Play-Doh-tasting brownie. This may be a holdover from my vegan days, but I think that a cold glass of almond milk is a terrific accompaniment, since its nutty flavor cuts through the chocolate and brings out all that is deep and earthy about proper brownies.

Cook's Illustrated stacks--crackly shells with a soft, thick interior

In my quest to pinpoint exactly which brownie satisfies my demanding and indulgent need for baked goods, I narrowed down my recipe bloc to two contenders that have been beckoning to me for months now. The first is a product of Cook's Illustrated wiz Erica Bruce, and the recipe was published as the perfect response to our childhood need for decadence with simplicity. The second comes from the two fellows behind Brooklyn's inspiring (seriously, inspiring--their baked goods are so toothsome) Baked bakery in Red Hook.

Baked version--ungodly rich and so fudgey, underbaked in spite of an additional 20 minutes of oven time

The first three photos in this post are from the Cook's Illustrated recipe, which uses an amount of chocolate that is modest compared to the Baked brownie, and swaps out all-purpose flour for cake flour which reduces the granular feeling that can sometimes accompany baked goods that use quite a bit of white sugar. The CI version baked nearly to perfection, even though I have a tendency to underbake (I will readily eat an overbaked brownie, but the texture reminds me too much of dry, store-bought cake to be thoroughly enjoyable), and the taste and texture were everything I needed: crackled exterior, rich, fudgey middle, and with an expansive chocolate taste that made it nearly impossible to stop myself from eating four in a row. These brownies were ever better on the second day, and next time I make them, I think I will refrigerate the batter for a few hours before baking, to allow the egg to thoroughly absorb the dry ingredients and promote that fugdey taste that is so crucial. The Baked ones would have been delicious over ice cream, but alone, they were simply too rich for me (who thought this day would ever come!). The Baked brownie uses two types of chocolate and is absolutely, deliciously decadent, but I prefer the simplicity of the Cook's Illustrated brownie. I think with its incredibly deep chocolate profile, however, the Baked brownie would take a spice (such as smoked paprika) or a stripe of caramel nicely. Let me know if you try anything!

Classic Brownie
Cook's Illustrated

1¼ cups cake flour
½ teaspoon salt
¾ teaspoon baking powder
6 ounces unsweetened chocolate, chopped fine
12 tablespoons (1½ sticks) unsalted butter, cut into six 1-inch pieces
2¼ cups sugar
4 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract

1. Adjust oven rack to middle position; heat oven to 325 degrees. Cut 18-inch length foil and fold lengthwise to 8-inch width. Fit a length of two of foil into a 13 by 9-inch baking dish, pushing it into corners and up sides of pan; allow excess to overhand pan edges. Spray foil-lined pan with nonstick cooking spray.

2. Whisk to combine flour, salt, and baking powder in medium bowl; set aside.

3. Melt chocolate and butter in large heatproof bowl set over saucepan of almost-simmering water, stirring occasionally, until smooth. When chocolate mixture is completely smooth, remove bowl from saucepan and gradually whisk in sugar. Add eggs on at a time, whisking after each addition until thoroughly combined. Whisk in vanilla. Add flour mixture in three additions, folding with rubber spatula until batter is completely smooth and homogeneous.

5. Transfer batter to prepared pan; using spatula, spread batter into corners of pan and smooth surface. Bake until toothpick inserted into center of brownies comes out with few moist crumbs attached, 30 to 35 minutes. Cool on wire rack to room temperature, about 2 hours, then remove brownies from pan by lifting foil overhang. Cut and serve brownies, and keep remainders in the freezer to eat at your leisure.

Baked Brownie
From the folks at Baked bakery

1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons dark unsweetened cocoa powder
11 ounces dark chocolate (60 to 72% cacao), coarsely chopped
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch pieces
1 teaspoon instant espresso powder
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
1/2 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
5 large eggs, at room temperature
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Butter the sides and bottom of a 9 x 13 glass or light-colored metal baking pan.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, salt, cocoa powder (and spices if you’re using them), r.

3. Put the chocolate, butter, and instant espresso powder in a large bowl and set it over a saucepan of simmering water, stirring occasionally, until the chocolate and butter are completely melted and smooth. Turn off the heat, but keep the bowl over the water and add the sugars. Whisk until completely combined, then remove the bowl from the pan. The mixture should be room temperature.

4. Add 3 eggs to the chocolate mixture and whisk until combined. Add the remaining eggs and whisk until combined. Add the vanilla and stir until combined. Do not overbeat the batter at this stage or your brownies will be cakey.

5. Sprinkle the flour mixture over the chocolate mixture. Using a spatula (not a whisk), fold the flour mixture into the chocolate until just a bit of the flour mixture is visible.

6. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake in the center of the oven for 30 minutes (I had to bake for 50, to no avail), rotating the pan halfway through the baking time, until a toothpick inserted into the center of the brownies comes out with a few moist crumbs sticking to it. Let the brownies cool completely, then cut them int osquares and serve.