I’ve woken up several times this past week craving something chocolaty (no big surprise there) at five in the morning. I’ve been a good girl and haven’t acted upon it. I get ready for the gym and pick out my clothes for work and head out for a good cardio session. However, the craving brings to mind when I was young and chubby and breakfast could have very well been synonymous with dessert. This was also before I really picked up the baking bug and boxed mixes pass as homemade to a nine year old.
There was always something for dessert at home and occasionally or maybe it was more than occasionally my mother would bake brownies on Friday to sustain through the weekend. She’d bake them in a casserole dish so that they were real thick and gooey in the middle. The middle piece was always fought over and eventually we had to take turns. She also always added semi-sweet chocolate morsels to the batter which to me make a brownie.
My father always worked on Saturdays, so my mother and her two chocolate-loving daughters were left alone to be naughty. Sundays we usually had the traditional breakfast at home-pancakes, eggs, bacon, hash browns, etc. or go out for breakfast. To my mom, it just didn’t make sense to make the same fuss two days in a row especially when there were perfectly acceptable brownies that needed to be eaten. I don’t ever remember complaining or turning one down but as I got older I did joke about how “healthy” we were being. My mother’s response was very sincere–brownies aren’t so different from pancakes or muffins!
We’d cut a nice square piece of brownie and fill up a mug of milk. I usually ate it sitting on the couch or cross-legged on the floor while I watched television: Tom & Jerry, X-Men, and then begin the series of feel-good movies on TNT. Don’t get me wrong, I probably had a stomach ache afterwards but nothing that outweighed the smile that eating a brownie for breakfast brought to my face.