It was the boyfriend's birthday yesterday (happy birthday darling) and his special request was that I bake the obligatory cakes to take in for his colleagues. I don't know why it has become de rigeur these days in offices, at least in London, for the birthday boy or girl to bring the cakes rather than being supplied with cakes by their adoring coworkers, but we must work with modern mores as we find them.
So how to prove to a whole office of people you don't know that you are the champion of cakes? No ability here to warm them up with lemon syrup, chocolate peanut butter icing or any of the other delights with which I have wooed my own colleagues. No, we needed to get hardcore. We needed to get serious. We needed Lucy's World Famous Triple Chocolate Brownies.
So how to prove to a whole office of people you don't know that you are the champion of cakes? No ability here to warm them up with lemon syrup, chocolate peanut butter icing or any of the other delights with which I have wooed my own colleagues. No, we needed to get hardcore. We needed to get serious. We needed Lucy's World Famous Triple Chocolate Brownies.
The above are some of the few I managed to annex for my own office. As you can see, they are chocolatey in the extreme. The recipe is a jealously-guarded secret from most people, but the batter is made with a lot of finest quality, high-cocoa dark chocolate, and large chunks of milk and white chocolate abound (the white being most obvious in photos). They are a heart attack on a plate, but I guarantee you'll die happy.
Why "world famous"? Well, I've certainly taken them as gifts all over Europe (America won't let me in with them, the fools), and they've been dispatched all over the UK by post. But this really stems from when my dear friend N was out teaching in a remote village near Kathmandu for several months, eating nothing but lentil stew for every single meal. N, already a fan of the brownies, told his fellow teachers and they begged me to send them some as respite from the horrors of yet more pulses. I tried, I really did, but the cheapest courier that would have got them there before they went funny was about £80, and we were all penniless students at the time so no deal, but I did send out batches to any of them who asked when they finished their travels.
Enough blowing my own brownie trumpet, although I heard the boyfriend may be in line for a promotion as a result. To celebrate further, we went to Shunt (again!) and were pleased to discover a bucolic scene filling the club, with real grass, flowers, birdsong, basins of wet sand to make sandcastles, and giant swan carriages. The boyfriend's alter ego, Dobin TheHorse (note spelling) came too, and we all had a go. Here's me as Dobin offering a ride to a random bloke who engaged Dobin in conversation. He didn't seem to mind at all, and Dobin thought it was excellent training for today's Grand National.
Why "world famous"? Well, I've certainly taken them as gifts all over Europe (America won't let me in with them, the fools), and they've been dispatched all over the UK by post. But this really stems from when my dear friend N was out teaching in a remote village near Kathmandu for several months, eating nothing but lentil stew for every single meal. N, already a fan of the brownies, told his fellow teachers and they begged me to send them some as respite from the horrors of yet more pulses. I tried, I really did, but the cheapest courier that would have got them there before they went funny was about £80, and we were all penniless students at the time so no deal, but I did send out batches to any of them who asked when they finished their travels.
Enough blowing my own brownie trumpet, although I heard the boyfriend may be in line for a promotion as a result. To celebrate further, we went to Shunt (again!) and were pleased to discover a bucolic scene filling the club, with real grass, flowers, birdsong, basins of wet sand to make sandcastles, and giant swan carriages. The boyfriend's alter ego, Dobin TheHorse (note spelling) came too, and we all had a go. Here's me as Dobin offering a ride to a random bloke who engaged Dobin in conversation. He didn't seem to mind at all, and Dobin thought it was excellent training for today's Grand National.
Hangover notwithstanding, today marked the first real progress in the Great Knitting Versus Climbing Challenge, with Gail making it to the climbing wall! Now just have to get him to start his scarf...
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