Saturday, 6 January 2007
Treachery by chocolate
It's been one of those weeks. One hospitalised parent, two unplanned haircuts, a whole new year to wrestle to the ground. I reckoned a batch of therapeutic chocolate vegan East German traffic-light-man biscuits wouldn't go astray.
The recipe is my own, inspired by the chocolate vegan cookies I met back in my North Carolina days. Those guys were sumpin' else: 75c, as big as a saucer, crumbly round the edges, moist in the middle, just the thing to wash down a hard day speaking Americanese to hat-tippin', grits-n-gravy eatin', polite-as-pie southerners (wha, thank you, ma'am). And, of course, being vegan and all, they spoke profoundly to my inner half-baked lefty. "Eat us", they cooed, "And it will be just like you've personally smashed the patriarchy, abolished the death penalty, saved a rainforest and provided free health care for a family of impoverished Somalians."
My biscuits will never be the same as North Carolina's. I figure a state that boasts deep fried cola has a secret ingredient up its sleeve of which I will remain forever ignorant. But they're pretty darn good. Nay, even medicinal. And today's effort was going swimmingingly, until my inner half-baked lefty reached for a barely cooled East German traffic-light-man and that self-important cracker went and BURNT MY FINGER. The culprit, a still bubbling choc bit, hotter than the rest of the biscuit.
Yes, chocolate. Yes, my first love.
It's time for a divorce.