Where to begin, really? Since the beginning of March when I last wrote something here, the world has changed rather dramatically. Plot twist, as they say! Like many of you, I’m not quite able to articulate much about the present circumstances. (Thank goodness for emojis, I suppose.) There’s a lot I could say but none of it would come as much of a surprise to you—for once, we’re all experiencing a very similar mix of emotions, which creates an oddly powerful sense of solidarity.
Consider any ordinary day, before all this chaos rained down upon us. Picture yourself walking down the street, fuming in your head over some slight at work, or feeling tearful about an altercation with your boyfriend. Maybe you’d be stressed about a deadline, or worried about money, or panicked about something bigger and scarier: someone you love battling a disease, or your own health concerns, or anxiety about your children.
We’ve always known that everyone carries their own personal dramas and tragedies and triumphs around with them, but we can’t see them. We find them out through conversation and connection with friends and acquaintances, but they’re all specific to each of us. Maybe you do as I do, and write tiny histories in your head of passing strangers—piecing together a quilt of their story as you watch them hold their daughter’s hand in the park or pile their grocery cart with fresh pasta and a single shallot.
But now, all of the sudden, we are all experiencing the same sadness and grief and worry at the exact same time. Sure, it manifests itself differently in everyone’s lives—we’re all grieving the loss of the ordinariness of everyday life, and that’s different for all of us—but in a big picture sense, we’re all in the exact same spot.
It’s a bit overwhelming. I used to think that an important dynamic in a relationship was for two people always to balance each other out in crisis, such that when one person was down and out, the other was rock solid and cheerful and able to pick them up. When both people fall down at the same time, it’s tough.
It’s like that lesson in high school physics class about how the natural resonant frequency of a bridge is designed to withstand wind, but sometimes—rarely—the wind vibration matches the exact vibration of the bridge, and they amplify each other and the bridge collapses (this famously happened in 1940 with the Tacoma Narrows Bridge).
I sort of feel that way right now. On the one hand, we’re all in this together! Baking sourdough bread! Not getting our hair cut! Potentially getting wildly sick of digital connections, which would be a gorgeously golden knock-on effect of all this, if it cured us a bit of our modern addiction to devices and interacting purely through social media.
But on the other hand, it feels like too much. Our emotional issues are all operating at the same vibration, and the system feels overloaded.
Solution? Narrow the scope and widen it. Narrow the scope by filling the days with tiny, concrete tasks. Cook dinner. Clean the kitchen. Write something. Read a chapter of a book with a plate of scrambled eggs and toast while sitting outside in the sunshine. Walk to the pier in town and watch the ferries slice clean lines through the bay on their way back and forth from Shelter Island. Discover—after 33 years—that it’s actually much easier to crack an egg by gently tapping it on a flat surface (your counter) instead of the edge of a bowl. Read a good poem (see below), then send that poem to your mom and discuss, somewhat in jest but somewhat not, starting an Eensy Book Club of good bite-size poems:
On Not Posting the Bees to Instagram [Tess Taylor]
Impossible to photograph
the bees in the lavender.
Even trying to soon felt ridiculous.
They were so busy, so out of focus
that I put down the camera & let myself linger
realizing as I did
the sheet pleasure of hearing
their thrum
in the blossoms,
of glimpsing their dizzy
gold-on-purple bodies
weaving summer’s brocade
a diadem buzzing
pollen & light.
I have no photo.
Perhaps you will ponder
this note instead?
I did want to celebrate the bees
in their loudness:
I did want to broadcast my joy.
I do want to broadcast my joy too—even if it’s just to myself and the open air around me. This is how we can widen the scope. Can you take this all as an opportunity to find ways to broadcast your own joy in new ways? Without a phone or a camera but in some other way—in words, or by singing out loud in the shower, or siphoning it through a ballpoint pen onto a postcard and into the mail to a friend. Maybe broadcast it through the creases and crinkles around your eyes when you break out into a smile. Or, perhaps broadcast it by baking a pan of brownies—the smell of chocolate and melting butter wafting through the open window, the sugar-scented air rustling around the couple walking by on the sidewalk, making their day as you make your own by performing this minute, tangible task. A little kitchen magic.
And what’s more, this particular recipe that follows contains even more magic than your average brownie recipe. Here’s why: You add a bit of nut butter to make them fudgier and denser and—overall—better than others. You’ve probably seen lots of recipes for nut butter-swirled brownies, but this is NOT that. Instead of swirling it into the batter, you fold the nut butter right into the batter. Doing so means the brownies taste…like brownies, but better, with a richer flavor. I think it deepens the chocolate taste and most certainly improves the texture.
I prefer to use almond butter here, because it has a less pronounced flavor than peanut butter. If you love the taste of peanut butter, use it! Cashew butter is also great. I’ve never tried sunflower seed butter but I’m sure it would be excellent. Just be sure to use an unsweetened nut butter, otherwise the brownies will be too sweet.
Note: I haven’t tried this recipe with other similar ingredients, like tahini, but I suspect it would be delicious.
It’s also important to use a creamy nut butter rather than a crunchy one. You can use natural nut butter, but look for a creamy one, as it’ll be easier to incorporate into the batter.
Okay, onwards! Go bake!
Nut Butter Brownies
One 9” x 13” pan
8 tablespoons (113g) butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup (200g) creamy nut butter
1 3/4 cups (346g) sugar
4 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon espresso powder (optional, for enhanced chocolate flavor)
1/2 cup (42g) Dutch-process cocoa powder (see note below)
1 3/4 cups (210g) all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
1 1/2 cups (255g) chocolate chips
Note: If you don’t have Dutch-process cocoa powder, you can use natural (like Hershey’s) cocoa powder. If you do that, add 1/4 teaspoon baking soda.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Line a 9” x 13” pan with parchment and lightly grease the parchment.
In a stand mixer, beat together the butter and nut butter until smooth and fluffy, about 5 minutes on medium speed. Add the sugar and mix well, then add the eggs—one at a time—beating well between each addition. Mix in the vanilla.
Add the espresso powder (if using) and cocoa powder and mix briefly until smooth.
Add the flour, salt, and baking powder. (If you’re using natural cocoa and adding baking soda, add that here as well.) Mix until the batter is combined and no visible flour remains but don’t overmix.
Fold in the chocolate chips. Pour the batter into your prepared pan and bake for about 20 to 25 minutes, or until the top is set and a knife inserted into the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Don’t overbake! I like mine slightly underbaked, especially if I am going to freeze them.
Let the brownies cool fully before slicing.