Cinnamon Walnut Brownies

Or, the dangers of biking in Philadelphia.

What do you do when you’re upset? I’ve tried a lot of things in my life, although I do not typically go for the stereotypical “eat a gallon of ice cream” approach. I prefer to bake enough for a small continent.

I’ve gotten used to the idea that biking in Philadelphia is fraught with hazards. Drivers barely follow even the most basic rules of the road (like, stopping at stop lights that are actually red), and when you throw 150 lbs of human and bike into the mix, the results are frequently very bad.

One time my student runners and I tried to list all of the things that are usually in the bike lane OTHER than the bicycles. Here’s what we came up with:

• The bus. Oh my god. The bus. Bus drivers have their own separate set of spatial realities whereby them being present in the bike lane negates my actual existence. “If I just DRIVE here, the bicyclist will disappear.” Very true, it turns out.
• And the people getting in and out of the bus.
• Parked cars
• Moving cars
• Cars that claim to be parked but are in fact moving
• Car doors, suddenly and unexpectedly, often accompanied by a person
• Merging vehicles (mostly taxis, who seem cheerfully oblivious to my existence or the extra 3 feet of space allotted to me in the road, although my first experience with vehicle-bicycle contact was when a large van merged through the bike lane and clipped me with his rear view mirrors.)
• Moving trucks
• The movers in possession of the moving trucks
• The food cart
• The food cart’s generator
• A backhoe
• Gravel piles
• Construction materials
• The remnants of someone’s driver’s side window
• A hubcap
• A man in a wheelchair driving the wrong direction (I’d do it too if I were him: some of the sidewalks could classify for an equestrian dressage course).
• Pedestrians, runners, and other bipeds (sidewalk excuse does not apply)
• Potholes, potholes, and more potholes.
• And the usual assortment of nails, screws, and other random object spelling imminent doom for my poor bike tires.

For all of you who feel rage when you see bikers anywhere but the bike lane, I would like to point out the obvious: there’s not much room left for us in the bike lane.

The other things cars around here don’t really do is stop. For anything. Stop signs, yellow lights, pedestrians, and certainly not bikes. Where I grew up, the rule for a stop sign is that you stop, and then you take turns. The lady who almost t-boned me (six inches from catastrophe) this evening on my way home apparently operates by the rule: “as soon as the person in front of me goes I floor it, even if there is someone actually IN the intersection.” (That person in the intersection was me. I waited my turn. I assumed she would wait hers. Whoops.)

Reaction part one: I scream “Oh my f***ing god!” as I veer violently to the left in my effort to avoid getting hit.

Reaction part two: burst into tears. Full on sobbing. Not that this is exactly a rare occurrence with me, but this was special.

Reaction part three: joke with the nice ladies who came to check on me when they saw me sitting on my bike sobbing about the level of profanity that comes out of my mouth when someone nearly hits me. They were lovely. I wish I had gotten their names so I could bring them some of the brownies I’m about to make.

My zen moment:

As I said, when I’m upset, I like to bake. Nothing fancy. Just the kind of thing that makes me think of my mom, snowstorms as a five year old, and being tucked into bed with a cup of tea.

This is based on another favorite from the Joy of Cooking. I’m a big fan because they basically give you permission to play around with the amount of chocolate and butter. Upset me says, “More butter!”

As with most of their recipes, in the book, this one appears with the ingredients interspersed with the directions and special tips. I'm going to break with that tradition here (although I love it), because I have my own comments about the ingredients.

Cinnamon Walnut Brownies (inspired by the near disaster, the Joy of Cooking, and the movie Chocolat. . . I know, how ridiculous).

Ingredients:

1. Chocolate and butter. In this recipe, they say that the proportions are negotiable. I took them seriously. If you like to follow the rules, you need 1/2 cup butter and 4 oz unsweetened baking chocolate. I added a little bit more of both.
2. 4 eggs at room temperature. Or as close to that as you are patient enough to get. 
3. 1/2 teaspoon salt
4. 2 cups sugar
5. 1 teaspoon vanilla
6. 1 cup sifted all-purpose flour. Maybe you don't have to sift, but if you're going to go to all the trouble to get your eggs nice and foamy (more about that later), you might as well sift. Plus, it's only one cup. In this case, sift first, then measure.
7. 1 cup walnuts (I like these better than the recommended pecans) and 1 cup chocolate chips (not at all part of the original recipe. What can I say. I had a bad day.)
8. Cinnamon. I didn't measure. I just started sprinkling. Irresponsible? Yes. Delicious? Duh.

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 
2. Melt the chocolate and butter in a double boiler. In my case, that means a pot with boiling water and a pyrex bowl balanced on top. Let this cool. Go do something else for a while, especially if your eggs are still cold.
3. Beat the eggs and salt with a hand mixer until they are light and foamy. Literally, the volume should increase, and it should look like light yellow egg froth. 
4. Gradually beat in the sugar and vanilla. By the end of this, you should have a very thick, foamy substance that looks like it could be turned into some delicious meringue-like substance. After you are done with this, put the beater away.
5. Partially fold in the chocolate-butter mix with "a few swift strokes." When not-quite-blended, do the same with the flour. Before the flour is fully mixed in, add the extras (walnuts, chocolate chips, liberal sprinkling of cinnamon).
6. It is possible that there is a better time to add the cinnamon. I don't know what it is. 
7. Pour into a pan (9x9, 13x9, something close to that), and bake for 25 minutes. Or something like that. My experience with brownies says that you don't really want to do overdo the cooking because dry brownies are gross. Better to take it out a bit early than a bit late. Especially since they'll be sitting in the pan until cool and therefore continuing to bake a bit.

I’m now going to go stuff my face with warm brownies and go do yoga with the lovely and talented Tanya. And perhaps not get back on my bike for a while. Although I sure do feel better now.

p.s. why have I never had cinnamon in brownies before?