Stay Puffed
This week, I open my blog with a confession: I, Sarah Cahalan, have never seen Ghostbusters.
That may not come as a surprise to those who know me well, considering I’ve seen hardly anything made prior to 2002 that is not a movie musical. What’s more, in the case of Ghostbusters, I have no real desire to go out and watch the thing. But if my cursory understanding of the film is correct, I know that the (or at least a) villain is a large, possessed marshmallow — and that, after my latest bake, is something I can relate to.
The latest recipe in the book was for Marshmallow Peanut Butter Brownies. I like brownies and peanut butter and I tolerate marshmallows, so I figured this would be a fine entry in the annals of my baking journey.
But, my friends, I underestimated the chaos agency of marshmallow fluff.
From the outset, that part of the recipe gave me some trouble, for the simple reason that half-liquid marshmallow is about as easy to work with as tar. I spent a long and arduous time attempting to dollop my half-cup of fluff over my brownie batter, then proceeded to drag it all over the pan when I tried to swirl, since it was twice as dense as anything else in the recipe.
Finally, though, I got it in the oven — and then it grew. Every marshmallow dollop in this recipe tripled in size while it baked. They grew out, and, when they ran out of space for that, they grew up, eventually gaining such height that they’d likely have hit the other oven rack had I not baked them on the top shelf. It was ridiculous.
Perhaps because of these structural obstacles, the brownies took about ten minutes longer than the recipe said they would, and, when I took them out, I genuinely wondered how I could even eat a brownie that’s four inches tall. I set them on the counter to cool, retreated to watch Into the Woods — told you about those musicals — and, when I returned, discovered that the marshmallow bits had collapsed into flat, rock-hard slabs of what I can only describe as sidewalk. I puzzled again over how to eat this freshly challenging dish, returned once more to my film, and decided to deal with it later.
The key thing I did here, in retrospect, was popping a lid on my pan. The brownies were still a bit warm when I closed them up, and I think the warmth helped re-soften the marshmallow bits. In any case, when I finally cut one out, I could eat it without breaking a tooth or dislocating my jaw — which, for this saga, I’d call a success.
In the end, I wouldn’t recommend these puffy, temperamental bois unless you are a massive fan of both peanut butter and ‘mallows. Since I am not, they’re just okay, and okay is not enough to erase the chaos that went into their making. The next recipe offers peanut butter a standalone chance to redeem itself, so stay tuned to find out how that goes. ‘Til then, stay puffed!