4.06.2008

Brownie w/ Nutella Sauce


I just learned that Nutella can be thinned with milk and turned into a delicious sauce.

6 comments:

tooknap press said...

In 1988, I hid a container of Nutella in the back of my left-hand desk drawer and surreptitiously ate it in fat spoonfuls late at night and certain afternoons.

Last week I had homemade hazelnut gelato in Los Feliz. Which was the greater pleasure?

Erk said...

The older I get, the more I think that intensity diminishes with age: my world was shaken with great regularity before I turned-- say-- 25, but not so much these days. (I recently moaned to Kenneth, "But I don't want to learn any more ugly lessons about the world!!") Also, when it comes to pleasures, the hidden is often more provocative than the homemade. I vote for 1988 desk-drawer Nutella (despite my greater desire for the gelato).

tooknap press said...

the Nutella offered a darker thrill, made all the more potent by adolescent defiance dosed with guilt. the gelato was auburn, well-crafted, delicious, but I've already forgotten what it tasted like, while the Nutella afterburn still hangs at the back of my throat.

I hold on to hope that intensity ebbs and flows, or that at the very least, if our worlds are no longer shaken at the drop of a hat, we're still able to register sensation and feeling with acuity (dare I say it, sophistication?), in memoriam to the sharp, sweet, earth-shattering pang.

Erk said...

Oh yes: I haven't lost my register for sensation and feeling. I'm no titanium alloy. If my talk of diminished intensity seems cynical, I must point out that I'm not sure I could sustain persistent earth-shattering pangs. I love the notion of living in memorium of past intensities. Perhaps that begins to explain my obsession with adolescence.

Also so important to live in memorium of childish vision. But, as with an existence shaken at the drop of a hat, I would never want to return to childhood.

tooknap press said...

Word. And you didn't sound cynical at all! I can easily romanticize the weird promise that having my earth shattered seemed to offer (I'm thinking here about college & early twenties), but am SO grateful I'm no longer there... what I want to return to, and what is beginning to return to me, is a sense of enthusiasm, joy, possibility, play... as long as I can shush the naysaying voices (yay, panopticon) and strip away the resentment that gunks up the works. . .

Erk said...

Double word! I gotta create faster processes for stripping away the gunk.

Now, off to work. Must work.