Feb 12, 2020: Blondie

I spent quite a while this afternoon cooking some rhubarb and custard blondies.

I made rhubarb jam for the top of it. I spent ages waiting for my sugar and butter mix to cool before I added the eggs so that they wouldn’t cook in the mixture and leave bits of scrambled egg throughout the mixture.

I sifted. I beat. I folded.

I did all the things.

I ran out of space in the kitchen at least twice. I used more bowls than anyone should ever need to use. I managed to get some left over rhubarb – from the thinnest stalks you have ever seen in your life – into the freezer for I don’t know what but it’ll have to involve the need for small rhubarb.

I did all sorts.

And then it all went wrong.

I used too large a tray, I think. So it was too thin. But it rose beautifully.

I cooked it for way longer than it needed to, because when it wasn’t setting.

And even when it was set, it was still pretty raw in the middle.

It was a bloomin’ disaster. Basically.

The first cooking fail of 2020, I think. But I remained calm and collected throughout.

I’ve regrouped. I’ve searched the kitchen high and low for a more suitable cooking vessel to use. I’m back in the saddle on Friday, probably. After I have sourced some more rhubarb and some smaller eggs on the morrow. That was the other thing – the recipe called for medium eggs, I only had large. Which then led to me having to look up the conversion of egg sizes, and the ratios of eggs to flour and the like in cakes. Which was more research than I’ve ever had to do before.

And it still turned out bobbins.

But what’s worse is that it smelled delicious at every stage. There’s something innately tasty about butter and sugar. Throw in some custard, vanilla and rhubarb and it’s an olfactory sensation. And the customary lick of the spatula, post transfer to the tin showed that the batter was, indeed, delicious.

It just would have been nice if it had cooked properly, and not just gathered all the raw stuff in the middle – and the majority of the rhubarb and custard swirl to boot – to taunt me.

I won’t let it beat me, though.

I will melt butter and sugar together for as long as it takes for this to turn out properly…