Sisterhood, as with baking, can engage one in a bit of a love/hate relationship. One moment, it’s filled with the promise of sweetness and fluffy satisfaction, and in another in which you find yourself contemplating how your brain hasn’t melted out your ears yet. Being the newbies to the group that we are, we were quite excited that this week’s recipe implied that sweet, fluffy, indulgent excellence was to be had at the end of the process. With careful guidance from our aunt, we laid out the necessary ingredients and quickly delegated the tasks…well…sort of. After bickering for a few moments over who got to mix in the dry ingredients, my resolve broke and my sister was charged with the leveling and pouring of the flour, sugar, etc. for the crust which, in retrospect, was probably for the better since patient measurement had a tendency to frustrate me.
When it came time to roll out the dough to be chilled, it became a team effort to roll it out while trying to keep it from falling apart (a little easier than it sounds, granted). After a couple of half hour breaks for waiting for a) the crust to chill then b) to bake (and managing to squeeze in our weekly dose of the Mentalist), what came out of the oven ended up looking, well, pretty darn good if I did say so myself.
I am more of the mix-it-up-and-make-a-mess type of baker, so I was charged with the (epically) awesome task of chopping the chocolate in preparation to melt it down to the warm, gooey base into which my sister’s egg and vanilla mix she’d been working on would fall prey to being folded into. After my sister carefully, nearly expertly, filled the crust with the filling, we stuck it in the oven, holding our breath in anticipation for what was to come (or, in my case, have a nap). Now, it sits on our grandmother’s dining room table, beckoning with its chocolatey siren call while we wait for it to cool. Only a matter of minutes now….