The Twenty-Two Bite Brownie

I realize Ramadan just started, so for those observing, be mindful

Earlier this week I spent three and a half hours making a slideshow presentation. Not for a new job or anything, we’re not that far along yet. Remiel was just having a “PowerPoint Night” and I felt like I had to make a good impression on the friends of his I didn’t know. So I pretended to be an engineering physics TA going over next week’s tutorial slides, except the slides were gradually taken over by my pretend cousin’s 7th-grade science report on how cheddar cheese is made. You had to be there to really know, but it was some of my best work. Part of the reason I knew I was putting something truly special together was that the mere concept of cheesemaking cracks me up. I see those workers dressed in white, stirring a vat of hot curd, and I laugh out loud. I don’t know where it comes from, but it’s a simple pleasure that I got the opportunity to share with a willing group. And for that I’m grate-ful.

Plates of Late

O WELLL, CAPPO, SAFWME (Maia), THE BOLT, BOYSCLUB, TL IS YL¹

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I’ve spoken about cheese on the blog before. I can’t seem to get enough of it. In fact, just today I bought three different kinds of cheese—store-brand ricotta, store-brand feta, and store-brand parmesan—because nobody’s stopping me. About a month ago I got a wheel of Friulano on sale and it was delicious. It’s like if a Babybel was twenty times the size and a little less creamy. By the way, I have no intention of becoming the guy who knows a lot about cheese; in fact I’ll actively resist going down that road as long as I can. I did almost make my own goat cheese in the summer, when I couldn’t stop buying the half-off triple-bag of goat’s milk at Fortinos. That was before my student bus pass expired and I had to pay to get that way. It seems that, when left to my own devices, I naturally gravitate towards cheese. Of course, hardly anything about it is natural. You’ve all heard about the postwar U.S. cheese surplus and its resultant marketing push that we’re still feeling the effects of today. I think that’s how the story goes. All that aside, though, I know myself as someone who can’t keep food I like around for long.

It turned out olive oil was on sale for $13 a litre, so I’m back to being Italian.

Two-Bite™ brownies were on sale at Food Basics in early February. Not the little brown bags you get in corporate gift baskets, but the plastic tubs with around 30 of them inside. Being an individual with free will, I brought them home to my little living room, eating two or three while I put away the rest of my groceries. Then I had two or three more. Then about five more after that. I had them within reach of my desk; I couldn’t help it. I went out in the evening, then came back and ate 3 more while I watched an old movie. And 3 more after that, for good measure. If my clock radio were working at the time, I would have heard it flip to 2:00 a.m. before I fell asleep.

The next day I felt sick, but not in the stomach. I know I have an exceptional physical tolerance for processed sugar, so that wasn’t so much the issue. It was my soul aching. I needed to do myself right and eat no more than one brownie a day until there were none left. If you thought about it, that was like buying the brownies and eating two every day like a normal person. I made it a week before giving in, but only because I was going away the next day and the brownies would have gone stale by the time I got back. That ended up working out well, since my mom kindly (and unwittingly) sent me home from Kingston with the dry ingredients for, you guessed it, more brownies. The story repeated itself, although it was better the second time. And I’m used to the cycle now. A few years back it was the expired bakery rack at Fortinos; lately it’s bring-your-own-container day² at Bulk Barn. I get dark chocolate almonds, some kind of fruit gummy, and a bag of potato chips because they’re always on sale. Within 72 hours it’s all gone. I don’t go right back the next week, rarely more than once a month, but it’s definitely a problem. One of these days I want to get over it, but that’s not easy.

I don’t think my issue with my feverish consumption of junk food is that I’m worried about getting fat. I mean, I did grow up in the same world as everyone else, so there’s certainly an unconscious pressure to “watch my figure”. But the whole idea of dieting and meal prepping, whether to lose weight or build muscle, puts me off badly. I feel sad for people in my life who talk about counting calories or cutting things out cold-turkey, expecting quick and visible results. Since it’s still early in the year, I get loads of so-called-fitness rage-bait content on my Instagram explore page. Plain ground beef and avocado for breakfast and that sort of thing. (I don’t know why I still use that side of Instagram, other than that I’ve been using it since discovering memes at 14 and it’s still there. Generally a valueless, humiliating space to spend time in, although I get the occasional relevant job ad amid the neuron-burning reels. That’s essentially what everything is like now.) It’s not my kind of lifestyle—I like food too much to treat it as a means to an end. Plus, besides the brownies, I feel like I eat pretty sensibly. I’ll make a big meal and have leftovers for the next four days. I only really get full if I’ve just spent $30 at a restaurant. I grew up eating Tofurky sausages at my grandparents’ house and vegetable lasagna at home. I cook very little meat because I don’t like cooking meat. And I go for walks after dinner. It doesn’t take eliminating seed oils or buying a cast-iron skillet for me to feel healthy. I pity anyone for whom it does, because it isn’t their fault.

I’ve got a jar of sauerkraut fermenting for the next 10 days or so. I had half a cabbage left from a soup I’m still getting through, and the internet says the payoff/effort ratio for homemade sauerkraut is second to none. Updates on that to come, even though a few of you can’t seem to stand when I post about the next thing I’m pickling.

I’m also considering bringing new life to the sourdough starter one of you Artsci alumni left in my fridge. I hear all it needs is flour and water to get going again, so theoretically I should be making loaves like it’s May of 2020 by next weekend. But I’m really not in a rush. I could just eat three slices of store-brand brioche and forget about it.

Dulce de leche for my birthday last year. Gone within days.

Next up: the butterfly garden post I’ve been talking about for six months. Out tomorrow.

1. A classic folk song

2. Officially called “Sustainable Sundays”, you get 15% off if you don’t use any of their plastic bags.