i hate blondies.

when i lived in missouri, we had these really good family friends. the mom made the best blonde brownies i have ever tasted. i was obsessed with them. once i got old enough for my mom to trust that i wouldn't blow up the house if i were to use the kitchen (approximately age 12), i decided i needed to make some blondies of my own, using the israelsen recipe.
it was a disaster. i don't know what i did. but whatever i ended up creating was bad enough that my mom lost all faith in my cooking abilities (up until maybe about a year ago). i was traumatized. to this day, the israelsen's still laugh at me. i'm not kidding.

but there comes a time in every woman's life where she has to face her fears. today was that day. i was going to a dinner where i had signed up to bring the dessert--i had my recipe picked, my ingredients ready, and my game face on. they went off without a hitch. they looked beautiful. they smelled awesome. i took them out of the oven at 5:27 and left my house at 5:30, all the while so dang pleased with myself for having overcome my fear of making blondies.

this was a bad idea. the cold turned them into little bricks. rather than soft and chewy, they probably could have killed a small child, which was dangerous since there was in fact a small child at this gathering. (sorry for endangering your posterity, megan.)

all those years of coming to terms with blondie failure...wasted. back to square one.