The Brownie Batter Test
You have no idea what you’ll learn during the first year of marriage.
When I made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, Cliff commented, “The recipe says four dozen. That’s not what you got.”
“I eat a lot of dough,” I replied nonchalantly.
When he made a cake, I noted, “It didn’t rise much.”
He responded, “I eat a lot of batter.”
A match made in heaven.
So one Saturday we decided to make brownies. As we took substantial licks from a wooden spoon, I mentioned that we didn’t have to bake them and could eat all the batter. Cliff laughed. We ate it in bowls like pudding. Then we drizzled it over vanilla ice cream until every rich drop was gone.
We shared a childhood fantasy.
We never mentioned it again and certainly never told anyone. We forgot about it completely until Cliff reminded me a few years ago. It was delight to remember our glee that Saturday afternoon.
Here’s the curious thing I’ve discovered from that carefree experience–back before we even knew the potential hazards from eating raw eggs. I don’t know how the subject came up, but it made sense at the time when I told the brownie batter story to an acquaintance. She laughed about how much fun it must have been. She understood our dalliance with forbidden fruit/batter.
Then another occasion presented itself, and I told the tale. That acquaintance was horrified. “Well, I hope you learned your lesson from that mistake.”
I hadn’t expected that.
Sometimes I look for a way to reveal our brownie batter adventure, tempting the resulting smiles or frowns. For me, the reaction reveals whether the listener can appreciate crossing boundaries and has a quick sense of humor.
Or whether the listener has a black-and-white approach to life. Where things are either right or wrong. Where violations must be punished. Where crossing lines is never amusing.
It tells a lot about how things are going to go for me with a person. It indicates if they can see the grayness in things. Or the brownness, in this case.
It’s a philosophic chocolate line in the sand.
