A Tale of Woe and a Waste of Cocoa

So I decided at about midnight that yes, I was gonna give in and bake something, even though I've been trying not to eat so damn much. The problem with this plan was that we lack butter and eggs, both things you generally need. "No problem," I thought, "I'll just look up a vegan recipe on the Internet. Of course, we don't have any applesauce or egg substitute, so we'll just have to see..."
I found a suitable recipe (in that I had all the ingredients at hand) and began mixing it up. The recipe called for a cup of oil. "Screw that noise," I said to myself, and used only half a cup. This seemed to suffice, as the resulting batter/dough was still rather oily, and I shudder to imagine what it would have looked like had I used the full amount.
Roadblock number 2: I do not own an appropriate pan for squares. I generally use a round cake pan instead, only this time it seemed a little small. I pressed the dough into it (some oil leeching to the top and making me begin to regret this whole baking thing) and it seemed a little thick. "Oh well, I'll just put a pizza pan under it to catch any drips." (This turned out to be unnecessary; it didn't overflow.) I put it in the oven (in which I am continually forgetting to reposition the racks, so one is very high and the other very low, and it is NOT a convection) and set it for the minimum time (25min). It goes off, I check it, the centre is still a little gooey looking. I set it for the rest of the time (5 more min). It looks done, so I pull it out and let it cool on the counter.
Twenty minutes later, I remember it's there, and go to take a wedge. The middle is still dough, cleverly disguised under a layer of crust. Shoot. This has happened to me before, and it has never ended well. I recall a cookie pizza that was basically a pile of superheated dough. So I have a genius idea. Metal is an excellent conductor of heat, right? So if I embed a fork in the middle, it will facilitate cooking. I put it back in at a higher temperature for 15 more minutes. After that elapses, I take it out, and naturally reach for the fork. Turns out metal is an excellent conductor of heat. After jamming my hand in the freezer and almost having my fingers stick to a bag of peas, I put the damn brownies back in, getting seriously cheesed at this point. Fifteen more minutes, and it's still freakin' soup in the middle. I put it on the top shelf this time.

Now what happened next, I can only guess. Either the oven finally caught up and reached 400 degrees, or the top rack is MUCH hotter than the bottom, but either way when the timer goes off there is smoke slowly curling out of the vent. Wisely, I turn on the fan before opening the over. I doubt my neighbours would enjoy the dulcet tones of our smoke alarm at what is now 1:30 in the morning. Once I peeled the carbonised top layer off the barely cooked innards (seriously, I may have inadvertently created an extremely heat resistant polymer, call NASA) I have a bite, only to discover that it kinda tastes like oatmeal and wheat chaff.

I have never in my life been a worse cook. The only thing that could have made it worse is if it had overflowed, but at least then I would know that the damn thing was cooking. I figure the whole thing is karma for breaking my oath of no more baking.


And now the first two fingers of my left hand are rather full of pain, especially as I type. This weekend's term paper party is gonna be SO MUCH FUN.







ps. THE SCIENCE WAS SOUND