i'm pretty sure dad went into that grocery store thinking chocolate is chocolate, saw a bright red box (the ghiradelli box is generally brown-gold in appearance and not as visually striking), and checked "brownie mix" of his grocery list for the week. there's nothing wrong with this line of thinking...if you're a guy. but if you're a girl, you are intimately acquainted with the different varieties of brownie mixes as necessitated by the monthly hormones that rage through our bodies making us erratic, emotionally-unstable, bloated, chocolate-jonesing animals once every 30 days. touch my pan of brownies during the last 3 days of my period and i might sacrifice your hand to Menstruses, the ovary goddess.
now, i'm not as elitist as i may seem. obviously i know what i want, ghiradelli is what i want, but surely i am a reasonable person and i would settle for something like the duncan hines chocolate fudge, or, if we're going with betty, her dark chocolate version provides the consumer a packet of hershey's chocolate to stir into the batter for a bit of additional-chocolatey-goodness. a little extra effort that i truly appreciate. but i do think that there is a problem when i go to pull out my first brownie and the bottom half of the pan is so oil heavy that the brownie leaves a residue on my fingers. isn't that supposed to be mixed in? i don't think its supposed to sink to the bottom in the 24-27 minutes i leave the pan in the oven unattended.
but this is exactly what happened to me two days ago when i went to eat my first brownie. i had to wash my hands immediately for fear i'd touch my face and initiate the next great blackhead invasion. i didn't say anything to dad because i didn't want to sound ungrateful, but i've decided that that man just can't be trusted when sent to the grocery store. unless you show him exactly what you want before he leaves the house, he has no clue what to buy. i will write "whole grain bread" on the list and he'll come home with brown wonder bread. tell him you want vanilla yogurt, he'll bring home just one cup because you didn't tell him exactly how many to buy. you tell him to bring home brownie mix and he brings you a box of vegetable oil-rejecting brown powder.
i love to do the grocery shopping. it's my favorite domestic activity. my laundry will remain on my floor for weeks at a time, i can't be bothered to put the dishes in the dishwasher, and i can't hem a pant leg worth a damn, but i can tear up a grocery store. i scan labels for trans fat and look for chips without hydrogenated oils. i find the granola with high fiber, the low-fat yogurt, and the OJ made with real fruit juices. my cart will be filled to overflowing with produce and cereal, chicken and mom's nasty sodium-laden lean cuisines and i know i could keep going if six people lived in my house instead of three. it's an addiction, the grocery shopping. but i'm pretty damn sure i'd bring home the right brownie mix...
