This week’s Baked Sunday Mornings entry is a tale of self-pity and thinly veiled frustration. This has been a tough weekend for me. My husband came home sick from work and went to bed around 2 o’clock on Friday afternoon and has just now emerged, at 8:30 on Sunday morning. I started out yesterday with a super-fun plan to do lots of cool things with the kids in order to 1) give Matt some peace while he rested and 2) avoid being cooped up in the house with the kids all day, which is, for me, the bullet train to Crazytown. So, we went to the farmers’ market, to my son’s YMCA league basketball game, Valentine’s day shopping at Target, to the summer camp fair, and finally, after eating lunch, going down for a nap. I tried to lie down too, but every time I started to drift off, Matt would sniff or turn or cough or whatever and I’d be awake again.
Come 4 o’clock yesterday, when my toddler woke from her nap — something I always dread (this girl does not wake up gracefully; I have to brace myself for at least half an hour of whining and screaming every morning and afternoon) — I was in a Mood Most Foul. I just let the screaming and whining get under my skin until I was no longer the sweet, fun, easygoing Mama of the morning. I was She Who Will Give You Something to Cry About. In short, it was wine-thirty. I could — maybe should — have just hunkered down with a book and let the kids watch a DVD while I went to my happy place, but I decided to throw this together because in general, baking makes me happy.
I guess my mood affected my experience of this rich, dark loaf when I finally sliced off a piece for myself after everyone had gone to bed and I’d had dinner (and I’d finally gotten a shower at 8:30pm). I thought it wasn’t sweet enough and that it was too dry (perhaps because I’d cut from the end of the loaf). I was ready to declare it a failure. I also didn’t mix up the peanut butter spread because dammit, I just didn’t want to have to do any more freaking dishes.
Fast forward to this morning, when I’m slicing up the loaf to photograph for this blog entry. I decide to go ahead and mix up the spread because all the dishes were finally clean (I’d been up since before 7 to attend to Her Highness, Princess of Whinetopia). I’m glad I did, because a.) the slices from the middle of the loaf are divine; so moist and fluffy and deeply chocolatey and b.) the spread, while a bit grainy from the sugar, is the perfect complement to the bread. Deee-licious.
Here’s what I would do differently:
I would chop up the chocolate per the recipe. Because I was fed up and being sloppy, I just threw the chocolate disks into the batter willy nilly. As a result, there are basically just saucers of chocolate sat in the loaf rather than an even distribution of delightful chocolate pieces. It’s not horrible, but it’s also not very pretty.
I might use powdered sugar for the spread so that it’s not so grainy. Again, not a deal-breaker, but who wants a crunchy cream cheese spread?
And now to find some lucky folks to share some slices with!