I am trying trying trying to clean out the cupboards here at Bumpercar HQ for the sake of making the house a bit lighter in it’s loafers (so to speak) and to save a few pennies here and wherever I can. So last night – I convinced myself that it would be a good idea to rummage around and see what I could put together – food wise/eating wise/a science experiment – let’s see what this does to me wise.

The dinner that I ended up with consisted of a 1 1/2″ (on and on half inch) cube of blue cheese, a tiny wedge of brie, some olives that had a best if eaten by 04/06 label and some “lightly salted” breadstick things. What a feast it was . . . I could barely contain my excitement as even the dog (“Irving Brown Socks”) decided that the meal wasn’t worth his time as he went to hide in his “Canine Camper” – where I think that I heard him listening to some old Slim Whitman recordings – ahhhh Slim . . .

After “drizzling” some olive oil and lightly seasoning the “sticks of bread” I gave up and started digging a little deeper into the old pantry – where low and behold I found a box of brownie mix! So I was making brownies – and making brownies – and making brownies, but the batter looked mighty stiff – so I referenced the package to see what the problem was . . . and everything checked off fine – everything had been added. So into the oven they went for 32 (thirty-two) minutes. The brownies came out and were fine . . . but that was it – they were just fine – not “Hooray for brownies for making my life a tremendous success!” (which – by the way – is a lot to ask of any brownie) – just plain and fine.

After eating a couple of the boring brownies, I went to clean the kitchen up a bit. When I grabbed the brownie box . . . a nice little packet of Hershey’s chocolate syrup tumbled out (like the little rascal that it was) . . . I had missed the key ingredient in my brownies . . . I had missed the chocolate syrup . . . I had missed the sweet sweet gooey brownie love.

I then spent the rest of the night plotting against the chocolate packet that was sitting on the kitchen counter mocking both my brownies and everything that I hold to be true and dear . . . it was a long and fruitless night . . .