Mom's Brownies

My mom makes the best brownies.  Simple as that. I don't say this to brag or to put down yours or your mother's or your cousin's or your uncle's brownies, but really - she makes the best I've ever tasted.

This epiphany came recently.  My little family and I were on one of many visits to my parents' home, and yesterday's batch sat waiting for me in a 9x13 Pyrex dish. Next-day brownies are brownies in their prime, too.  Just settled enough: soft, but the edges still retain the faintest chewy crispness.   I helped myself, as I always did, and I suddenly remembered.

These are what brownies taste like.  They are both fudgy and cakey, and give just properly to your teeth. They taste of chocolate and vanilla and sweet and a bit of salt, and they satisfy. The best brownies, they satisfy deep. I had tried and loved many brownies before - and I will love more in my future, I'm sure - but these are it. My mother makes the brownies I will forever judge all others by.

And also in that Very Important Gastro-Moment, I knew that this was a testament of a very good mother. I love them not just because of how well they are made, but because of the pleasant associations that come each time I taste one. They speak of my childhood, my home. And her brownies, unspotted as they may be, are still only a very small representation of the good she puts into the world.  And similarly, her daughter is at times so completely overwhelmed by how unassuming yet so incredible her mother is. My mother performs the work I will forever strive to emulate.