What Ho, the Beautiful Brownie

A funny thing happened on the way to searching for a copy of Julia Child's "Mastering the Art of French Cooking." No one in our circle of friends or family seemed to have the book. Certainly I didn't inherit one from my mother: Her repertoire consisted of tacos, chipped beef on cornbread, tuna casserole and salmon croquettes. Some nights she just couldn't bear to come up with anything - and served only cinnamon toast and cocoa, which to a kid was an excellent culinary out.

Nothing like French cooking was going on in our Connecticut house. Too bad; we had great access to mussels and clams. Over time I've thought the lack of a good souffle in my life needed rectifying. Like a hound to the scent, I nosed around for Child's cookbook, but the recent joi de interest in the "Julie and Julia" movie seems to have sparked a run in the cookery bookery shelves. If you've ever found yourself lost in the cookbooks section of any bookstore, you know how frustrating it can be to cope, like having your last egg in the cartoon fall to the floor. All the kings horses and that sort of thing, and you're still at an impasse.

There I was, lost in stacks of books when I came across three that grabbed me, all by Ruth Reichl, the former New York Times restaurant critic now with Gourmet Magazine. I'd always been curious about how critics divide and conquer the science of taste in a sauce, a soup or I don't know, a flambe? What are they tasting for? How do they know it's the right taste, because it tastes right? And that means what? Where do they get this knowledge? How do they know what they know?

I picked up Reichl's "Tender at the Bone: Growing Up at the Table," (Random House, 1998). Not only is she a wonderful storyteller, she peels back the layers on how she developed her delicious know-how. And then there are the recipes.

I don't know about you, but when I find a recipe that tastes great and works out the way it should, I stay loyal for life. That is why I have never, never had to resort to a tuna casserole or a salmon croquette.

Straying back to the point, just turn to page 244 in Reichl's book for a beauty of a recipe, "Artpark Brownies."

Brownies are highly regarded in Texas and often on the dessert menus all over Dallas, fangled up with chocolate sauces, cookies or ice cream. Do give Reichl's brownies a go. They're my new favorite, and may I suggest, Jeanne, that you try them on the gentleman caller who's coming to town? Why not make them now and freeze them so you can eat them in anticipation?

Artpark Brownies

2/3 cup butter
5 ounces unsweetened, best-quality French chocolate
2 teaspoons vanilla
4 eggs
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
1 cup sifted flour

Preheat oven to 400.
Butter and flour a 9-inch square baking pan.
Melt butter and chocolate in double boiler, over boiling water.
When melted, add vanilla and set aside.
Beat eggs and salt in a mixer. Add sugar and beat at high speed for about 10 minutes, or until the mixture is quite white.
Add chocolate and butter mixture and beat at low speed, just until mixed. Add flour and combine quickly, until there are no white streaks.
Pour batter into baking pan and put in oven. Immediately turn oven down to 350 and bake for 40 minutes. (The normal toothpick test will not work on these brownies but if you want to try pricking them with a toothpick, it should come out not quite clean.) Do not overbake; these brownies should be fudgy.
Makes 12 brownies

(Reprinted with permission by Ruth Reichl)