Decisions, decisions…

I used to make decisions with no regard for anyone or really anything.

I’m not talking about little decisions, like whether to buy light wash or dark wash jeans or whether to order steak or fish: those decisions take painstaking deliberation and time and wringing of hands and other things that completely negate my nearly constant mantra of, “Emily, remember: you need to eradicate stress from your life.”

I’m talking about life-changing decisions: decisions to move somewhere, to buy a plane ticket for the weekend, to change my major, change my school. The decisions I should be wringing my hands over and tying my stomach in knots as I debate the pros and cons… those are the ones I tend to jump into blindly, like so many summers attempting back flips off the diving board. “Move to France? Sure, why not.”

That’s how it’s always happened in the past… so how did I get here?

Paris was over and done with for me at Christmas of 2008. I was ready to say my goodbyes, to move on to somewhere new: at the time, Naples was the place of choice, but I’ve since learned that the destination has little if anything to do with my desire to move. But in Paris I stayed, as months came and went, trying to stay in love with Paris and still sure that there was somewhere else I was meant to be, something else I was supposed to be trying.

I came to Spain as something temporary: my things stayed in Paris, and I kept my old address. And that’s how it always happens, or so I’ve learned. I felt the familiar creeping of my wanderlust, allowed it to come up from behind me and envelop me and announce my new destination with fanfare heard only by my ears: “Argentina. Go to Argentina.”

I don’t ask where these ideas come from… they just appear. (Name that 90s film…)

So why is it so hard this time? I’ve looked for jobs, announced my plans forcefully and happily to those around me. I’ve decided on a city, researched plane tickets, and tried to figure out if I’ll have enough money to both eat and buy a second-hand surf board (the answer is barely, but I’ll survive).

And yet, there’s something clawing at me, something new. Something that isn’t letting me make this decision as easily as some of my others. Part of me, I think, is afraid that if I head down to South America, that will be the end of Europe for me. And as much as I love to move, to delve into the next big thing, I’ve been living in Europe for nearly three years, and had my heart in Europe for much longer.

And then there’s the other worry, the one that’s always there, that accompanies the ticking clock of my 18-month itch: the knowledge, as little as I want to allow it to be there, that I can’t do this forever. Someday, I’ll have to end up somewhere, and the endless list of places that I’ve always told myself I’ll live someday–Naples, Ireland, Arizona, Vermont, Australia–will be suddenly cut short. I am struck with the realization that picking the next place on the list may also be picking the last: each time I do this, it only gets harder, and I’m going to have to stop somewhere. How do I know that that place will be the right one?

Decisions aren’t easy… and they’re only getting harder. Which is why, when all is said and done, it is crucial to my existence to have a few things to fall back on. These brownies are one of those things: something I can whip up and be sure that each time they will be amazing and leave other people swooning, distracting them from the whirring of my decision making inside my own crazy head.

Archetypal Brownies

Note: This recipe comes, as so many great ones do, via Molly aka Orangette. I can’t leave well enough alone, so I add a tablespoon of strog coffee to the batter and sometimes a quarter teaspoon of cayenne, cinnamon or nutmeg. I can’t very well commit to a decision, now can I?

1 ¼ cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 tsp salt
2 sticks (8 ounces) unsalted butter
4 ounces best-quality unsweetened chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 ounces best-quality bittersweet chocolate, coarsely chopped
2 cups granulated sugar
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
4 large eggs

Optional : 1 Tbsp. strong coffee OR 1/4 tsp. cinnamon OR 1/4 tsp. cayenne OR 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

Center a rack in the oven, and preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour and salt; set aside.

Melt the butter and the chocolate together in the top of a double boiler over—but not touching—simmering water (or in a metal bowl over a saucepan of simmering water), stirring frequently. When the chocolate and butter are both melted and smooth, add 1 cup of the sugar to the mixture, and stir it for 30 seconds; then remove the mixture from the heat, and stir in the vanilla extract. Pour the mixture into a large bowl.

Put the remaining 1 cup sugar and the eggs into a medium bowl, and whisk by hand to combine. Little by little, pour half of the sugar and eggs into the chocolate mixture, stirring gently but constantly with a rubber spatula so that the eggs don’t scramble from the heat. Beat the remaining sugar and eggs on medium speed until they are thick, pale, and doubled in volume, about 3 minutes. Using the rubber spatula, gently fold the whipped eggs and sugar into the chocolate mixture. When the eggs are almost completely incorporated, gently fold in the dry ingredients.

Pour and scrape the batter into an unbuttered 8-inch square pan (I’ve found a heavy nonstick metal brownie pan to be ideal, although the original recipe recommends ceramic or glass). Bake the brownies for 25-28 minutes, during which time they will rise a bit and the top will turn dry and a bit crackly. After 23 minutes, stick a knife or toothpick into the center to see how they are progressing. They should be just barely set—not too raw, but still fairly gooey (mine generally take the full 28 minutes, if not a touch more). Cool the brownies in the pan on a rack. When they’re completely cool, cut them into rectangular bars to serve.