G has been on a diet of late. He thinks he has a gut. He's 5'10" and 165 pounds. Say it ain't so!
I have no objections, really, though it means I have to search a little farther afield to find willing consumers of my desserts. Not a problem. It makes life more interesting, and it's a great way to make friends.
Okay, fine. I'm painfully shy and probably wouldn't make friends if you paid me. But it would be a great way to make friends if I were someone else.
That having been said, he seems to have hit diet-tolerance-saturation.
"I'm hungry," he says.
Well, says I, what would you like?
He wants to know what would be fun for me to make. Ha ha ha. Diet food is not generally too much 'fun' to make, as far as chef-me is concerned.
Cookies, say I.
The eyes go wide. "Cookies?"
"I'm kidding."
"No, seriously. Cookies?"
"Um..."
Thus it came to be that I made chocolate chip cookies, fudgies, and
brownie peanut butter cups all in one evening. Ah, the bliss.
The brownie peanut butter cups didn't really bake up the way I anticipated. They were still bubbling through the crust long after the advertised baking time was over (which they maybe shouldn't have been doing at all). So although a toothpick inserted in the center would have come out wet, the top was no so much "set" as resembling a Yosemite boiling mud pot. It was nearly impossible to get them out of the muffin tins—I assume as a result of their oddly volcanic baking activity. It wasn't much to look at, but it was pretty tasty.
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