It started with burnt toast. That kind of morning. Not catastrophic, just… bad-angled. The coffee didn’t help. The floor was cold. I scraped the toast and kept eating like it would fix something. It didn’t. Then I saw the recipe — Martha Stewart’s Fudgy Brownies — scribbled on the back of an envelope in my drawer. Probably from that year I kept baking things at midnight like it was therapy. I’d tucked it in next to the biscuit ratio I never used.
I didn’t want sweet. I wanted dense. Something dark and quiet and solid in the middle.
What the Original Looked Like
Her Highness keeps it basic here — which unnerved me a little. No espresso. No nuts. Just butter, chopped chocolate, sugar, eggs. You whisk. You bake. You wait. She calls for a square pan and grace. It’s supposed to cool fully before cutting — of course. That part felt like a challenge.
Martha’s version promises structure. Even the parchment gets folded like origami, edges squared, buttered with patience. They come out dark, set, rich… no frills. Nothing gooey-drippy. Just serious.
What I Did Differently
I didn’t wait.
I also used sea salt from that tin I bought in Provincetown, the one I shouldn’t have brought home. It hits sharper than regular salt. Brighter. And I added a glug — just a small, guilty glug — of vanilla, because… I don’t know. It smelled like Christmas before the divorce. I needed that.
Didn’t have the right chocolate either. Used a half-melted bar from Mae’s baking stash and some forgotten chips from a ziplock. It worked.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
Melted the butter with the chocolate directly in the green Pyrex. Not over water. Just… straight on low while I leaned against the counter and listened to the wind bang the porch door like it wanted in. Stirred too much. Then not enough. Mae texted “u up?” like we weren’t in the same house. I didn’t answer. She came in and stole a piece of the chocolate, laughed, left.
I forgot to whisk the sugar in until the eggs were already half in. Too late. I kept going. That’s how most of it went. The cocoa hit like a puff of memory — like the time I made chocolate cake during a thunderstorm just to keep the silence from swallowing me.
The batter was thick and mean. Like it didn’t want to be spread. I used the back of the spoon, pressed hard. The dent in the Dutch oven caught my eye from the stove. That dent’s been through more than I have.
It baked longer than it should have — I kept opening the oven, needing answers. Pulled it out at 57 minutes, I think. Could’ve been 63. Doesn’t matter. It smelled right. Like something finished. Like closure, if closure had a crust.
Then I dropped the damn pan trying to lift it out.
Not upside down — just a hard, jarring slip. Hit the stove grates. Cracked the corner. I sat on the floor and laughed. Not hysterical. Just… tired.
A Few Things I Learned
Don’t bake when your hands are shaking. Or do. Just know something will fall.
Also — let the brownies sit. Even cracked and crooked, they were better after an hour. Like people. Like me.
What I Did With the Extras
Mae came back. Ate three. Didn’t ask what was wrong — just said, “These taste like the ones you made after Nana’s funeral.” I didn’t remember that. But I didn’t argue.
There weren’t many left by morning. Just crumb marks on the stove and one square I saved. I ate it cold, standing up.
Would I Make It Again?
Maybe not on purpose. But yeah. I think I already did.
That’s As Much As I Remember
The toast was still burnt. The floor still cold. But something in the house had shifted. The kind of shift only a cracked pan and chocolate can pull off.
If you want something messier, I did Her Highness’s chocolate pudding once during a heatwave. it nearly broke the fridge — but worth it.
FAQs
Yeah. they’ll be fine, just a little less dense when thawed. I froze half once during a breakup and forgot them. found them two weeks later. still good.
Whatever you’ve got. I used half a fancy bar and some sketchy chips from the back of the pantry. as long as it melts and doesn’t taste like cardboard, you’re good.
I didn’t the first time. regretted it. scrubbing brownie edges off a pan at midnight is not the therapy session I wanted.
Sure. Martha didn’t, but if you’re the kind of person who keeps walnuts on hand, live your truth. I forget to buy them. every time.
When the middle fights back but doesn’t win. like… toothpick has a few soft crumbs, not batter. or trust your nose. that’s what I do when the timer’s a lie.
Check out More Recipes
- Martha Stewart Pecan Pie
- Martha Stewart Shortbread Cookies
- Martha Stewart Roast Chicken
- Martha Stewart Chocolate Brownies
Martha Stewart Fudgy Brownies
Description
Dense, sharp-edged, and better broken — like some days. like some people.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Melt the butter and chocolate together in a heatproof bowl—over simmering water if you’re feeling proper, or just in the microwave in short bursts (watch it, or it turns to sad sludge). Stir until it’s glossy and dark, like the good part of a bad dream.
- Add the sugar and eggs once the chocolate’s cool enough not to scramble them. I forgot the sugar until mid-egg once. It still worked. Mix until it looks thick and smooth-ish.
- Stir in the flour, cocoa, baking powder, and salt—don’t overthink it. I didn’t sift. I barely stirred. But it came together like a mood swing settling. Add a glug of vanilla if you’ve got the heart for it.
- Pour the batter into a lined and buttered square pan—mine was 9-inch, but I’ve done it in an 8 and just watched the edges like a hawk. Spread it flat. The batter doesn’t want to move. Coax it.
- Bake at 350°F (175°C) for 50–60 minutes—until the top is firm and the middle offers a little resistance but not a tantrum. A toothpick should come out with a few fudgy crumbs. Not clean. Never clean.
- Cool in the pan for at least 30 minutes—longer if you can stand it. I couldn’t. I cracked the edge pulling it out too soon. Still worth it.
- Cut into squares with a damp serrated knife if you want it to look civil. Or eat it from the pan with a spoon. No judgment. I’ve done both.