crappy carob brownies

When I was a small child, my mom used to teach yoga. Back then, people had no clue what yoga was and everyone thought my mom taught Yoda. Because Yoda was big, and everyone knew who he was. Yoga… not so much.

In order to ease teasing and make life simple I used to just say she taught aerobics. Because, everyone knew what that was. (Think: Jane Fonda days) I knew it was a lie, but sometimes kids feel like they have to lie.

So… my mom taught these yoga classes and took me with her. I remember she’d darken the room she was renting, usually at a city hall or library, light an incense and play a cassette with sitar music. I remember she’d open the session up in a soft voice instructing her students through the sun salutations, the cobra, assorted contortionist poses and, finally she’d end with deep meditation. Inevitably, there would always be a student that would happen to fall asleep during the meditation, and I was strictly warned to hold in my giggle if they happened to snore. I remember groaning at the series of sun salutations she’d have me do alongside her, and freezing in my little pink velour leotard. Often times, she’d bring a treat for me if I was good. And, chances are it was carob. Because back then carob was chocolate to me… because I had not yet to discovered the world of chocolate and white sugar.

A few weeks ago, when my husband and I endeavored our vegan fast- I rediscovered carob. Unsweetened carob chips, to be exact. Those tasty morsels opened up a world of memories and a craving for carob brownies that I used to make when I was in my twenties.

If only I could remember the recipe.

These brownies had great potential while baking. The house smelled like warm glazed doughnuts.