Here are some sure-fire mixes with which no one of sane mind can be displeased; marshmallows & graham crackers, cereal & milk, beer & wings, little girls in summer dresses, Hugh Grant & romantic comedies, or my co-author and I. Things that often do not mix: oil & water, Spock & Picard fans, Greece & fiscal responsibility, Lindsey Lohan & rehab, or the culinary hubris that results from days of me reading food blogs and my kitchen...or at least so I thought.

Before you get wrapped up in false pretenses Lindsey is still celeb-wino du jour, Greece still has more chest hair and ruins than money, and middle-aged Spock & Picard fans are waging intractable e-debates from their mothers basements. The aberration of late was that my culinary ambition yielded quite scrumptious results.

Let me explain. In one weekend my desire to take on three hallmark recipes of experienced bakers: chocolate cake, cooked meringue and Italian buttercream. I had never attempted any of these before, nor anything like them, but I'm a man and can quite easily convince myself that I can do anything perfectly the first time around. For anyone rolling their eyes at this; be thankful I wasn't trying to fix your plumbing unannounced because I'm sure I could pull it off.

The baked meringues were more frightening in theory than they were in practice. I actually got these on the first pass.

The humility with which I approached the chocolate cake was likely what lead to final success. The cake gods clearly smile upon those who check the recipe every 5 seconds like an OCD epileptic. Success number two? Dare I enter a moist (hehehe innuendo), rich, deep (hehehe...nevermind) yes? Okay yes I do because it was damned tasty.

The buttercream took two attempts but when it worked it was golden. After I cooled the mixture of whipped egg whites and soft-ball stage cooked sugar I divided the batch and added ganache to one half and my leftover butterscotch sauce to the other.

What resulted were the most eccentric sandwich cake cookies ever constructed.

Moral of the story? Sometimes hubris works, just not when you're Greek.

Recipe adapted from "Chocolatesuze"

The Maginot Line or Republicans' immigration policy proposal?

A well designed plan can be the razor-edge separating success and failure. The keen readers will have noted that I didn't say which side planning ultimately leads to; often it's success, but memory serves notable instances where planning was less than…well…efficacious. Take for instance the ill-fated Maginot line; France's ostensible answer to a potential repeat of Germany's 1914 invasion. The rationale was sound enough: an enormous, well-fortified, securitized wall between France and its longtime military rival would dissuade further German aggression. German forces surely appreciated the grandeur of such valiant rationality as they swept north through Belgium and then drove southwards into France, but this time circumventing the Maginot Line altogether, a barrier that only ran the length of the German-French border. France earned double irony points as this was precisely how the Germans had invaded in 1914. Yes planning had served France well indeed.

What has this all to do with baking? Well I like France had presumably learned from prior culinary debacles and had made appropriate, logical adjustments to my plans. THIS time, unlike so many others, I was fully prepared from the onset. All my ingredients pre-measured and prepped, oven preheated, all utensils easily accessible on the countertop. I had gotten the jump on forgetfulness and would laugh heartily as my efforts yielded the most succulent blondies ever to emerge from a brownie pan. Then Germany came calling *cue Deutschland, Deutschland über alles*

The first batch was offered me solidarity to those Frenchman standing on the Maginot Line, watching at the Germans flew overhead or swept around the flank, utterly helpless. I had done everything correctly. The recipe followed to the letter, even going so far as to employ the foodscale to measure dry ingredients. Alas, my unraveling came from my own stupidity (my most ardent nemesis) and that brown saucy devil that is caramelizing sugar.

The latter devil cackled first. Lying to me in the sweet aromatic overtures of bubbling caramel I attempted butterscotch for the first time. Slow and low I crafted, intently and inexpertly, my neophyte's masterpiece. My first hint of failure was how the butterfat had seemed to separate from the caramel when I transferred it from pan to bowl. Fifteen minutes later it had become a mass with only slightly less density than my own obtuse brain.

Looks like a continent...crapistan perhaps?

Fail-sauce. No seriously...failsauce.

As the caramel reified into a crystalline catastrophe I happily sailed oceans of ignorance while preparing the blondie batter. Once again suspicion left me wondering why the batter was so wet, and so much butterfat was accumulating on the surface, despite my faithful recreation of the recipe. Assuaging my fears by reliance on the wisdom of the recipe author I placed 1/2 the batter in the pan and flash baked. What came out was golden brown and smelled quite good. So good in fact that a scant 120 seconds after having removed it from the oven I saw fit to grab it with naked paw and subsequently scatter it in explosive crumb form all across my kitchen floor. Blondies after all can be served on the floor as well as a plate. It was only after sweeping up the mess did I discover my amber colored butterscotch bowling ball stuck to my bowl. I could hear France laughing at me.

Now a matter of principle I made slight modifications to the blondie recipe to make it drier, and located a more moron-proof butterscotch recipe. The denouement of this story is something more than France today: actual, unmitigated success. My blondies were perfect, the butterscotch lost half the batch as repeated spoon dips were transferred directly to my mouth. This all flying by the virtual seat of my pants.

Yes, shortly beforehand I poured some directly into my mouth.

What's the moral? Despite being the du jour global intellectual mantra, planning can lead you astray. Be willing to infuse some instinct into your plans. If not your personal mascot will become:

Franceman, a leading French military strategist.

Caramel Slice

Recipe Courtesy: Project Foodie

Crust

• 1 cup unbleached all purpose flour
• 1/4 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
• 2 teaspoons cornstarch
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) chilled unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 1 tablespoon ice water
• 1 large egg yolk

Caramel Topping

• 1 14-ounce can sweetened condensed milk
• 1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar
• 6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, diced
• 2 tablespoons golden syrup (such as Lyle's Golden Syrup) or
• dark corn syrup
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Chocolate Glaze

• 6 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate (do not exceed 61% cacao), chopped
• 3 tablespoons heavy whipping cream
• Flaked sea salt (such as Maldon)

Crust: Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter 12 x 8 1/4 x 1-inch fluted tart pan with removable bottom. Blend flour, sugar, cornstarch, and salt in processor. Add butter. Using on/off turns, blend until coarse meal forms. Add 1 tablespoon ice water and egg yolk. Blend until moist clumps form. Press dough onto bottom (not sides) of pan; pierce all over with fork [1]. Bake until golden, piercing if crust is bubbling, about 22 minutes. Cool completely.

Caramel Topping: Whisk milk, sugar, butter, syrup, and vanilla in heavy medium saucepan over medium heat until sugar dissolves, butter melts, and mixture comes to boil. Attach clip-on candy thermometer to side of pan. Boil gently until caramel is pale golden and thick and thermometer registers 225°F, whisking constantly, about 8 minutes. Pour caramel evenly over crust [2], then spread almost to edge of crust [3]; cool 15 minutes to set.

Chocolate Glaze: Meanwhile, melt chocolate with cream in microwave in 15-second intervals, stirring occasionally until smooth (do not overheat or chocolate will separate). Spread chocolate over warm caramel; sprinkle with sea salt. Refrigerate until chocolate is set, at least 1 hour.

Do Ahead: Can be made 3 days ahead. Cover and keep refrigerated.

Cut dessert lengthwise into 4 strips. Cut each strip crosswise into 5 or 6 slices. Transfer to platter and serve.

I love bar cookies. LOVE THEM. Anything that starts with a shortbread base is a wholehearted leap in the right direction, anything gooey, sweet, chocolatey, whipped or otherwise placed atop takes good and makes it ecstasy in edible form. Sam stumbled into these last weekend while we both frantically searched over-bloated recipe bookmarks to find something to cook. I was pretty sold from the moment I clicked the link.

What I would find is that these bars were analogous to charting an unknown course to a known destination; I got to where I wanted to go in ways I had never tried, but I know the missed turns I would take next time.

When I say unfamiliar I mean REALLY unfamiliar. I had never attempted shortbread before, much less layering on top of it. My first try, valiant though it was, was processed too much and balled on me. I blame the food processor.

The culinary gods were aberrantly forgiving though; my tart pan was nowhere near filled by one batch of shortbread and required a second. A retry brought MUCH better results.

I used my extensive array of professional grade cooking utensils to even out the dough. Okay, yes that is the inverted lid of an old sour cream container. My friends and colleagues will tell you the surest way to tell if the food in the work fridge is mine is that it will be encased an a Daisy sour cream container. Go ahead and judge my MacGuyver ingenuity. Somewhere Alton Brown is nodding with approval.

My fears over shortbread inexperience abated when I pulled my golden brown round of happiness from the oven. Aaaaaaaaaand then I got cocky....

My intended alterations to the recipe were twofold: I would substitute the caramel sauce for a more brittle-esque caramel layer, and the chocolate layer would be tempered first. I wanted this to be a growth experience in pastry technique, and I have always wanted to try both caramelizing sugar and tempering chocolate. The first of these alterations led to calamity: even though David Lebowitz's very astute article cautioned me, I turned away from my heating sugar momentarily (what can happen in 3 seconds really?) and returned to an erupting mess boiling right through the center of pristine white. Like Sarah Palin's credibility, it couldn't be saved. So try, try again: lower heat, greater vigilance...there! caramelizing around the corners...be patient...wiggle the pan...CRAAAAAP!!! It's melted from the bottom leaving the top untouched!!! *expletives fly**vigorous stirring*

...fastforward to the successful part...

Caramel - golden brown devil

Tempering the chocolate was more slowly tedious, but a lot more successful. Also, more tempting. Watching a pot of chocolate slowly cool makes you wonder if just tipping it back into your gaping maw would be better.

Gratuitous chocolate money shot

A few hours in the fridge and things were set pretty nicely. In retrospect the caramel layer was much too thick, leaving a substantial dental-testing barrier of burnt sugar to gnaw through. All things aside it was pretty damn tasty.