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Blame it on Miss Dahl's Voluptuous Delights, a cookbook by the gorgeous, curvaceous former model Sophie Dahl. I chanced upon her book while browsing at the library last week. It is a pretty cool cookbook/food memoir, full of charming little anecdotes and homely recipes which I thought I might get round to trying someday.
Problem was, once the book was back on the shelf, (and this is revealing of my hopelessly distracted thought process) all I could think of was the word "Scrumdiddlyumptious". A word ingeniously coined, of course, by none other than Miss Dahl's famous writer grandfather Roald Dahl.*
I believe it is difficult, if not impossible, to find another word in the English language which so singularly and immediately conveys a sense of supreme, lip-smacking yummaliciousness (see, I needed to use 3 words, told ya). Once planted in my head, it simply refused to leave me alone. On and on, like a chorus of inebriated Oompa Loompas, the refrain of "Scrumdiddlyumptious scrumdiddlyumptious scrumdiddlyumptious" played on my mind for the rest of the week.
You can understand of course, that it was only a matter of time before I was seized with the irresistable urge to make, and consume in large quantities, something truly and marvellously scrumdiddlyums.
It wasn't hard to decide what would fit the bill.
It had to be Fudgey. Creamy. Buttery. Sweet. There would have to be Chocolate. Peanut Butter. And Marshmallows. And most importantly, it would not be healthy. The last being not so much a requirement as it is a matter of fact. For scrummy and healthy never the twain shall meet.
And that's how the Fudgemallow Pie was born.
A fudgey chocolate brownie pie, spread generously with the smoothest, butter-creamed peanut butter, topped with coconut flakes and big fluffy marshmallows. And then smothered all over with warm chocolate sauce. The sensation of melty, chocolate-coated marshmallows against the salty-sweetness of creamy peanut and coconut on fudge, is out of this world.
When you take your first bite, your brain will exclaim in sugar-induced ebullience, "By golly, this IS Scrumdiddlyumptious!!". And then scarcely after recovering from the shock of its intense, chocolatey, fluffernutterish deliciousness, it might scream "MORE!!!". Or in my case, "This needs ice-cream!" Which of course it does. Cold creamy, vanilla bean ice-cream melting atop its warm, oozey, chocolatey, stick-to-the-roof-of-your-mouth fudgey goodness. You cut yourself another slice.
