This is my first recipe in this book, of this project, and it will forever be labelled as Crunchy Oatmeal Cookies. Chewy ones at that.
The winter just started yesterday, literally, it’s the 2nd of June. It’s freezing, I just spent the day in my dads Quick Silver sweater and my moms slippers, spent my morning watching Life Unexpected and doing research on chakras…and I finally got to planning this whole project/journal.
I got this recipe from my own personal Cookie Book. The books name is “The cookie book”, I got it from my mother quite a few Christmases back, this was her way of trying to encourage me into becoming a professional cookie baker so that I could sell cookies and become an entrepreneur. That plan did not work out very well for her, I am applying for Chef School however. Maybe the Cookie Book did work it’s magic after all.
It’s probably not the best start, it contains sugar (unhealthy), it also has egg and butter which I’m not awfully fond of (it’s not vegan), but its like life. Bitter sweet and unexpected.
And it certainly would not be what you expected and it might not necessarily be what you originally wanted or planned. But it does end with a sweet twist.
So I had all my Ingredients ready placed, only now realizing that I probably should have taken a photograph, I finally had it figured out exactly how much 175g of butter was. But I think that the butter probably should have been room temperature because as soon as I stuck that electric mixer into the bowl with the sugar and the butter…and the egg yolk, I didn’t read the instructions properly, the worlds bumpiest mixing process began, I thought that the machine would burn out, I thought this numerous times. The cold had effected the butter pretty badly, it was too cold and hard and it wouldn’t fluff or become white.
I just decided to work with it as these balls of sugar and egg infused butter. It worked, I simply sifted the dry powder ingredients into the same bowl (minimum dishes to wash afterwards), added some oats and a mix of granola and popped rice that my brother bought, he recently moved out of his tiny, miniature flat in the City and brought all his things back to the farm, this included. I don’t think he’ll mind that I replaced his breakfast with cookies!
Anyway, I let it stand in the fridge for twenty minutes, the dough was pretty powdery, I had to form little balls with my fists. They ended up not so little and became rather large, thick cookies in the end, I also didn’t use a glass to flatten them in the tray, I simply used the palm of my hand.
The heat of the oven almost immediately softened their buttery hearts and they came out half an hour later, crunchy, soft and delicious.
The world should know from early on, I’m not a big fan of following recipes. Just not my thing. I have too much confidence in the kitchen, and I believe anything is possible and fixable and flop proof.
Is there anything better in than the smell of cookies baking in the oven late on a winter afternoon? There might be a few. But there is something special about those bright, old, orange muttons pulling out that tray of cookies from the oven. Golden brown and sweet smelling, slipping them off onto a rack and nibbling on falling crumbs. The only way this could end is with buttery fingers!
Cookies always remind me of Christmas, and my grandmother. And both of them happen to be warm.