Happy Friday, Would-Be Cookie Eaters,
This morning’s effort was influenced by a recipe that Pam sent me. Unfortunately, I didn’t read the recipe carefully before determining to try it. I got up about 4:30 a.m., and things started well.
It called for roughly cut chocolate. I’ve never roughly cut chocolate before, but it was messy (the way I did it) and fun. I liked having some of the chocolate melt on my knife and fingers, and some on the board. I liked seeing the slivers and crumbs and chunks. I liked that some of the slivers were grayish white — they were so thin — and others were as perfectly dark as I’d expect of good chocolate. Roughly cut suited me well on this early Friday morning at the end of the month.
The following step held promise, too: melting two sticks of butter carefully until they turn deeply brown. Swirling butter until it smells fabulous and looks fabulous is hardly work, after all. But I must admit, I felt a twinge of guilt over my not attending to the fact that the cookie’s creator directed that I use unsalted butter. I never use unsalted butter — I don’t have it. Rats. Oh well, I’ll just use a smidge less salt in the dough. Proceed, little Barbie.
Nor did I concern myself much with the fact that the recipe next called for me to use my mixer’s whisk attachment to blend the eggs, sugar and vanilla. I don’t have a whisk attachment (or even a mixer on a stand). I do have a whisk, though, and an electric hand-mixer, so I wasn’t concerned, much. I persisted, with hope.
Next, I need 5 ounces of brown sugar (1/2 packed plus 2 Tablespoons).
Geepers. That’s ridiculous. I’m supposed to have a scale, too?! Good grief. And what the heck kind of parenthetical explanation is 1/2 packed plus 2 T? Half of what? Half of five ounces? Is 2 T. the other half? Does it really matter if part of the sugar starts out in a big clump and the remainder is dumped into the bowl like little individualistic free-spirited crystals? Maybe it is a typo, and the typist intends for me to recognize that 5 oz is roughly equivalent to about a half-cup of tightly packed sugar plus 2 T. of unpacked sugar. It’s 5:30 in the morning, now. I haven’t got time for such nonsense. Piffle! I’m using most of a cup of reasonably packed sugar, and it’ll have to do. I’ll bet it’ll be fine. Proceed, little Barbie.
While my beautifully browned butter, initially cooled with exactly one “standard” ice cube, finishes its cooling in the refrigerator, I continued reading the recipe text. What? After I mix the browned butter into my hand-whisked egg/sugar/vanilla mixture and then add in my pre-mixed quantity of flour/soda/almost the right amount of salt, and my roughly cut chocolate (which, since I’m a novice is probably all wrong), with the “paddle” attachment I don’t have to the mixer I don’t have, I’m supposed to refrigerate the darned mess for up to three days, but not less than overnight. Whoa! What! This is so unfair. Did I mention that I got up at 4:30 for this thing? And this is Friday, not Thursday, and I make FRIDAY cookies!
Breathe! Sit up; your posture is horrible! Breathe. These are cookies; they’ll be wonderful. Put the dough in the freezer. Write your blog. Be happy. The recipe calls for roughly cut chocolate. Precision is not key. Good ingredients blended with good intentions and a practiced hand may be all that is needed. Persist, little Barbie. You’ve made reasonable adjustments — chilled the dough in the freezer, in smaller balls than called for. You’ll add the fancy, coarse sea salt at the end, and your offering will be good. With hot coffee, your cookies will be really good.
Hey, they are, as a matter of fact.
Come and get ’em!
P.S. Thank you, Pam.