Today is my mom’s birthday and since I’m an awesome daughter and ridiculously low on funds I stopped by my parent’s house after work to make chocolate chip cookies. I picked up the chips assuming she would have all the other ingredients because, well, she’s a mom. Unfortunately her mom skills have gradually declined since I’ve left the nest and I had to go back to the store for flour, brown sugar, and baking soda.
I then had the brilliant idea of making, not chocolate chip cookies but multi-cultural chip cookies to celebrate my soon to be shocking cultural immersion in Bulgaria. I bought:
- Reeses Peanut Butter Chips (brown)
- Nestle Chocolate Chips (dark brown bordering on black)
- Nestle White Chocolate Chips (ahem, white)
I was ready.
Now, let me lay some groundwork. I don’t cook. Like, at all. But, for whatever reason, I thought making chocolate chip cookies would be easy as pie, right? Piece of cake. Well, not cake or pie . Cookies. Whatever, I thought it would be simple. Uh, yeah.
My mom decided to pre-open the package to give some chips to my impatient, food-loving sister (yes, mom, I’m blaming this whole debacle on you) so the package was a little ripped over the directions part but that didn’t really matter cuz I didn’t think I needed to read the directions cuz of my complete lack of cooking experience combined with my disastrous cooking history (I once put a pan full of boiling grease under the faucet…my kitchen exploded and I nearly burned my face off. I also spilled brownie mix all over the floor once and proceeded to scoop the top layer up with a spoon, make them and serve them to my unsespecting family). This assured success in a “third time's the charm” kinda way.
I read 4 cups of flour and think, “Huh, that’s seems like a lot,” but that’s all I think and I pour 4 cups of flour in the bowl.
This is the part where I get fancy. Fancier than making multi-cultural cookies. I read in People Magazine that Lisa Kudrow likes to make her cookies with only brown sugar so I decide to do that too cuz I love Lisa Kudrow. So I’ve got everything in the bowl including half a bag of the milk chocolate chips before my mom says, “NO! You’ve got to mix the chips in later!”
Thanks for the heads-up, mom. Phew. That could have been a real disaster.
So I turn the mixer on and realize that something is wrong. It’s been my experience that ignoring problems is often the best solution so I apply that same logic to this situation, naturally. But, before long, I decide this isn’t a problem I can ignore. The cookies are pure powder. We’re talking a flaky, powdery mess.
“OK. I can fix this.”
I add two more eggs for much needed moisture.
“There. Easy. I am really good at this cooking stuff.”
The consistency is a little better than before but I have to roll the cookies into balls as if I’m making meatballs instead of cookies in order to get them to stick together. I put them on the pan, put them in the oven and wipe the sweat from my brow while simultaneously applying dough and flour to my forehead.
Then comes the “OH CRAP!!! I forgot to add the rest of the chips!” I grab the chip bag and look at the directions to see if adding half is right. It’s not.
That’s when I see it. That little 4 along the rip of the open chocolate chip bag. That 4 is connected to one of these “/” – you know what that means. Yup. On the other side of the rip was “2 1” with the 4 all alone, leaving me to believe it was 4 cups of flour. Not 4 cups. 2 ¼ cups! I added almost twice as much flour, only brown sugar, 4 eggs instead of 2, and half the amount of chocolate chips.
It’s at this point my dad thinks it’s a good idea to say, “biscuit cookies.”
This is when I actually utter the words,
“This is the greatest cookie disaster in history!”
We then notice that the cookies are starting to get really big, like, really big. Cuz of all the eggs, I guess (actually my mom told me).
My mom says, “Hey, these might be great. These might be millionaire kinda cookies. We could be famous.”
“Big-Ass biscuit cookies,” I say.
“Big-Ass cookies in a little-ass kitchen,” she says.
We then start to sing, “big-ass cookies in a little-ass kitchen,” like from Tommy Boy. We decide this is what we’ll call our new cookie business.
Turns out the cookies tasted exactly like cornbread but with a little bit of chocolate added. Not bad actually. No million dollar cookies, but not bad.
I then made a good multi-cultural batch with all the right ingredients, prepared the right way and they were scrumptious. Delectable. Darn right delicious. Highly recommended.
So, basically, I’m a terrible cook but I did manage to end years of racial tyranny in that kitchen with one batch of cornbread biscuit cookies. What did you do today?
Big-Ass Cornbread Biscuit Cookies
Multi-Cultural Chip Cookies
Happy Birthday, Mom, I love you!
