Now, of late I'm doing my best to watch my figure as I creep toward 30 years old and the inevitable demise of my metabolism. So I'm trying to avoid unhealthy things. And yet, someone left me some butterscotch chips, a true rarity in these parts. And I'm on an oatmeal kick - oatmeal, brown sugar, raisins, check. What more do you need for cookies? Eggs? I've been known to fry or scramble them. Flour? I keep that around in case I want to fail at battering and frying something. Salt? Check. Butter? Obviously. Despite my bachelordom, I know these are essential for baking and I keep them all on hand anyway. I started thinking - cookie-baking is a skill I can further develop in my spare time here, and it just so happens I have the majority of the necessary ingredients. Gotta start somewhere.
And so it came to pass that I decided to bake some oatmeal cookies.
I located the following Betty Crocker recipe:
1 1/2 cups brown sugar
1 cup butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla
2 cups quick oats
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
1 cup chopped nuts
blah blah 350 degrees blah blah combine ingredients drop dough 2 inches apart on an ungreased baking sheet, bake 9-11 minutes blah blah cool on a rack.
I don't have a cooling rack. I didn't think about this until the cookies were actually in the oven.
What I had to start with.
I had to plunder the Marshall's house for the remaining stuff. Since this was my first time baking since moving here, there was no way I was going to have vanilla on hand. I didn't have any baking soda that hadn't been sitting in a freezer for less than a decade. Also, I didn't have a mixing bowl. Also, I was out of eggs for some reason.
me, plundering the Marshall's house.
Everything you need for a breathtaking baking adventure
Dial it up to 350 for fun. No digital clock ovens in this house. Analog, baby. That's how I roll.
There they are. No turning back now. That's butter and sugar - essentially frosting. The butter, for the record, smelled and tasted a little funky. Not enough, though, for me to think it was unusable. A more experienced cook might have turned back at this point. But like I said - no turning back now. We're doing this.
Add eggs and vanilla and stir "until light and fluffy." I guess this is light and fluffy. Then combine all the rest.
Artist with art. Taking self-portraits and not looking like a doofus is very difficult. Poor framing. Meh.
That's definitely not the prescribed two-inches apart. No big deal, though, right? Who cares? It was at this point that I realized - what in the world are they supposed to cool on? My mom always put them on newspaper. I don't read newspapers here. Bare on the table? Nope. I had something:
Paper towel, baby. A few of them got a little close together and turned into squares. No biggy. I'll fast forward to the end here:
They really don't look too bad.
Now. Finished. I can enjoy a few of these, but I'm going to have to give a lot away. I tasted