I’m almost tempted to simply say, “Presented without comment: Sables Korova.” Some things are just so good that words will never be enough, and if any cookie is that outstanding, it’s these.
I’m not much of a fan of sugar cookies. I don’t think most people lose their minds over sugar cookies, really. And at a glance, these look like your standard sugar cookies, but with chocolate. When I had wrapped some up to give to a friend, she looked at them in their cellophane bag and thought I was handing her dry, mediocre store-boughts. I don’t think she was all too thrilled about eating them. That is until she took her first bite.
These cookies are alternately known around the Internet as World Peace Cookies, because if everybody could just eat them, we’d all chill out and war would be a thing of the past. Sound like a stretch? I also call these the Crack Cookies, after giving them to another friend and seeing him wander down the hall in a daze, wondering out loud to no one in particular, “What is in these cookies? Crack?” If you don’t like making light of drug use, these can just as fairly be called the Headache Cookies, since my dad once ate so many in one sitting that he gave himself a migraine.
These sandy, buttery little morsels are sitting next to me as I type, and I’m nearly getting a high from just their smell. There’s little that is more irresistible in this world than double chocolate — I’m having a very hard time not shoveling these things in my mouth by the fistful.
Now that I think about it, I’m reticent to call these World Peace Cookies. I’m pretty sure a war could break out over them.
I just recently decided to quit my job. I didn’t come to this conclusion easily; it was only after some soul-searching that I realized I had gotten all that I could out of my employment, and it was time to move on. I wanted to leave on a sweet note, however, and couldn’t think of anything sweeter than my number one go-to cookie recipe. I’m not good at saying goodbye, so I let the baking do the talking for me, and gifted my bosses with farewell cookies.
These oatmeal cookies have been my favorite cookie recipe since middle school, and that’s saying something, as I’ve tried a lot of cookie recipes since then. They are the best with chocolate chips, but it’s no loss to make them with raisins either, if that’s your thing. Cookie preferences are highly personal, but these match my cookie ideal to a T. They are soft and chewy in the middle, with a nice crunch along their golden outside. These aren’t your puffy, cake-like cookies; they are lean and gooey and meant to be shoveled in your mouth one after the other.
A little secret? These cookies are even better frozen than they are straight out of the oven. Everyone in my family prefers to eat them pulled out of a ziplock baggie in the freezer.
So needless to say, these bad boys are dangerous. One is never enough. I’ve watched many a friend fall prey to these guys. Bake at your own risk.
I spend a lot of time looking at food blogs, oohing and aahing over recipes that I could never even dream up, let alone successfully make. Sometimes, the cooking creations I see are so amazing that I experience the same feeling that I would were I to watch the Victoria’s Secret runway show: not jealousy, but simply amusement at how far from reality it all is.
However, the truth is that just like how I can be a sexy lady without strutting down a catwalk wearing a pair of angel wings that weighs almost as much as a model’s underfed, lingerie-clad body does, I can whip up something scrumptious that requires absolutely no kitchen magic.
And that’s what coconut macaroons are for. All the necessary ingredients are already in the house, they only take a couple minutes to throw together, they can look as sloppy or neat as you allow them to be, and they still taste great. For extra flash, dip them in melted chocolate. Just because they’re a beginner’s dessert doesn’t make them any less delicious.
Vegan dessert. Prior to becoming a vegetarian, the very idea struck fear in my heart. What is dessert without dairy? In high school, a well-intentioned vegan friend of mine had subjected me to a slough of rather tasteless, artless vegan desserts, and it has taken years to undo the damage.
When I suffered a five week stint as a vegan, the only thing that was an actual challenge, besides eating meals out, was finding vegan sweets that could compare to their dairy-stuffed counterparts. Even living in Los Angeles, a veritable haven for vegans and their desserts, I felt at a great disadvantage in the world outside my own apartment. That month I had to form an even tighter bond with my oven and stovetop. The very first vegan dessert that I made and loved was a very simple, easy, chewy, gooey chocolate chip cookie. Now longer a vegan, I still make this cookie recipe, not just because it is tasty in its own right but because, lacking eggs, I don’t have to worry about salmonella poisoning as I shovel the raw dough in my mouth.
These chocolate-dipped bonbons are dreamed up for all the other raw cookie dough lovers out there. They’re small, but the chocolate coating gives them a richness that makes eating just one a fully satisfying experience. While the original recipe for the dough calls for water to be added to the wet ingredients, I prefer substituting coffee for a more intense flavor. I also add coconut oil (solid at room temperature) to the tempered chocolate to give this bonbons a summery twist.
While the following recipe uses my vegan cookie dough, this treat could easily (though less sanitarily) be made with any eggy, buttery cookie dough. Animal-lover that I am, I like to make things cruelty-free where easily possible, but I’d fault no one for preferring the deliciousness of real animal fat.
Peanut butter is probably my second favorite food after chocolate. My last year of college, I ate at least one spoonful a day. One of my friends told me that if I kept it up, I would become allergic to peanut butter and would never be able to eat it again–a fate worse than death, I thought. Despite the dubious science behind his claim, I switched over to almond butter for a while, but it wasn’t the same. Then I tried making my own pecan butter, which was incredible, but also an incredible hassle. Even Nutella (oh, Nutella) couldn’t hold a candle to a pure no-sugar, no-salt, no-molasses peanut butter.
The peanut butter cookie is a baking staple whether you have a peanut butter addiction or not. Do you ever hear of people going ga-ga over walnut butter cookies? No. And for good reason. Find me a nut butter cookie tastier than the peanut kind and I’ll be shocked. Until then, I’ll keep eating this flourless peanut butter cookie, which is soft with a little grainy crunch. The first time I made them, I left them in the oven too long and ended up with blackened cookies. And you know what? They were still good. That’s the power of peanut butter.
I frankly don’t trust anyone who hasn’t, at some point in her life, eaten a whole pack of Pepperidge Farm cookies by herself in one sitting. After finishing my first serious paper at college, I unwound by buying a bag of Captiva Dark Chocolate Brownie cookies and eating every last one of them before dinner.
Still, there’s nothing better than a homemade cookie. No matter how convenient the Farm is, especially for a college student, you really can’t beat something fresh out of the oven.
As I ate a few Milano cookies last week, I thought to myself, “… I could make these.” There’s really not much to them: a thin layer of dark chocolate sandwiched between two sugar cookies, and that’s it. They say the best plans are the simplest ones, and that’s certainly true for this little treat. Now the homemade kind may not be quite as uniform as the real thing (after all, I don’t have an industrial cookie-making plant), but it’s the taste that counts, and in that regard these a more than a fair match for the Pepperidge originals.
I’ve never been a big fan of mint. Why anyone would want to eat a dessert the flavor of toothpaste was beyond me. As a flavor, I’d give a pass to mint in tea form, but really only the spearmint kind, not the peppermint. The worst, though, would always be any combination of chocolate and mint. I’d stare resentfully at Thin Mints being passed around amongst classmates, thinking, “Why didn’t you buy the Samoas?” I’d peer over my chocolate fudge brownie ice cream cone with contempt at the sight of friends licking their mint chocolate chips. I’ve never enjoyed an Andes mint cookie. And the concept of a “grasshopper” anything (brownies, cupcakes, and forbid, even mochas) makes me about ready to give up on the world.
While grappling with some serious body image issues, I happily agreed to join a neighbor in baking some chocolate mint cookies. My logic was that I’d have fun baking and could share them with mint-loving friends and family, but would be able to spare my own waistline because mint meant no temptation.
Turned out my calculations were all wrong. These cookies were rich, gooey chocolate crinkle cookies, one of my biggest weakness. And the mint, smeared across the top and melting into the cracks, was delicate rather than overpowering. I had split off a little piece just to save face in front of my neighbor (it’s pretty weird not to eat what you bake), but it was so tasty that I popped the whole thing in my mouth. And another. And another.
I’m still not a mint fan, and you certainly won’t see me rushing to make another mint dessert anytime soon. Even so, I’m sure this won’t be my last encounter with these cookies.