Ugly chocolate chip cookies to be specific. They looked like some of that smelly money Julie talked about.
Drew and I had such fun making peanut butter cookies on Thanksgiving week, cookies which evaporated within 24 hours. Then Christmas came along. Christmas cookies were in plentiful supply over the holidays without further contribution from me so I decided it would be a nice post Christmas treat to send the babies plain old chocolate chip cookies. Who doesn’t like to get something from the UPS man when nobody else is getting presents? And you don’t have to wait to open them.
After several missed opportunities — memory issues — I finally made the decision and the list.
Monday I picked up the chocolate chips and the butter. After work, I started the dough. Sugar, butter, Honey, where are the eggs? Oops, I used the last one Saturday. Oh, well. I’ll pick some up tomorrow. What’s on TV?
Tuesday. I’ll get these ready for mailing tomorrow so they can have them by the weekend. Did you get the eggs? No. Didn’t you? No. Better put that in the fridge. What’s on TV?
Wednesday email to me — I won’t be home tonight. I have a board meeting. Not to worry, I picked up the eggs and will be busy making cookies. At home: the preliminary dough is a rock. I’ll warm it in the oven. The preliminary dough is ugly water. Start over.
(ring, ring) “Hi Nanny!” Andrew! I’m making you some cookies. Yes, chocolate chip. No, not the postman, maybe the UPS man or the FedEx guy. “Loveyoubye” and he’s off to watch Short Attention Span Theatre.
Happy Nanny is mixing and stirring and mixing and plopping the spoonfuls of dough on the cookie sheet. I’ll bet they could be duplicated by anyone willing to drop dough off the roof of a 10 story building. And they were brown. And they had dark lumps in them. I put the balance of the cookies in the cupcake pan. They didn’t spread into a 5 inch circumference but they looked ridiculous as a cup and were dented in the middle.
Maybe it was the baking soda purchased sometime during the Reagan administration.
Here we go again. It’s Thursday already. If they are a success, and BTW, the ugly ones are delicious, they will arrive at their destination to the joy and wonder of two little boys and their parents whose names will not be on the package but who will test the cookies to make sure they’re not disgusting sometime next Tuesday or Wednesday.
Ugly cookies aren’t such a bad accident. This way, Poppy will no doubt be testing the dough but he won’t be taking cookies out of the mouths of babes. He gets all the (yummy) ugly ones he wants.