Simply Cookies

I haven’t made cookies in years, and I used to love it. 

At Pi’s gramma’s (Hamma, we’ll call her) house, I didn’t feel right about baking in her kitchen.  For one, it was kind of full of junk, so there wasn’t really any space to do it.  Also, I didn’t really know the oven very well.  It was really old and very fussy.  Also, Hamma is the kind of person who had a specific pan, spatula, and potholder for everything.  For example, if you were rummaging around the spoon drawer, she would shuffle into the kitchen lean over your shoulder and ask you what you were going to make.  "And you’re going to use that spatula?" she might ask.  "Yeah," you might answer, "Is that okay?"  She would more often than not tell you that you don’t want that spatula, you want this spatula.

Anyway, Pi and I both reached the conclusion that we needed some cookies ’round here.

Tots helped me pour some of the ingredients in.  While I was mixing, he played with another measuring cup and a couple of blocks at the counter.  I let him taste the batter when it’s just the sugars, butter and and vanilla, before the eggs.  When I asked him if it was good, he went, "Um-hmm!"  We made a dozen of straight-up chocolate chip ones, a little more than a dozen of chocolate and peanut butter chips, and a small little batch of mostly peanut butter and few chocolate chips.  They came out perfect.

I forgot how much fun it is to bake from scratch.

Before we actually made cookies, Mom watched Tots so that I could run to the store and buy some more vanilla extract.  (It turned out that I didn’t really need it, but it will be good for next time.)  When I came back home, I asked Tots if he wanted to go back upstairs to make some cookies.  He jumped off the couch, yelled "COOKIES!" ran out of the room, yelled it again, ran back in the room, yelled, "COOKIES!" a third time and ran back out of the room.  Mom and I followed him to the kitchen, when he was already saying goodbye to Stepfather, and trying to walk through the closed door.  Somehow, I managed to get his coat on him.  Right after I zipped it up, he yelled "COOKIES!" again and ran out of the room.

You know, I don’t know if he was quite clear about his opinion about making cookies. *grins*