Tag Archives: Cookies

Toddler Christmas

‘Twas the week before Christmas
and all through the little rental
EVERYONE was awake
and mama was mental…


(I’ll stop before the rhyming gets out of hand and blame that poetic interlude on sleep deprivation.)

It’s almost Christmas, and I’m stuffing stockings, wrapping presents feeling anxiety about wrapping presents, and looking at packages that won’t pack and send themselves. Apparently I’m in charge of all this stuff.

Why isn’t it all coming together with big bows and advanced-planning?

Possibly because this guy is involved…

Until now, K-Pants thought Christmas was just like any other day. But now, he’s TWO! And Christmas is suddenly a glorious time filled with candy and lights and lollipops and treats and presents and cookies…

He’s like a toddler superhero with the vocabulary of a well-trained parrot, the stomach of a goat, and the self-discipline of a terrier. He finds ANY sugar in the house and spends most of the day shouting “MORE TREATS MAMA! MORE TREATS MAMA! TWO. MORE. TREATS. MAMAAAA!

If I say no, he just pushes up his little toddler chair to the counter and steals them off the tray.*

*Don’t worry, friends–there are consequences.

It all started at the beginning of the month when we made two batches of sugar cookies. He wanted all the dough, all the cookies, and all the crumbs.

He circled the stove like a vulture, waiting for fresh kill to come out. I knew there were only more cookies to come in December, so I let him have at it.

Go ahead, Mr. Pants. Eat all the cookies you want. More? Sure! How many? 17? You got it! See what your little tummy thinks about that: Muah ha ha ha haaaa!!!!

But then there were no digestive repercussions: no horrible tummy ache, no ensuing diarrhea.

Biology, why did you fail me? I needed the Pants to learn that you can’t eat sugar as your only food group.

And more and more cookies and chocolates have poured in to the house. I can’t make it stop. Mr. Pants has only eaten cookies or gold-foil wrapped chocolate coins for weeks. Yesterday he had some potato chips when we were out and I was happy that he was eating something savory.

Someone slap me! I’ve got to claw my way out of this craziness.

I also need to mail some packages, wrap some presents, and relearn what a vegetable is. So please accept my apologies for late gifts wrapped in coupon mailings and junk-mail envelopes. I’m busy looking for the produce aisle.

Peanut Butter Bacon Cookies

Food and photos on Wednesday feels like an instant pick-me-up. Hope it works for you, too!

This is peanut-butter-chocolate-chip-bacon cookie dough. Original recipe is Barefoot Contessa (but no bacon: Barefoot just does PB and chocolate). I was feeling down, so I thought I would make the cookies irrationally decadent.

My husband’s first reaction was, “They are…interesting.” When I went and flung myself on the bed (the cookies weren’t the only irrational thing in the house last night) he recanted and said they were delicious, but they just had to grow on you. I admit that mixing savory and sweet is always a gamble.

I hope you enjoy the gratuitous pumpkin appearance.

You’ll notice that these bad boys look pretty milk toast…until you bite in and get a smoky flavor. When I had a warm one from the oven, the taste made me want to throw some sea salt on top, and maybe a dollop of cream!

Any weird flavor combos that have piqued your interest lately??

Oh, Cookies!

The reason I’ve grown up (besides biological predisposition) is to make cookies whenever I want to. Christmas? Of course! But how about Friday afternoon, or Thursday night, or Monday morning? All excellent times for cookies. If you’ve hung out with me, chances are, you’ve had some cookies.


One of my four favorite seasons for cookies is summer. It’s ideal because of three words: ice cream sandwiches. When I was pregnant with K-Pants I stalked the Jacques Torres Chocolate shop, which has possibly the best ice cream sandwich in the world. (Photo at right.)

It was the hot end of May: clear ice cream sandwich time. And I was ready: very pregnant and very ready. Memorial Day came and passed, but no sandwiches. Just a sign in the window that said, “They’re coming!”

Two days before K-Pants was born, I stormed in with my raging hormones and my friend Lila and demanded a sandwich. Where were they? Tears started to form.

No sandwiches.

This desperation, however, begot one of the best gifts of my life: a personal hospital-room delivery of two giant Jacques ice cream sandwiches from my dear friend Hope. She is forever enshrined in the Friends Wall of Fame. (Without the delight of the ice cream sandwich, K-Pants had to fall back on Rachel Ray’s bacon-wrapped shrimp to start labor.)

So here we are in mid-September, and I cannot deny it’s the bitter end of ice cream sandwich season. I’m paying tribute by making my favorite ice cream sandwich cookie: Ginger Thins from The Joy of Cooking.

Whereas other recipes make 4–6 dozen cookies, this one makes 400 on a good day. You can fill them with vanilla ice cream, or hazelnut, or chocolate, or butter pecan. A serving in our house is 10 ice cream sandwiches.

Here’s the recipe (courtesy of The Joy of Cooking, 1997 ed., p. 707). They can be made in 30 minutes. Ask K-Pants.

Ginger Thins

About Three Hundred ¾-Inch Wafers
“Mme. Bu Wei, in her charming book, How to Cook and Eat in Chinese, tells us that [these] little cakes…should have the diameter of a quarter when baked, for they toughen if they are larger.”
Preheat oven to 325 degrees.
¾ cup butter
1 cup brown sugar
1 beaten egg
¼ cup molasses
Sift together:
1 ½ cups sifted all-purpose flour
¼ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon each cloves, cinnamon and ginger (I like to really heap these in!)

Combine the above ingredients and stir until smooth.

Put dots of 1/8 teaspoon of dough 1 inch apart on a greased cookie sheet and bake 5 to 6 minutes. (I put the dough in an icing bag, or a Ziploc bag that you can cut a corner from, to pipe them out. It’s WAY easier. Also, baking 5 minutes is generally perfect, and you can bake two sheets at a time.)

Cool on a rack. Cookies snap off if you twist the sheet slightly. (Or they pop right off if you push them with a spatula into a colander, which will hold them more easily than a normal wire rack.)

Now, gobble them up!