A few nights ago, a friend of mine made Martha Stewart’s double chocolate cookies. I asked for the recipe, and made them. Somehow, mine didn’t turn out like the ones I’d tried of my friend’s; fudgy in the middle, yet a bit crunchy on the bite, not undercooked, but definitely not crispy throughout. This is the second time she’s brought these cookies to a dinner party, and both times I nearly filled up on cookies before the dinner was on the table. (A side note – both times at this party, the dinner theme was Mexican food, and both times I ended up nearly unable to shove myself away from the table. I had to discreetly unbutton the top button of my pants, and supress the urge to let out huge passages of air -fore or aft- before I could get into my own car and let ‘er rip. One thing you can be sure of among my friends: they know how to cook.) These cookies are nearly transcendent, yet when I bake them, they turn out to be a huge disappointment. I’m not sure if I’m baking them too long, or if I’ve got the wrong Feng Shui in the kitchen, or if my friend is sprinkling crack on her cookies, but whatever it is, mine just aren’t hitting the mark. Somehow, I still find them edible, and their inferiority has only slightly put a dent in the velocity in which I am consuming them. I guess I’ll just have to try the recipe again. Besides, the dough, if you have some left, rolls up and looks exactly like a turd with very little effort – if you like surprising people.
These cookies are killing me March 6, 2009