Tuesday, December 29, 2009
You know when you make a batch of cookies and the recipe (or tube of frozen dough) says: makes 4 dozen? I'd like to know in what Universe any batch of dough ever made 4 dozen?? For reals. I mean you have to first take into account the raw cookie dough you consume whilst baking said cookies. Including your little helper elves (please don't give me guff about raw eggs, k, 'cause we all survived it in our childhood of cookie-dough eating, and I also gave my kids peanut butter before they were three - sue me). So including your elves and yourself that's easily half a dozen potential cookies gone before they even make it to the pan. Then there's the less than accurate measuring for the formation of each cookie. Usually a recipe says: drop by heaping tablespoon. Again, in what Universe? Our heaping tablespoon is usually the biggest serving spoon I can find to scoop up dough, and less than delicately dumped onto the cookie sheet. So it equals more like three tablespoons per cookie instead of one. That takes away at least a dozen more potential cookies (please don't ask if this math is correct, or worse yet figure out the math on that yourself -- it hurts my head to think that much, and my cell/calculator is in the other room and I'm too lazy to stop typing and pull up the computer calculator. And to that point, recently my eldest saw a real calculator -- you know, Texas Instruments -- and asked me what it was. Sigh....) Anywho, we're down 1-1/2 dozen potential cookies by this point. Then of course each fresh batch out of the oven needs a taste tester. Or three. You know, to make sure the cookie dough is fully cooked - you have to watch out for the raw egg in raw cookie dough. So three taste testers at two cookies each per pan, give or take, that's another dozen or so. Again, stay away from the math on that. And finally, the cookies are all finished baking. Their smell has permeated the house (which is usually why I make cookies in the first place - to get rid of the "boy" smell in my house). They are lined up on a cooling rack, ready to consume. They are perfectly golden. Perfectly gooey with deliciousness. And, of course, by this point myself and my elves have upset tummies and want nothing to do with the one dozen cookies we have just prepared.
Posted by Crib Tales at 4:39 PM