The Cookie Curse

I'm appallingly bad at math, have ZERO directional sense, and must be repeatedly instructed on how to do certain menial tasks like operating a photocopier or making coffee. But if there's one thing I know I'm good at, it's my performance in a certain room of the house.

The kitchen, you pervs.

Yep, I love to cook and bake (hence the extra thighs), and I'm pretty damn good at it. I can whip up just about anything and have a grand old time doing it. Even if a recipe doesn't turn out the exact way I anticipated, it's rarely ever bad. So you can imagine how frustrated I am with the fact that (hides face) I seem to have lost my ability to make chocolate chip cookies.

I'm completely baffled. I used to make delicious chocolate chip cookies. Chocolate chip cookies that were light and soft and chewy. Chocolate chip cookies that garnered rave reviews. But now? My chocolate chip cookies are entirely unappealing - in fact, I threw a whole batch away last night. They're flat like pancakes, too brown on the bottom and crispy around the edges, yet the chips clump into the middle of the cookie and are underdone. WTF?

I use the same recipe I've always used. The same ingredients, the same proportions, the same brands. I can't blame it on my oven, because they come out like that in other ovens, too. I can't blame it on the altitude, because they were fine when we lived in Vegas. I have tried switching baking pans, varying cooking times, chilling the dough beforehand ... to no avail. What gives?

Maybe if I'd let Colin help more, they'd turn out better. Maybe it's some sort of bad-mommy karma. He likes to help me bake, and I know it's good to do things like that together, but I only let him when I'm not opposed to cleaning up half a cannister's worth of dumped flour or wiping a sticky mess of sugar granules off the floor. Sometimes I just want to get the cookies mixed up and in the oven in a hurry, so he just gets to watch. Like not too long ago, when our exchange went something like this:

Colin: "Can I crack the eggs?"
Me: "No, let Mommy do it."
Colin: "Can I use the mixer by myself?"
Me: "No, it's dangerous."
Colin: "Can I eat some of the dough?"
Me: "Not yet, I'm not finished mixing it."
Colin, with an exasperated sigh: "Well can I lick the damn bowl, then?"

I was so surprised that I couldn't even reprimand him ... I just turned my back and exhaled silent laughter for a minute.

Then I handed him the damn spatula and told him to lick away. :)