Sunday: Do the BIG grocery shopping trip. Be all content that I have used my time wisely and that our cabinets are now set for the week.
Monday: Realize on the way home that one little chili pepper would be great to add to tonight’s tortilla soup. (Geez, Michelle, why didn’t you think of that yesterday, you crazy girl?) Swing into the nearest Giant to pick up the tiniest of chili peppers . . . and a pack of gum wrapped in packaging that resembles a maze.
Tuesday: Oh, crap, who forgot the buns for tonight’s burgers? Gotta have those because Matt always offers notable groans when I mention that we can use regular bread.
Wednesday: Hell no, I’m NOT going to the grocery today. We eat our spaghetti without meatballs because in my rush on Sunday, I just forgot to grab them altogether. Also, I just left a girl who cried over the B she’d received on her essay and a boy who told me that school was useless and that if he needed to know anything, he could just turn on his TV. He called Hemingway stupid, too. Do you know that were Hemingway alive today, he just might make you his next hunting target for that?
Thursday: Okay, so I know I was all irritated yesterday, but I’m craving some of that baby yogurt, and I’ve ripped through all four containers this week. I’ll just quietly stop into Giant.
Friday: Yes, I spent $32 when I went in yesterday to get YoBaby!. Why do you ask?
Saturday: Are you serious that tomorrow is Sunday already? I usually make my shopping list on Saturday. Better get busy this week because I will not forget anything. I know I said that last Saturday. Stop bringing it up.
And so it goes . . .
A conversation I had last year at lunch spurred me to jot down a week-long example of the bittersweet relationship I have with my local Giant. During that lunch, a few of us fine ladies were shoveling food down our gullets in the 27.5 minutes we are allotted to do so. After getting settled, microwaving, chewing and swallowing, we were left with about 11.2 minutes to discuss something. That day, we talked of cookies–eating them, loving them, making and baking them. Usual cookie talk. Most of what we said is extremely general, except for one response. To someone else’s comment, I replied, “Yeah, you know you’ve arrived when you have all of the stuff to make cookies from scratch right in your cabinet.” I’m not 100% confident that the stares I received meant my statement was odd, but that’s how I interpreted them.
Forget the money, the fame, the pride or the freedom. Basic kitchen staples: Keys to The American Dream. When I made my comment, I meant that having these all ready in the kitchen meant I could, on a whim, hearken back to that mythical “simpler time” when people made things from scratch more often, really liked each other, and lit warm fires and cozy candles. (Men were baking from scratch, no one told anyone to “Shut up,” and everyone’s eyes stayed intact even while reading with crumby candlelight, too, which solidifies the mythical nature of my “simpler time.”) Most importantly, having staples in my cabinet meant that the grocery store might as well be a small entity located miles away, just like years ago. Back then, my YoBaby! cravings would just have to wait (for another 50 years or so).
At lunch that day, my version of The American Dream hung out in the nether regions of my cabinets. Today, it still does. I have a hard time even writing that with a straight face because freedom and pride are pretty friggin’ key to The American Dream, for crying out loud. But, hey, the chocolate chip cookie is an American icon and can easily carry the symbolism of The American Dream on its chewy top. So, when you bite into one, raise your cookie high to the sky and revere its symbolic weight. Know that you are doing something right. Finally, if you get a chance, send a box of cookies to a soldier, to a volunteer or to someone you know doing something to maintain some American ideals. With this piece, I have just inspired myself to do the same.
Oatmeal Walnut Chocolate Chip Cookies
Adapted from a random internet source that I can no longer find, but I know, via notes, that I’ve made about four changes from the original recipe
*I’ve reduced some of the sugary contents for this recipe because I don’t want to feel sick after eating a cookie. I’ve more to eat after just one, you know. Anyhow, my favorite parts of this cookie are its level of sweetness, its soft and chewy texture, and its subtle aftertaste. If you like your cookies on the sweeter side, increase the sugar to 1/2 cup and the syrup to 2 Tablespoons.
Difficulty: Easy Prep time: 15-20 minutes of prep + 12 mins per batch of baking Makes: 30-36 medium-size cookies
- 1 cup flour
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/2 teaspoon backing soda
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 2 cups rolled oats
- 1/2 cup coarsely chopped walnuts
- 8 Tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature
- 1/2 cup lightly packed brown sugar
- 1/3 cup sugar
- 1 large egg
- 1 Tablespoon syrup, maple or regular
- 1/2 teaspoon vanilla
- 1 cup semisweet chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup shredded coconut (optional)
LET’S DO THIS!!!
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
4. Beat in egg until smooth.
5. Add syrup and vanilla. Mix on medium high for approximately 20 seconds.
6. Switch mixer to lowest speed and begin mixing in dry ingredients in medium bowl (step #2) 1/2 cup at a time. Continue mixing dry ingredients into wet until you are out of dry ingredients. Continue to mix until well blended.
7. Add chocolate chips and coconut. Mix until well blended.
8. Scoop each “cookie-to-be” on an average-sized spoon. Round slightly and place on pre-greased cookie sheet.
9. Bake at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for approximately 12 minutes. (I turn the pan at seven minutes.) Ovens will vary. Keep an eye on your cookies. **Your cookies may look slightly underdone, but I like to take them out at this point and have them cook themselves for the remainder. I find that it keeps them chewier longer.
Happy cooking! Happy eating!