This here’s a story ’bout instant cookies, yo.
My husband recently brought home some exotic chocolate. Lucky for me, that’s not an unusual occurrence; we’re both indulgent and adventurous chocolate lovers. However, this chocolate was so seriously dark, it toyed with savoriness. This bar seemed to blur the line. As much as I never thought I’d write these words, it was too intense, too rich, too chocolatey.
But context is everything. I was sure it’d be delicious in a sweeter framework, but one that left its intensity intact: chocolate chip cookies. And it was. It made extraordinary – even fierce – and satisfying cookies.
But here’s what leads me to this post: I was making cookies to use up some chocolate. There was no cookie-demanding occasion, nor was I in a particular mood for cookies. In fact, I had no interest in having a batch of cookies around. Normally, lack of cookie desire indicates a serious medical problem that would send me in an ambulance to the emergency room or in search of an exorcist, but this time … I don’t know, something felt right about it. I felt like having a cookie, maybe two, or maybe only half of one large cookie … but I had a pound of chocolate. At first I thought about turning one of these “cookies for one” recipes on its head by finding a way to incorporate an entire pound of chocolate into it. But who are these people kidding? Everyone who knows me knows that I consider a recipe that produces two dozen cookies to be “cookies for one.” This is exactly why, until I snap out of this one-cookie funk, that most of my friends are going to start to suspect that I’ve been body-snatched by aliens.
Anyway, getting closer to my point: I always chill my chocolate chip cookies (and in fact any drop cookies) in the fridge at least overnight before baking them, because way back in 2008, Jacques Torres told me to. Not personally. He said it via the New York Times. This was way before climate scientists had invented fake news, so I naively believed it. Researchers say you get the most benefit in the first 30 minutes, but Jacques recommends three days, and I swear by it. Now, admittedly, not everyone can just put cookie dough in the fridge and leave it there. For three days. It takes an iron will. Usually, when I want cookies (aka, when it suddenly dawns on me that I need cookies now or I might die), the time it takes to get the butter into the mixing bowl is already too long. By the time I’m dropping the cookies onto the baking sheet, I’m already violently shaking with acute cookie withdrawal syndrome.
But finally, here’s my point: once you’ve embraced the idea of keeping your cookie dough in the fridge, or once you’ve somehow forced yourself to do it, a whole new world opens up … one in which you can scoop yourself out a soup spoon full of cookie dough and nibble on it just because. Then the realization hits you: you are never more than about 15 minutes from freshly baked cookies. Company pops in? Cookies. Feel like dessert? Cookies? No internet? Cookies. Sad? Cookies. Happy? Cookies. In the space of a commercial break, you can have cookies baking in the oven. Untie your tie, and by the time you’ve pulled on your pajamas: cookies. And believe me, there is no better feeling in the world than to be laying on the couch, bored, and suddenly have the thought “there’s cookie dough in the fridge” pop into your head out of nowhere.
So, I used up all my exotic chocolate, and I did have my one cookie (which means two cookies, because seriously). And then a few days later, I had another. And for about a week or so, I had them whenever I felt like it, fresh from the oven. Instant cookies.
Credit for images on this page: Make It Like a Man! This content was not solicited, nor written in exchange for anything. In doing research for this recipe, I discovered that some people have health concerns about leaving cookie dough in the fridge, but then I wonder why people with health concerns are eating chocolate chip cookies at all.
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