At the moment I think I’ll use any excuse for baking. These bad boys have 3 good excuses – a friend passed me the recipe (it would be rude not to try baking them), they were to be sold for Red Nose Day at Weasel’s nursery (it would be super rude not to bake for charity) and, you know, it’s important to do activities with your kids (it would be neglectful not to, right?!). The main reason is of course that I could happily survive on a diet of nothing but raw dough. Not just cookie dough, but dough of any kind, much to Husband’s dismay. Even Weasel told me off as I was getting my tongue caught in the electric mixer whisk (obviously not when it was still attached, I’m not that bad), saying “What you DOING mummy? Naughty mummy, no eating dough”. It’s bad when your toddlers start to tell you off.
Of course the recipe is from a book, but I got it off a friend, so I’ll pretend it’s original material right? Ingredients: 250g plain flour, 1/2 tsp (or however much your toddler decides to dump in) of bicarbonate soda, 1/2 tsp salt (I measured this one as it could so badly go wrong), 170g melted butter, 200g soft dark brown sugar, a nice glug of vanilla, 1 egg, 1 egg yolk, 325g of chocolate chips. We doubled the recipe, but these measures makes 18 cookies. We also added a bag of white and a bag of milk chocolate chips. We rolled it into a ball, then smushed it a bit of on the tray. It gets cooked at 170c for 15-17 minutes
Can you play spot the difference? No, not the cookies, too obvious. That’s right, the trousers have changed, we’re potty training! So all cooking (and days out, and crafts, and everything else) is constantly a game of “Do you need the loo Weasel?” “No mummy!!!” “Weasel, have you already had a wee, is that why you don’t need the loo?” Yes mummy”.
Helped by my awesome new baking tray (thank you Husband with ulterior motives), these cookies kicked ass and I think Weasel enjoyed herself. One watch out is not to be a greedy, impatient cow like me and try to take the cookies off the tray the instant they come out the oven. You have to wait a couple of minutes or they fall apart. Check how many cookies it took me before I realised this:
Although to be fair to me, I did have someone shouting they needed more milk, announcing “I have big farts mummy!” and screaming “Don’t touch, hot!!” every time I went anywhere near the oven. I’m pretty sure Michel Roux Jr donesn’t have to put up with that kind of bossiness in his kitchen.