Haven’t done one of these fuckers in a while.
My house is in desperate need of a clean and I have some chick coming over tomorrow morning for a meeting about The Awesome Program that Boo is in one day a week this year (gotta find funding for the other day yet but that is a whole ‘nuther whine) and I can feel my body protesting with every movement of every muscle so PERFECT OPPORTUNITY FOR BAKING MOTHERFUCKERS!
Last night was hotter than the underside of my boobs in a polyester bra, so when I got up Boo was still laying sprawled out on the bonus sitting room lounge as is his want on super hot nights. And as always he was wrapped up like a burrito in a doona with a fan blowing full speed on his back. What is with that shit?
So in order to get some help with the cookie prep, I made a lot of sighing and clattering noises and when he rolled over I was all ‘OMG GOOD MORNING! Get me the eggs’
Because any fucker that decides to sleep on the couch just off the kitchen has to help with the cookie prep. Its in the instructions.
Enough of the witty banter, trying to be like all the professional baker bitches. Here is the fucking recipe.
I was going to mop the floor but this seemed to be a more appealing use of my time peanut butter choc chip cookies.
360g S/R flour
1 tsp salt
170g butter, room temperature
125g peanut butter
200g brown sugar
2 teaspoons vanilla
400g mixed choc chips – I used 250g dark and 150g white cause that is what I had open
Preheat the oven to 180c. Or as Boo calls it ‘Mum’s signature temperature’
Get any lazy fuckers laying on nearby couches to help with prep. This means get all your ingredients ready beforehand. Use this as a teaching opportunity, talk about measuring ingredients and how Americans are fucking annoying with their fucking up recipes with their stupidhead measurement systems and how you have to convert all your fucking recipes to motherfucking weights now because they are such stupid heads and how it is so much easier if you clean up as you go. And watch how said lazy fuckers clean themselves up all the way to their bedroom and shut their door and ignore your calling them to come back and help no matter how many times you call them to come back.
Whisk the flour and salt together with a fork and set aside.
Mix the ever loving shit out of the butter, peanut butter, brown and white sugar until they are light and fluffy and the noise of the mixer drowns out all of your swears.
Change beaters, have a seat, resist a little nap, check your emails and see that work has emailed you and the adrenaline from that little mind fuckery gives you the energy to go on and continue with the recipe. HUZZAH!
Add the eggs, one at a time, mixing in between additions until incorporated into the mixture and then add the vanilla. Mmmmm vanilla. Remember to make Moscow Mules. (related because the vanilla reminds you of the vanilla vodka you had but hated, but then you bought some more vodka the other day… and you have limes. And ginger beer.)
Turn the mixer on lowest setting and spoon flour mixture in until completely mixed in. You may have to turn the mixer off and scrape down if you don’t have one of those beater blade thingies that do it for you. Time savers are the bomb diggity.
Stir in chocolate chips by hand. Or spoon. Probably spoon is more hygienic.
Drop I dunno… cookie sized? dollops of dough – it is pretty soft so you can’t roll it but it keeps it shape – on baking paper lined sheets and bake in the oven for 10 minutes.
They come out super soft so you need to let them sit on the trays for 10 minutes or they will fall apart.
Come back into the kitchen 11 minutes later and find this:
There were really fucking pretty ones, so these are the runts. The ones Boo deemed the rejects. Imagine how good the BEST ones looked. DELICIOUS.
Don’t imagine how my floors look though. Fuck it.
P.S. Dollop the rest of the dough on a tray and chuck in the freezer for a few hours to harden. Then chuck them all in a ziplock bag. Then you have cookies ready to bake EVERY DAY. Ready for when your workplace sends you mindfuck emails or your floor needs cleaning or you are on your fourth rewash of a batch of towels that never seem to make it to the damn line…