The Butcher, The Baker, The Candlestick Maker

"I don't need no stinking directions." Ahhh, the man's mantra and my man is no exception to this cliché. Yesterday, while the girls were finishing up their homework Jon had a sweet thought (or tooth) and decided to make them some chocolate chip cookies. I was in the other room reading a very intriguing novel and thinking 'no need to get up he has this under control'.

Skip ahead twenty minutes:

I walk into the kitchen as the smell of sweet chocolate and buttery goodness draws me irresistibly and my mouth is watering in anticipation of the freshly baked cookies. To my dismay I find a distraught baker and a batch of mutated-looking cookies. "I don't know what happened.", says the baker. "Well, don't worry I'm sure they taste fine.", I say as I eagerly pop one into my mouth. They weren't fine. Something was amiss and I aimed to get to the bottom of it. I scan the kitchen for clues:

1) Batter in big plastic bowl instead of the Kitchen-aid mixer bowl. "Honey, did you mix these by hand?" "yes." "Impressive. It must have been difficult to cream the butter and sugar." "What? Oh, man I just threw all the ingredients in the bowl and stirred." AHA!

2) The cookies look exceptionally flat and puddly. "Dear, you did put baking soda in the mix, right?" "I couldn't find it. Isn't this self-rising flour?" AHA!

3) Chocolate Chip Bag w/ recipe on back no where to be seen. AHA! AHA! AHA!

He didn't follow the directions and was a terrible guesser at the mechanics of a chocolate chip cookie. "Can you make another batch the right way?" Jon asks me pleadingly. I oblige and with my little recipe in hand I produce a perfect batch of moist and delicious cookies. And this is why Moms will always make the best cookies.

Ciao, Areli