I made cookies for TI: Philly with the intent of shipping some to a friend now in California.  The half batch for him was prepared, placed in a zip-lock bag, and packed in a USPS priority box which I placed in the fridge until I had a chance to send it later that day.  Time ran out for me to send it before the weekend and on returning Monday evening and looking for something to eat, found the box I had forgotten to send.  I didn’t want to ship them at this point and happily ate them.  I did wind up shipping the cookies, it was just to me in the future.

Thank you, Conrad.  They were delicious.

I ran short on time to prepare Monday baked goods for work and was forced to use the boxed stuff.  I felt dirty at first and compromised by using the box brownie mix in a novel way.  I’d switch from oil to butter, add water and make cookies instead of brownies.  I even had a packet of caramel to add to the top to make them look like those adorable (type of cookie where there’s stuff in the center) that everyone likes.  I made thumb depressions in the cookie blanks, added the caramel, threw it in the oven at 350°F for 14 minutes and celebrated my victory by going to town on the beaters.

I pulled them from the oven left them to cool for an hour and came back to…. donuts.   Apparently, the caramel prevented the centers from cooking and with additional weight of the sauce the centers dropped through the grating of the cooling rack.  So, tomorrow I will go to work with not one but two goodies.  First, the donut cookies with their hole slightly creamed with caramel, and second the slightly under cooked centers that I’ve come to call caramel hats.

Stupid like a fox.

I got into work about 3.5 hours late today in a last-ditch attempt to cram in enough sleep to kill my cold and was still at work around 6:00 PM when Chris Fosmire walked in with a bucket of square buttery-looking cookies.  Chris grabbed a cookie and his coffee, sitting down in his Chair of Science and began coughing so I simply tried one.

I experience bad food like most people experience car accidents (and vice versa); I see that something terrible is about to happen and I try to summon my reflexes to avert disaster but usually fail.  On the other hand, when I’m about to get into a car accident (or run over kittens, another story) I take my hands and feet off the wheel and pedals, respectively and brace for impact.  I could hear the screams from the bundle of nerves with the painful task of transferring disgust-ions (the fundamental particle of crappy food) to my brain and back.  The cookie was supposed to a cinnamon butter cookie but was something far more sinister.

  • I think the cinnamon was replaced with pepper
  • I think the vegetable oil was replaced with Italian dressing
  • I think the flour was replaced with shredded sandpaper

Chris and I were unsure what to do with these infernal cookies until inspiration struck.  We put it in the marketing department breakroom with a innocuous sign that said “Thank You!” without saying who it came from.  Worse than a baby at the doorstep.

I got into work about 3.5 hours late today in a last-ditch attempt to cram in enough sleep to kill my cold and was still at work around 6:00 PM when Chris Fosmire walked in with a bucket of square buttery-looking cookies.  Chris grabbed a cookie and his coffee, sitting down in his Chair of Science and began coughing so I simply tried one.

I experience bad food like most people experience car accidents (and vice versa); I see that something terrible is about to happen and I try to summon my reflexes to avert disaster but usually fail.  On the other hand, when I’m about to get into a car accident (or run over kittens, another story) I take my hands and feet off the wheel and pedals, respectively and brace for impact.  I could hear the screams from the bundle of nerves with the painful task of transferring disgust-ions (the fundamental particle of crappy food) to my brain and back.  The cookie was supposed to a cinnamon butter cookie but was something far more sinister.

  • I think the cinnamon was replaced with pepper
  • I think the vegetable oil was replaced with Italian dressing
  • I think the flour was replaced with shredded sandpaper

Chris and I were unsure what to do with these infernal cookies until inspiration struck.  We put it in the marketing department breakroom with a innocuous sign that said “Thank You!” without saying who it came from.  Worse than a baby at the doorstep.