Thursday, January 28, 2010
An American Gift
Last time I was in the states I decided the crew I work with needed to taste a REAL American chocolate chip cookie because they just don't exist here in France. You can find a chocolate chip cookie if you look hard enough but they're nothing like the ones I make, the best recipe in the world, the one and only Nestle Tollhouse. I love 'em, I love 'em so much.
I have tried dozens of other recipes but always come back to this one like a faithful friend.
I arrived home tonight after work determined to bake some for the morning shift tomorrow with the ingredients I brought back in my suitcase and now I'm up late on a serious sugar high.
Whenever I make chocolate chip cookies I can't help but think of my college roommates and their love for under-baked cookies. I'm a serious stickler about having my cookies baked perfectly. Not doughy, too crispy or overly dry but with a crunch that lets me know they were made with real butter.
Despite my strong feelings on the subject I still have their voices looming over me every time I attempt a batch... I don't think they would be proud of the morsels I made tonight (actually that one pictured in the center looks semi-doughy/worthy) and you know what maybe they're right and everyone else likes them doughy and maybe the Frenchies would too but they're a gift from me and my strange neurotic like for "perfectly" baked cookies. I think they'll still be devoured tomorrow, or rather I hope? Who doesn't like a homemade chocolate chip cookie anyway?
(I just had a flash nightmare thought of the plate tomorrow untouched at family meal and everyone talking French under their breathe as to not let me know they hate them...)
No way, not possible.