Since my baking extravaganza, I haven't made anything. But this morning, while eating my Oatmeal Squares for breakfast and perusing through a cookbook, I came across a recipe for peanut butter cookies that I have been wanting to try. So, after cleaning the kitchen and the living room and solving Eva's crisis, I made the cookies. Used my awesome cookie scoop to shape them into little balls, rolled them in sugar, and pressed them with the tines of a fork to make those beautiful criss cross lines that are a must on any good peanut butter cookie. I noticed the fork was sticking to the cookie alot more than normal. And it also made a tremendous amount of dough; the recipe said it would make about 18. After the first pan of 20, I realized I had a LOT more than 18 cookies on my hands. The first batch finished baking. I took them out of the oven and ran upstairs to see why Leighton wouldn't fall asleep. 20 minutes later, I came down to try a cookie. It was like biting into a big ball of peanut butter. Yuck. Maybe I didn't cook them enough. I know you're not supposed to do this, but I put them back in the oven. To no avail. I couldn't get them to harden, even though they were burning. Strange.
So I decided to make a second batch. (Still TONS of cookie dough left after 40 cookies.) Watched them carefully to bake for the right amount of time. Not done. Cooked them longer. Still doughy. Then I decided to give up on the stupid cookies. I threw away the rest of the batter and let the second batch sit out on the counter staring at me for the rest of the day. Occasionally, in passing, I would taste a little chunk...maybe if they sat out for a while, they would harden. I was angry, because I followed the recipe exactly, and the lady who wrote the recipe had ranted and raved about how good they were, it was a top-secret family recipe, blah blah. Was her taste really that different from mine? Would anyone think these peanut butter blobs were good?
I stewed over it all day. I called my mom and told her not to try the recipe because it was gross. Told Andrew the whole story, and lamented about wasting all those ingredients on gross cookies.
A few minutes ago, I was doing the dishes (the never-ending cycle) and staring at the recipe that still sat on the counter. I read over it again. It just didn't make sense. And then, the lightbulb in my head came on. Which proves I have at least a little baking experience under my belt, because I figured this out. (Obviously not quite enough, or I would have noticed this in the first place.) Where the recipe should have called for 3/4 cups of peanut butter, it said 3-4 cups. Are you kidding me? Who wrote this thing? And what idiot didn't catch it as she was scooping a half a jar of peanut butter into the mixer? That would be me. Dare I try this recipe again now that I've figured it out? I don't think so. I'll just stick with my trusted, old recipe. Maybe there is a little bit of my mom in me after all.