This is what I make when we have friends over and I realize suddenly that we have no dessert in the house. (One thing that I love about these is that it’s not an ordeal to make them. You can go from nothing to homemade cookies ready to eat in about 30 minutes)
This is what I make before a road trip.
This is what I make when I’m bored or antsy.
This is what I make for cookie exchanges. Or it is what I will make for cookie exchanges, if I ever get invited to one.
This is what I bring in for the kids I volunteer with at our end of semester celebrations. Forgetting every time that one of the kids is allergic to nuts and can’t eat anything that doesn’t list the ingredients on the package and even though these cookies are nut-free I really need to stop being a jerk and remember this next time.
In short, these cookies are a key number in my repertoire. I should probably come up with a better name for them.
The recipe is adapted from the Joy of Cooking‘s (75th anniversary edition) oatmeal raisin/oatmeal chocolate chip cookie recipe. What I love about this book is that it’s so comprehensive and reliable in its coverage of basic, fundamental recipes (chocolate chip cookies, biscuits, cornbread, etc.)
If you want to throw together some basic item that will turn up 29,000 slight variations if you search for it online, just do the Joy of Cooking version and adapt it from there, if needed.
This one is pretty basic, as cookies go:
One of my favorite things about baking is tossing eggshells across the room from the counter where I am standing into the kitchen sink. It’s not like it’s that far, or like it’s a very hard shot to make. But it makes me feel like a badass baker.
While the mixer is doing its thing, whisk up in a separate bowl the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. If you aren’t using a stand mixer for the batter, you might want to mix up the flour first so you have it ready to go.
Be sure that no little mountains of flour get stuck on top of the mixing paddle thing. This always happens to me.
When you have a smooth, creamy looking batter, stop the mixer and scrape down the bowl again to make sure everything’s been incorporated and obviously sample how the batter tastes so far. Then turn it back on low and slowly add somewhere between 1/2 and 1 cup EACH of butterscotch chips and chocolate chips (or stir them in by hand).
Once that’s all stirred in, add around 3 cups of oatmeal to the mix. (original recipe calls for 3 1/2 cups). You should now have the best looking dough of all time.
Plop hefty spoonfuls of the delicious dough onto cookie sheets and bake for 12-14 minutes. If you’re breaking a cardinal rule of baking like I always do by putting more than one cookie sheet in the oven at a time, switch them about halfway through the bake time.
The JoC recipe claims it makes 48 cookies. My cookies are usually a little bigger I think, and I get about 36 out of this recipe.
Ok, ok, here’s what you actually need to know:
Recipe for butterscotch chocolate chip oatmeal cookies
Preheat oven to 350°. Whisk together:
1 3/4 C. flour
3/4 tsp. baking soda
3/4 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
In a separate bowl, beat until well-blended:
1 C. (two sticks) butter
1/4 C. sugar
1 1/2 C. packed brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 1/2 tsp. vanilla
Stir in the flour mixture. Then stir in:
~1 C. chocolate chips
~1 C. butterscotch chips
~3 C. oatmeal
Spoon the dough onto the cookie sheets in evenly sized balls. Bake for 12-14 minutes at 350°. When you take them out of the oven, let them stand for a minute or two before trying to move them.
Sometimes I make only half the batch and roll the rest into little balls and keep them in the freezer. Then you can make a couple of cookies whenever you want until you run out. I haven’t figured out yet the ideal way to bake them–the fact that they’re frozen changes the timing and how they bake up, of course. They’re not quite as good as fresh-baked fresh. But they mostly turn out OK.
P.S. You might have noticed that I switched from using the word batter to using the word dough about halfway through the recipe. This was a deliberate decision, but not an informed one. I think of it as batter if it’s liquidy, goopy, and pourable, and dough if it’s moldable and hold its shape. But I don’t know the real definitions of these terms. I’m going to go look it up in the trusty old Joy of Cooking. In the meantime, if you know, will you tell me?