THE GREAT COOKIE CAPER

As I may have mentioned in a previous post, by husband and I gave each other a beautiful candy apple red Kitchenaid mixer for Christmas.  Now, I love to cook.  I do not love to bake.  I actually have never owned a really good stand mixer.  I remember my mother's much-used mixer which, when we cleaned her house out, was probably still running after 40+ years.  My plan for this mixer was that dear husband would learn to bake, especially his dearly loved tollhouse cookies.  The reason I do not like to bake is the fact that measurements must be exact and precision is not one of my strong points.  It is, however, my husband's. 

A few nights ago, Ken was wandering around with something on his mind.  I was obviously through with the kitchen for the evening.  I had cooked dinner and I was finished.  He realized that cookie making was not on my schedule.  He had never baked anything in his life.  He was desperate.  He finally started hauling out ingredients with much sighing and grumbling.  "What are you doing, dear?" said I.  "I am making my own tollhouse cookies since you obviously aren't going to," said he.  I gave him a few brief instructions, but he was impatient so I just let him go on his own.  I giggled to myself, just knowing the end result was going to be, well,  interesting.

Never underestimate a man who is desperate for tollhouse cookies.  One note:  Ken's version of tollhouse cookies is that they have only a few chocolate chips per cookie, have raisins and are flat and chewy.  I know, I know.  I have told him numerous times that these are not tollhouse cookies, but he is adamant about this subject.

Guess what?!  Yes, the cookies were delicious.  He doubled the butter and brown sugar, mixed them BY HAND (sorry Kitchenaid) and baked them under a watchful eye for much less than the usual time.  We did not have raisins, but we did have the chips.  The cookies were flat and chewy, buttery and perfect, with 2.5 chips per cookie. 

I ate more than my share and look forward to my husband's next desperate act in the kitchen.