Flat cookie culprit
When we went to the end of the year teacher celebration at a local family farm, I covered my plate of chocolate chip cookies with a towel, slipped them on table of desserts and skeddadled before I could be associated with the offending items that resembled wilted, flat potato chips with little black mounds. At the end of the event, after goat petting, kitten chasing, pig-humping extravaganza (yes, it’s true. It was a sign), I returned to the table, and, when I thought no one was looking, lifted my plate.
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| I would have given you a pic of the flat cookies, but all I found was a pic of the feeing |
“Were those yours?” comes a question from behind me. Ugh. The voice of a friend who happens to be a bonified chef. She is with her husband.
“I’m so sorry they turned out terrible,” said, cutting off the eventual badness that was going to be next.
“They were great!” her husband said. “What’d you do?”
“I made them flat,” was my response.
“That was how I knew they were homemade,” said the chef.
It was true. The two plates I brought had a smattering of crumbs. The other store-purchased cupcakes, brownies and other items in boxes.
I bemowned the flatness.
“It’s the soda,” said the chef. “It’s probably old.”
Did you know that? Went home, bought some new soda, and walla! no more flat cookies.
**Update- the following morning, 3:42 AM.
I get this text.
‘Sarah. it could be butter. Cut the butter by half and replace with lard or shortening. makes all the difference’
So texts mom.
I was up, sleeping restlessly. I text back:
‘mom. thx. we are bats. go to bed.’