Bad Choices

On December 12, my dad, sister, and I went shopping. Everything was on a good sale. I plopped a bag of light brown sugar in the cart, and I was so happy that the morsels were on sale, too! I got a bag of everything: white chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, semi-sweet chocolate chips, and dark chocolate chips. From there, I knew, the next thing to be mixed up in my house was going to feature one of those many chips.

Well, not just one chip, of course. One kind. Know what I mean?

Now, before we get into any stories of baking calamities (which is what always happens), I'm going to have to entertain you with a life story. This one's gonna be good.

December 12-14th marked the three days of an AlMaghrib class called Deception. It was an in-depth study of Shaytan/the devil. I didn't know why I wanted to take it, but I knew why I wanted to take it. (My mind is so contradictory.) Things like these scare me yet they interest me at he same time. Sometimes I think I have a second mind. After all, I do have two brain halves. My dominant mind is the one I'm used to, but this other mind makes me think 'Do I really not know the reason behind that?' or 'Did I really not do that?' etc., and I really hate this other mind because it makes me feel and look like I'm not telling the truth when I actually am.

Anyway, the class was probably THE best AlMaghrib class I ever took. That exam isn't going to intimidate me!

The only boring part about the class was lunch time. I preferred sitting in class, laughing at jokes and understanding stories. At lunchtime, the whole classroom was empty because everybody was at restaurants eating burgers and pizza. I/we just had fruits, power bars, and Chex Mix. While eating a power bar, I analyzed it and guessed how it could have been made. (It was chocolate covered.)

So. To the point. I don't really remember what sort of life story I was going to tell you. (Which is why I shouldn't leave a blog post alone for more than a day.)

Aren't they just fab? (No. They're not.)

I have a question for you after you analyze the photo. Do those look like oatmeal-chocolate-chip cookies to you?

No?

I didn't think so.

I never should have let my sister choose what I was going to make. That was a bad choice. She made a bad choice. Bad choices lead to more bad choices. I should've known.

Well, anyhow. Mistake report coming up.

There are hardly any places to catch a good patch of sunlight in this house/apartment. [Bleh, I'll call it a house.] The windows are blinded [literally], and the living room has a sliding door that is also blinded. I prefer curtains and windows, man. I DON'T CARE IF THEY'RE SO LAST CENTURY.

Anyway, I brought that up because I like to let sticks of butter soften in the sunlight. Because 1. Patches of sunlight are so pretty. and 2. It's faster. x3

Fortunately, some sunlight was streaking in the kitchen on top of the dryer, so I placed all the sticks of butter there. After leaving them there for about half an hour, I checked on them and they were still hard as stone, or so I thought until I poked them. Okay, a tad squishy. However not enough to fulfill my expectations. I unwrapped them and put them on a plate. That would work, right?

...right?

Detected hesitation tells you NO.

At least, I'm hoping so.

The recipe told me 1 1/3 cups of unsalted butter, softened. After taking them out I thought, "That's quite a lot." But I couldn't argue with the recipe, of course. (I can't argue with most things/people.)

The recipe also called for 1 1/3 cups of sugar, AND 3/4 cups of brown sugar. (If you measure these out, you'll see how much this is.)

Time was running away like a cheetah, so I dumped the fuzzy sticks of butter with the sugars and mixed 'em up. Not sure if the butter was a problem, but most likely. Ugh! I need to seriously take my baking seriously! Remember this important piece of advice from Mum, "Always take the butter out an hour before you want to bake."

Okay, I got distracted by the word 'Mum' because it reminded me of something. Egh.

When my sister was helping me spoon the batter on the cookie sheets, she said, "When something's wrong with the cookies, it's either because there's too much sugar or there's too much butter."

Guilt twisted inside me.  

But, that's what the recipe said! my other mind protested.

Shut it! my dominant mind argued.

Heh, said my face.

[Nothing] said I.

There was too much sugar and there was too much butter. No matter, The batter looked like this.

DO NOT EVEN TRY FEIGNING THAT FACE OF INNOCENCE, BATTER

 Beautiful, no?

No? Yeah, I feel you.

I like the background, too

Such natural lighting

Moving on to the process of cooking these little troublemakers. Like I mentioned before, I hate making drop cookies. It's messy. I hate getting my hands dirty. It's okay if everything else is dirty, but not my hands. NOT MY HANDS. EVAH.

Anyway, how do drop cookies even get your hands dirty. Because, somehow, the spoon handles get dirty and I have to touch them in order to use them.

My hands aren't typing what they're supposed to type. (-_- that sentence needed like 3 corrections -_-)

Every time I dropped the dough on the sheet, the cookies turned out flat and hideous and the extremity of golden brown.

much oven

 Yep. Like that.

My sister made some of the cookies. She rolled up little dough balls. They turned out like cookies with rounded tops, but flat bottoms, but much perfecter than those shown above. They brought tears of joy to my eyes, because they were so beautiful. So I made the rest of them like that.

There are about 3 of these in the cookie jar right now. I tried to eat one with milk this morning, but the milk was sour. :( And I usually have milk as a wake up drink. :( (Actually I have it as an everything drink XD)

This post is really late, so, buh-bai.

N