A few weeks ago, I sent out an urgent Tweet begging for advice on how to turn ordinary bread into delicious cookies. The general consensus was, “Honey,just toast it and sprinkle it with sugar & cinnamon.” This was no good, no good at all. “Nice try,” I thought, “but that’s just TOAST and probably the fanciest thing my mother ever made me for breakfast. So no.”
I was thinking about it again earlier tonight, and, feeling particularly ambitious, I exclaimed, “Hey, Chooch let me enter the kitchen and bake you up some cookies, child.” And he was like, “Hold on, I’m inviting viruses onto the computer.”
Let me break this down for you in Pretentious Food Blog-style, because I want to make sure everyone gets to experience this culinary delight.
- FIRST, get out some slices of bread and tear it a new asshole. I used some sort of Roman wheat bread bullshit.
- Pretend like you’re making boobs out of Play-Doh and roll your bread pieces up real good. You can leave the crust on; I did. For some.
- Next, think of things that taste real good and sweet to you. (Preferably things that are not a part of someone’s anatomy, because I’m not so sure that would bake well and I don’t know any cannibals IRL to call up for advice. Unless Jeffrey Dahmer had a cookbook?)
- Once you got some sugar plums dancing in your mind, rummage through the cabinets and see if you have that shit. In my case, I pulled out the SUGAR, CINNAMON and HONEY, what what. Do not overthink it with measuring apparati! JUST DUMP THAT CRAP IN A DIABETIC HEAP.
- Roll your yeasty ballsacks into it. And now, roll the bread, too. Knead the fuck out of it like it’s the new sexual black dress of 2009. If you have to, think of the last porno you watched. Just get it done.
After you scrape the excess with your fingers and do some deep-throating, the bowl might look like this:
Oh shit, and at some point you should do that pre-heating thing. I wasn’t sure what to set the oven to, so I just cranked it all the way up. Like fast food, bakery edition. I’m unsure what # to make that step, but I have faith that you will persevere. Or have your purse severed.
6. Splat the accessorized balls onto a COOKIE SHEET. I didn’t do anything to the COOKIE SHEET because I wasn’t sure if I should use butter, oil, or parchment paper, so we went bareback for this one.
It might look like this when you’re done with that:
7. While you’re doing this culinary miming, let your child graffiti a dining room chair with Jesus band-aids. It keeps him from accidentally Plath-ing himself or adding things to your Etsy shopping cart, like a Santa’s Workshop wall-hanging.
8. Open the oven after two minutes to see how glorious and glistening your bonne bouche looks.(And yes, I called it that. Out loud. Coupled with kissing noises.)
9. Panic because the cookie sheet is missing from the oven; figure it must have been the basement-dwelling vagrant who thieved it when you were wrenching the knife from your child; realize you never put the cookie sheet in to begin with.
10. Put the cookie sheet in the oven.
11. Take it back out three minutes later because you have no patience.
12. If your teeth involuntarily twinge and ache just from the proximity, and it looks like the vagina of Jabba the Hut’s wife, they are baked.
13. Try to dislodge the confections from the cookie sheet; note that McGyver might want to add hot-ass honey into his superglue repertoire.
14. Do not be surprised when all of your hard work and ingenuity is summed up honestly by a three-year-old:
“This is not a cookie. This is toast. I can’t like that, dorkbitch.”
Apparently, Jesus I’m not. Though probably it would be better if I used different bread next time. And marshmallows. Why didn’t I add marshmallows.