The oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookie that never was...or, the monster granola bar that could feed a very small village

This is what happens when one erroneously considers themselves to be a baking savant, a sort of cookie Rainman, if you will. Spitting in the face of early onset Alzheimer’s (see previous post), I set out to make oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies without a recipe.

People – baking is a science. There’s not a lot of room for mistakes in terms of how many cups of flour and eggs a recipe calls for, or a teaspoon versus a tablespoon of baking soda or baking powder. That kind of stuff matters. A lot. In all honesty, they're not too bad. They’re just a little flat and stuck together. So let’s just say these aren’t cookies. Let’s call it a big oatmeal raisin chocolate chip granola bar! A monster granola bar that can feed approximately 15 people.

This crazy exercise reminded me of the time I developed an unhealthy obsession with baking cheesecake. The summer before my grandma had her stroke - I think I was about 8 at the time – she became my partner in cheesecake crime. And man, did we commit a lot of crimes against the baking world. We didn’t have a cookbook – geez, we didn’t even have the right tools like a mixer or measuring spoons. What we did have was the recipe off the back of a cream cheese package and some blind ass faith. To be fair, desserts weren’t a common thing in my Asian household. Fruits were/are our dessert, because nothing motivates one more to finish their food than a nice big banana and some orange slices.

But this was America and I wanted cheesecake. Grandma and I turned out disaster after disaster. Graham cracker crumbs as a crust? Never grounded fine enough. Cream cheese? Never beaten until smooth. I don’t know how exactly, but one version came out gelatinous. And what the hell was a springform pan? I didn’t even know what that was until college. These things did not jive with my 8-year old brain and my grandma’s old world cooking sense.

One weekend we got it right. It was a little thin (we used a 9x13 pan) and tinted a strange violet color (canned blueberries), but it was the right consistency and tasted like real cheesecake! Victory was ours. It's one of my most favorite memories ever. We didn’t have another baking summer like that again after she got sick.

As an adult in today's modern society that includes such things as the Internet and an iPad to take into the kitchen with me - and as someone in possession of the right baking equipment, I realize I don’t have to subject myself to this kind of experimentation anymore. I can do other things to keep my brain healthy and active…like play more chess or learn to read and write Chinese. But this was fun, and it reminded me not only of grandma, but of a time in my life when I didn’t give up until I got the results I wanted. Where did that me go? Time to find her.

So let’s see where this takes me…more blind ass faith baking to come!