Making it, not breaking it - oatmeal raisin chocolate chip success

I’m tired. In my advanced age, pulling an all-nighter is just not a good idea anymore. I couldn’t help it. I was too excited about having  a 4 day weekend  and didn’t want to waste any time in getting the party started. I had everything I needed to ensure a most excellent evening:  a Nate who wasn’t worried about work,  some cherries,  an orange soda, the last few remnants of the monster  granola bar,  and Netflix.

We started off with the heavy,  Academy Award  quality film "The Reef", starring 4 people and a shark.  If you are not afraid of sharks, watch this movie.  You will be afraid of this one. He is the ultimate hater shark, the shark that will not give up. He hates people - these 4 in particular  - why? I don’t know. Maybe it was their accent.

I’m not one for sharks, by the way. When I was a kid, I wanted to pet one. This is not my dream anymore. You cannot engage in dialogue or playful splendor with a shark. And I don’t believe that sharks do not like human flesh, that they take one bite out of you and decide that you don’t taste good enough to finish. Who made that up?  Who knows with 100% certainty what a shark's gastronomical preferences are?  This is baloney to me.

Nate left halfway through the next BAFTA caliber film, “The Resident”, starring Hilary Swank and Denny from “Grey’s Anatomy”.  Two words: nail gun. This is a weapon of mass destruction,  but only when aimed at someone’s head.

At the conclusion of this work of art,  I settled in for something a little less brainy, something I could just lose myself in. Ah yes, the world of competitive gymnastics – “Make It Or Break It”, which is ridiculous.  Ridiculously good, that is. The intrigue, the drama, the mean girls, the abstinence theme DJ Tanner keeps ramming down our throats (Candace Cameron will always be DJ Tanner to me)…entertainment at its finest. Who needed sleep when I was only 10 episodes away from finishing season 2?

Alas, sleep came. 

Interestingly enough,  this brain fog did not affect my baking this morning. What I turned out look like actual cookies – oatmeal raisin chocolate chip cookies.  I have no idea what I did, but I’m totally ok with these. And now...back to "Make It Or Break It"!

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!

Even a cookie can't save me now

Into the mixer goes the butter, cold butter. Then sugar, like sand, two colors - white and superfine, like the kind you find in an hourglass;  brown and hardpacked, like the kind that's been kissed by the ocean. Toss in a few eggs, a dash of real vanilla- never imitation - never; Off to the side, the flour has been patiently waiting its turn after a quick round of introductions with the baking soda and a pinch of salt. Ready for the magic to begin? Combine the two worlds, wet and dry, and stir in nuts that have been lightly toasted in cinnamon; add chips - semi-sweet, milk chocolate, white - whatever makes your day. Inhale. Taste. Spoon out. Bake at 375. Watch - or occupy yourself with something else for the next 8 minutes.

In 8 minutes I can change out the laundry and throw in a new load. I can walk a few laps around my complex and check my mailbox (again) for the iPad cover my BFF made by hand and said she sent over a week ago for my birthday. I can pick up a book, then get distracted by the smells from my kitchen. Or, I can do research. I can google all the different types of  lymphomas and have a schizo conversation with God blasting him for deciding it was my dad's turn to take a spin on the cancer-go-round, and thanking him because out of all the cancers to get, it's the "best" kind since it's the most treatable. In 8 minutes I can beat myself up pretty good for not going into the field of medicine. Surely I would have come up with a cure by now - I mean, it's my dad...and I'd do anything for my dad.  I'd try, I'd really, really try to fix him.

In 8 minutes, the timer will go off and even these won't save me now: 

Thanks again, Bebes for taking the picture(s)...

UPDATE: In a coversation with my dad that took less than 8 minutes, I found out that there are no significant changes to his condition (this is good). Cancer is still there, but not wreaking havoc in his system. These are slow growing tumors and the doctor is taking a "let's just monitor them for now" approach, which sounds ridiculous, but is the lesser of two evils (more chemo would do more harm at this point). His next CT scan is in a few months and we'll hop on the cancer-go-round yet again at that time. For now, I think one of these is in order: