Like Sylvia Plath, I cook when I'm anxious. I hope I come to a better end. Living alone has gotten bothersome. I bake inappropriately. Bread, scones, and cookies in the last twenty four hours. I keep bringing plates full of cookies to David's sister and foisting them upon David. Today chocolate chocolate chip cookies. Without the melting chocolate hard part. I sort of made them up, as much as you can make up a chocolate chip cookie recipe. They go like this:
1 stick of butter
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/4 c. white sugar
1 tsp vanilla
Mix these things together. Make tea. Get distracted. Call your father.
1 cup and a tablespoon of flour
1/2 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
3 tsp cocoa powder
Sift these things into the other things. Mix. Eat a lot of dough. Feel a tad ill. Drink more tea.
Add about 1/2 c. of milk chocolate chips. Mix more.
Bake at 350 for about ten minutes. Maybe less. Check. Eat. With tea. Do not put head in oven and die with your cheek resting on a dish towel. That is a bad bad end.
Do you think baking would be more fun with an Aga? I suspect it would. And the westie could sleep on a little pillow next to it.