I Never Met a Cookie I Didn't Like

As I mentioned in my last post, I did some drunken baking with my friends this weekend. I used my grandma's recipe for chocolate chip cookies. They've been my favorite since I was a little kid. But originally getting that recipe from her was like prying secrets from a Russian spy.

It's not that my grandma is particularly secretive or anything, she's just really old school. She doesn't use recipes. And since she's been baking those cookies for over fifty years, she doesn't even use measuring cups. Doesn't even have to think about it.

So this is how that conversation went:

Grandma: Then you'll want to add some brown sugar.

Me: How much?

Grandma: Well, not too much.

Me: Oh, okay. So, um, how much?

Then she'd shrug and hold out her hand as rough approximation. Like I'm supposed to write down, "Add 1 Grandma's handful of brown sugar."

It's weird to feel insanely frustrated with your own grandmother. I think that was the only time I ever felt like swearing at my grandma instead of with her.