You know you've gotten to know your new(er) roommate when you are well aware that the new package of cookie dough in the fridge will never see the inside of the oven. Growing up, I loved sticking my finger in the bowl for the cookie dough. I thought it was so much better than the cookies. Sure, you had to put up with a smack from the spoon trying to get your finger in, but hey, it was worth it. When my younger sister was old enough to make cookies, I thought she would be more understanding, more on my side, you know? Apparently not I realized after a couple of smacks landed on my hand from her. The betrayal was deep. So when I finally got a place of my own, I instituted the "cookie dough tax". If cookie dough is made anywhere on the premises, I get a small portion from the bowl, preferably at least one of the beaters. Katie happily obliged. It was always a huge compliment to Katie when I told her I liked the resulting cookie better than the dough. My roommate now will probably never make cookies. She makes the dough and stops right there. Actually, she doesn't even make it, she buys it. I like commercial cookie dough well enough, but homemade is still my favorite. I will make cookies on occasion now just for the dough. Any baking is an afterthought. Though I have enjoyed baking the cookies too, did that the other day in fact. The dough wasn't as good, however, I'll have to work on that. The big exception to my homemade preference was when my mom bought a whole huge box of Mrs. Fields macadamian nut and white chocolate pre-shaped cookie dough. The perfect size for me to reach into the freezer in the garage and grab one, day after day. I wonder if she ever realized how much of that I ate? Yum... I love being an adult.
365-09 #139Labels: 365-09 Challenge