Let me say right up front that I am in the midst of an intense crankfest. I blame this unbearable, unbelievable, unacceptable weather, which even now, has me sweating profusely while sitting directly in front of the A/C. Well, that, and some other things, namely a lack of job, lack of money, and lack of general purpose. Oh, and this play that really needs rewriting but seems intent on torturing me instead. Suffice it to say, world, watch out. This girl is PISSED.
I answered a call from a friend the other day, with "Hiiiiiieeeee! How was your birrrrrthday!" He proceeded to, in strained tones, attempt enthusiasm at telling me how he'd spent the day. He got about 15 seconds in before he interrupted himself to say, "You know, I'm actually in a horrible, horrible mood right now, so I'm sure it was a lovely birthday but I just can't give the world the satisfaction of actually saying that, because I'm too determined right now that everything just SUCKS." I wished him good luck in finding a puppy to kick, and got off the phone.
And now here I am. Sitting in my hot apartment, feeling as though the world is just one terrible injustice and humiliating insult after another, and absolutely determined to continue to feel this way.
But I'm having this dilemma. Because I've been meaning to tell you about these cookies.
But if I told you about these cookies, I'd have to acknowledge that they were really quite intensely delicious. And that they came out of a fantastic cookie book with recipes from every year of Gourmet's existence, given to me by our lovely Auntie. And I'd have to tell you that I made them to take to a fantastic backyard barbeque at Chef Josh and Lady Kate's Brooklyn home, and that I got to hang out with great friends there, and eat possibly the best cheeseburger I've had in years (apparently we should all get our ground meat from here), and laughed and played with an adorable child, and sat in the balmy summer air and drank cold beer and then, lucky girl, went home with my gorgeous and smart and funny fiance. And I'd have to tell you these cookies were the very first recipe made using my new baby*, a cornflower blue behemoth that I gaze at with googly eyes and received as a wedding gift from my bestest friend, AMac and her amazing parents, who might possibly be the best people ever to spend a July 4th weekend with, and are hilarious and warm and wonderful and who I am forever indebted to for bringing their fantastic daughter into the world.
And all of those facts just fly directly in the face of my firm belief that everything SUCKS and anyone who thinks otherwise is just an IDIOT.
So you see my dilemma.
Here's the stupid recipe.
Mocha Cookies, from the Gourmet Cookie Book
Makes about 3 dozen
4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped
3 cups semisweet chocolate chips
1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter, cut into bits
1/2 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon double-acting baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
4 large eggs, at room temp
1.5 cups sugar
1.5 tablespoons instant espresso powder
2 teaspoons vanilla
In a metal bowl set over a saucepan of simmering water, melt the unsweetened chocolate, 1.5 cups of the chocolate chips, and the butter, stirring until the mixture is smooth, and remove the bowl from the heat. In a small bowl, stir together the flour, the baking powder, and the salt. In a bowl, beat the eggs with the sugar until the mixture is thick and pale, and beat in the espresso powder and the vanilla. Fold the chocolate mixture into the egg mixture, fold in the flour mixture, and stir in the remaining 1.5 cups of chocolate chips. Let the batter stand for 15 minutes. Drop the batter by heaping tablespoons onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper and bake the cookies in the middle of a preheated 350 degree oven for 8 to 10 minutes, or until they are puffed and shiny and cracked on top. Let the cookies cool on the baking sheets, transfer them to racks, and let them cool completely. Notes: Make sure to let the batter stand--don't skip that step. Err on the side of underbaking these. Cool for 1 minute on the bakign sheet before transferring the cookies to racks.
*Ain't she purdy?