Cooking is not my forte. My kids call my kitchen "Mama's Smokin' Restaurant." And although a real, actual fire (not one I will admit to, anyway) has ever broken out, I have on many occasions stood over the kitchen sink with a butter knife scraping the surface of blackened toast. My husband blames it on ADD (Aimlessly Dawdling Disorder), so he cooks a good deal. Just goes to show how well things work out, in the end.
Nevertheless, I sometimes, against the better judgement of others, make up my mind to whip up an amazing culinary delight. It always excites my ever optimistic children to see what I will desecrate next. Yesterday, it was the all-American chocolate chip cookie; because of course I can make a good thing better.
I decided I could elevate the chocolate chip cookie to a whole new level by giving it a southern twist - grits. In my mind, where everything is as blissful as a Christmas Carol, the fresh baked cookies steamed with the aroma of homemade oatmeal desserts, minus the befoulment by raisins. Completely sucked into my self-delusional fantasy, I stood in the grocery aisle faced with a momentous decision - exactly what type of grits should I use?
Instant or regular? Whole or cracked? White or yellow? Impulsively, I bought every kind displayed. The cashier eyeballed me with a sideways glance, but seeing the feverish focus in my face, made a wise choice not to comment.
At home, whipping up my secret recipe sure to win me the blue ribbon at the state fair, I had a new dilemma. In what form should I add the grits? Cooked or dry? Runny and hot or cold and clumped? I can't tell you exactly what I did, mostly because it was sort of a combo of all of the above and I didn't write it down.
Finally, I pulled a batch from the oven, scraped the black edges off and fed them to my four lab rats, who, oddly enough, feigned joy at receiving my gift. Standing back so as not to pressure the critics, I watched them chew. And chew. And chew. And chew.
At last, the six year old's lips parted. I waited with bated breath. She bent her head into her palm held close to her mouth. Oh no, I thought and grabbed the trashcan. But then she lifted her head, grinned, and held out her hand. "They're a little bit crunchy, Mama," she said, handing me her front tooth.
Back to the mixing bowl.
Monday, July 9, 2007
Grits Cookies
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4 comments:
I'm not sure if you desecrated the cookie really, I think of it more as a desecration of the grits. A cookie you can get anywhere, grits can be hard to come by in some more unrefined parts of the world.
PJ
Have you ever tried making the Grits Cookies again? I live near Augusta, GA and recently one of my co-workers found an old cookie tin with it's label still intact. On it was "Georgia's Gourmet Grits Cookies". Now, I've lived here all my life and I've never heard of anyone making cookies using grits. But if you wouldn't mind sharing your recipe, I'd like to have it and to pass it on to my co-worker. His in-laws are French.
AFM
Yes. I make the grits cookies on request from my children, who always want to take them to school on their birthdays. They say grits cookies beat the boring old, over-done cupcake coming and going. Unfortunately, I can't give out the recipe. But since I've already revealed the secret ingredient, as industrious person could probably figure it out.
It is useful to try everything in practice anyway and I like that here it's always possible to find something new. :)
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