Peanut Butter Cookie Time

For the last two weeks, my brother has tried in vain to make peanut butter cookies. He tried my recipe, which is a recipe that resulted in a friend eating 40 cookies in one sitting without getting sick of them and the other 40 the following day. Yeah, they were good. Unfortunately, when my brother made them, he used evaporated milk instead of sweetened, condensed milk, and it resulted in a product that was more biscuit than cookie, with barely a hint of peanut butter taste. To the trash they went! He then dug up a cookie recipe online that called for both baking powder and baking soda, and either by operator error or chemical misconfiguration, the cookies were good during the first three chomps in your mouth, but then the baking powder/baking soda taste hit your tongue and it was like eating medicine. To the trash they went as well! And thus, a deep longing for decent baked peanut butter cookies was born.

Tonight I went grocery shopping and decided to splurge and buy him a package of mixed cookie dough you just pop in the oven and bake: peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips. If he survived his heart exploding with glee, he might just get to eat one.

When I got home, he helped me put away the groceries and I showed him the cookies, which made him smile and he thanked me. I expected a slightly more enthusiastic reaction given his obsession, but perhaps he misunderstood that they were peanut butter.

Within ten minutes he was back downstairs, wearing that same grin again.

Bro: I think I’m going to make the cookies. I can’t wait any longer.

Me: I’m surprised you held out this long.

Bro: Maybe I’ll just hold them for a little while. Cuddle.

Me: Before or after you cook them?

Bro: Both.

Me: After you eat them, you’ll have to prevent yourself from going to the bathroom, to keep them inside you.

Bro: I’ll tape my butt cheeks shut.

Up until then, he didn’t know they were peanut butter cookies with peanut butter chips, but when he saw this, he started jumping up and down like a kid, repeating over and over, “Peanut butter chiiiiiiiiiiiiiips!” Should I mention he is going to be 31 years old next month?

He yelled at the oven for a little while, waiting for it to preheat. Clearly he was having a peanut butter meltdown.

Bro: I don’t even want to cook them. I just want to eat them now.

Me: Well, the batter is pretty good. Go ahead and eat one raw.

Bro: No, I want them baked, but I want them baked NOW.

Me: Oh, well…hmm.

Bro: "SEVENTEEN TO NINETEEN MINUTES?!"

Me: You’re going to have to find something to do for seventeen to nineteen minutes so you’re not pacing in front of the oven, yelling at it to bake faster.

Bro: It redefines time. There’s time, like normal time, and then there’s peanut butter cookie time, which is way slower!

Me: People will start referring to peanut butter cookie time now. "I was in this accident and it was like everything was happening in peanut butter cookie time!"

When the cookies were finally done, I gave him the cookie rack so that they’d cool quicker. I had to help. He was just staring at them in the pans. I have seen that look before. Every single time I eat near the dog. He was staring at his cookies like the dog does for any food, and he was probably drooling, too.

After about three minutes he declared them cool, put a handful on a plate for himself, and then found a small container for the remaining few.

Me: Oh, who are we kidding? You don’t need a container. Just put them all on your plate and take them to your room. I bet they’re all gone before they’re even cold.

He laughed, but he did leave a few in the container. I doubt they’ll be there in the morning.

They do look good, though.
(Click to embiggen them, if you dare!)

That’s right. Now you want some. Now you know how he felt.

Think about how long it will be before you can get out and get the peanut butter cookie dough and cook them for yourself.

Now think about that in peanut butter cookie time.

Good luck with that.