The NYT’s Chocolate Chip Cookies

NYT Chocolate Chip Cookies

I am ten minutes late to every party, trend, fad, etc.

So of course I would only cotton on to this recipe 3.5 years after the New York Times published a cookie recipe that took the food blogger world by storm. Forget your grandmother’s tried and true Betty Crocker cookbook. These cookies were frequently touted to be the “best chocolate chip cookies you will ever make.”

Well, natural skeptic that I am, this was something I’d have to see for myself.
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Homemade Marshmallows

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I am becoming plumper.

Pleasantly plump, if we are being kind, but if we are being honest, it’s not a good kind of plump. It’s not the pretty plumpness-that-is-really-more-like-normal-sized-because-English-people-are-all-tiny-tiny-people-plumpness of Nigella Lawson.

And these last two weeks haven’t helped.

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Bittersweet Chocolate and Roasted Pear Tarts

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Recipe from Not Without Salt.

These don’t look nearly as professional nor as well done as Alison’s tarts, but for my first attempt (and for several mistakes made in haste along the way), not bad. My tart molds must have been larger than what was used in the recipe, because I found myself having to made more dough for the shortbread crust.

I used edible gold dust, which resulted in much suspicion.

“Is this real gold?”

“No. I just thought I’d shellac them to be pretty.”

Nevertheless, these went down a smashing success, even if the sheer size of the tart seemed to intimidate all but the tallest and most food-keen.

Morning Commute

It’s 8:30 and the subway is down. Hundreds of anxious commuters stand outside the station, unsure of how to find alternate transportation that isn’t a bike or car. Each shuttle bus that bothers to stop is filled beyond capacity and not many taxis mill about this neighborhood. We pay for our suburban, green-loving lifestyle with a distinct lack of the city’s major conveniences.

I’m about to consider going home and telling my manager I’ll be working from home when a minivan cruises the street, its driver, a woman of indeterminate age with silver hair and bright eyes set in an open, expressive face, does not scrutinize us for our wares so much as asks if anyone trusts her enough to let her drive them downtown.

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