Mom’s oatmeal cookies
When I was young, my mom did things differently from the other mothers. When the other kids were eating sugary cereals, I had to eat Uncle Sam. When the other kids were drinking milk shakes, I had to drink raspberry kefir. And when the other kids had smooth, flat store-bought cookies in their lunch boxes, I had chunky, lumpy homemade oatmeal cookies that looked like golf balls.
Appearances aside, I loved these oatmeal cookies as they were spiced with brown sugar and dotted with chocolate chips. But they looked strange, definitely not like the other kid’s cookies or something you’d find at a bakery. And when you’re in elementary school, appearances mean everything.
In the fifth grade, we had assigned seats at our lunchroom table. I was seated next to a boy named Vance. I knew him from our country club as we had taken tennis lessons together that past summer, but over the course of the school year we became better friends and he asked me to “go with him.” I thought he liked me because I was cute and lively (my nickname was Spaghetti Legs) but in time, I realized the truth.
Once I became Vance’s girlfriend, he told me that what was his was mine and vice versa. So I got to eat his Oreos and he got to eat my mom’s cookies. I thought that I was getting the better end of the deal and he was just being kind.
But one day I didn’t want to eat Oreos—I wanted my mom’s oatmeal cookies. Vance threw a fit. “You don’t want to trade? Your mom’s cookies are the best cookies I’ve ever had. I wish I had a mom who made cookies as good as these! And you don’t even appreciate them!” he said.
I was shocked at his outburst. Someone would choose lumpy, chunky cookies over perfect store-bought cookies? And that’s when I knew—my mom’s cookies were indeed superior.
I held my ground and told him I’d be happy to trade my peanut butter and banana sandwich on homemade bread for his baloney sandwich on Mrs. Baird’s, but it was no deal. He wanted those oatmeal cookies.
We broke up soon after—it was fifth grade after all—but remained good friends throughout our grade-school years. And sometimes, when I was feeling generous, I’d share with him my mom’s oatmeal cookies—no reciprocation necessary.
Mom’s oatmeal cookies
Ingredients
- 3/4 cup unsalted butter, room temperature
- 3/4 cup brown sugar
- 1 large egg, room temperature
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 3 cups rolled oats
- 1 cup whole-wheat flour
- 1 teaspoon kosher salt
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 2 cups chocolate chips
Instructions
- Preheat oven to 350° F.
- Cream together the butter, sugar and egg. Stir in the vanilla, rolleed oats, flour, salt, baking soad, and chocolate chips, and mix well.
- Working in batches, place 1 teaspoon-sized balls of dough on a greased or parchment-paper lined cookie sheet and bake at 12-15 minutes or until set. Cool before serving.
Our Mother's were cut from the same cloth. My mom made toll house cookies with half whole wheat flour, and I didn't even have any sugar until I was 3 years old. I used to envy my friends' store bought cookies, but now appreciate that my mom cared so much about my health! She also did oatmeal, always used real butter and brown sugar. But she was more into oatmeal raisin 😉
I always think of you when I make refritos. I had them with eggs, onions, and peppers this morning. Being a transplant from Texas people rarely understand my breakfast choices 🙂
Oh girl you've done it again. I could have written that first paragraph above my grandma's cookies. And as for the recipe except that we had raisins instead of chips it's got to be the same recipe! Did we grow up together??? LOL
I think your Mom's food predilections might be partially responsible for your culinary aptitude today, dont you think ?
Good story though. Thanks.
And yes by all means.I'll vote for you. Anytime.
Thank you for the great recipe and sweet love story. I will make these cookies and think of you and Vance.
That Vance, he was a smooth dude! He knew good things when he saw them…although I'm sure you WERE charming and adorable to boot.
Love the story.