I’ve been feeling for a while that it’s about time I write an article with more substance than substances (ha, substances. Good one, Delia. You’ve already earned yourself a reward pizza). My previous pieces for The Pointless have so far followed a distinct theme: that theme being the classic, girl meets binge, girl loses mind, girl gets parole.
Now, I may be able to write those twisted bits in bizarre length and disturbing detail, but the fact is nothing like what happens to 20 something girls whose worst prison experience has been during a game of Monopoly (you’re right, that’s NOT funny. My grandmother called the cops when I yelled at her on family board game night). And let’s face it, jokes like that are only amusing for so long. I figure if drinking humor is the lowest kind of college funny, eating is probably next on the wrung, since it takes only slightly more effort. So this week, I’m going to switch gears and give you a realistic tutorial for cooking in a dorm setting.
This week, we’re going to be making Double Chocolate Chip Cookies.
You will need:
-½ cup butter
-½ cup of sugar? Um, forget that. You will need 3 cups of sugar. Yeah, that oughta be enough. Maybe 4 just in case.
-I’m going to call 1/2 a cup of brown sugar optional, since I ran out when I rolled the butter in it and ate it. Oh, I guess butter’s optional now too.
– 1 large egg. I’m assuming by this they mean the egg of some large fowl, like an ostrich or something, because I’ve never seen a chicken egg that was bigger than any other. That’s bull. You can find an ostrich egg at your local internet, so plan in advance.
– ½ cup Chocolate chips. Oh shoot! I knew I forgot to buy something! Now the cookies won’t be brown. What else is brown? Brown…mustard? Ice cream? Just find something brown in your kitchen and use it. Who’s going to complain about how they taste? You’re giving away free cookies!
-And 1 cup of I can’t read the rest of the recipe, something’s spilled on it. I’m sure it’s fine, you’ve got all the good stuff anyway.
How to Bake Cookies
1. Assemble your ingredients in the common room kitchen, as well as your mixing bowl, measuring cups both dry and liquid, measuring spoons and cookie sheet.
2. Realize that you don’t have a mixing bowl, measuring cups both dry and liquid, measuring spoons and cookie sheet. Improvise using items from your room, such as a tin foil bowl or a textbook baking sheet. (Helpful Hint: Using sneakers for measuring cups adds extra flavor!)
3. Throw all your ingredients into the bowl. It’s all getting mixed up in the end, so why waste an extra ten minutes doing it one at a time? Man you’re smart. How come chefs never thought of that?
4. Mix your ingredients up, and place your bowl in the communal fridge to chill for an hour. Be sure to label your mix very carefully, so that people will be certain that they don’t know you personally when they steal it.
5. Return in an hour to find your batter gone. Whip yourself up into a rage until you begin to froth. Reluctantly repeat steps 1-3, just so that your time isn’t completely wasted.
6. Mix the new batter, this time putting it in your dorm room fridge. Spend the next hour watching Teen Wolf with the satisfaction of knowing your mix is safe.
7. The next step is the hardest. Remove the batter from the mini fridge, and trip on a poorly placed reward pizza box, sending the bowl flying. You should now have a nice, creamy coating covering your roommate’s precious Fabergé pony that her grandmother smuggled out of the Old Country during the War. You may substitute this for any priceless heirloom that someone should not have brought to college.
8. Desperately attempt to scoop the brown mess off of your roommate’s stuff while still trying to save all the batter you can. When finished with this step, the beloved family treasure should be covered in a number of conspicuous brown stains, which you will assure yourself they will never notice, and blame on the atrocious lighting in this room if they do.
9. You’re finally ready to bake! Goop your mix onto the cookie sheet and place it in the oven. At this point you really don’t care, so any time and temperature will do. Sit and wait for your cookies to be done. Notice suddenly that some guy is just eating labeled food out of the common room fridge. He will immediately strike you as a guy who would eat a bowl of raw cookie dough out of a fridge. He has that look.
10. Angrily confront him for 10-12 minutes. Spice up your argument with passive aggressive statements and inflammatory accusations to make the experience doubly unpleasant. While this is going on, ignore your cookie-like substance in the oven until you smell smoke.
11. Sit on the sidewalk until the fire department arrives. When the firefighters prepare to enter the building, ask one of them if they could please try to save your cookies. If you have done everything correctly, the annoyed firefighter will soon present you with the charred, smoldering remains of your baking and remark, “Is this what started the chemical fire, sir or ma’am?” Congratulations, you have indeed baked something! Bon appetit!
For best results, prepare late at night, when everyone else is trying to sleep.
Serves: You. With a giant lawsuit. (Priceless, Delia. Now let’s get you some reward donuts.)