Praise me like you should

Posted: September 22nd, 2009 | Author: adi | Filed under: Uncategorized | 1 Comment »
Can't get enough

Eat your heart out

I can be….slightly jealous. Territorial, maybe. Nothing major–I don’t make public scenes and throw things and embarrass myself. But when I feel threatened, I tend to make it known. How does this relate to cooking, you ask? The answer is, of course, cookies.

I love baking cookies. I consider myself quite capable in the cookie arena, from my classic chocolate chip cookies to my iced orange cookies. I make a killer snickerdoodle and I can’t even be falsely modest about how awesome my chewy sugar cookies are. So when people encourage me to bake for them less, citing reasons like their quickly-expanding waistlines, I get a little bummed. Sure, it can be a compliment–my baked goods are so irresistable the recipients overindulge regardless of diet. But it’s also a let-down. I LOVE baking. Nothing makes me happier than feeding someone and hearing how much they enjoyed being fed. I thrive on praise.

My boyfriend, Matt, is pretty good about the praise. He could certainly be a bit more enthusiastic, but he does tend to say, “That’s good,” every time I make him something. He’s not as effusive as my bosses, who tend to exclaim every time they come home to something new that I am both wonderful and soso terrible for tempting them. He’s certainly a step up from my brother, though, who has even claimed the flan I baked him was “cakey.”

This weekend, however, I almost killed him.

We went to a farmer’s market, and sampled the bounty. Everything from lentil soup to basil gelato,¬†passionfruit chocolate to fresh mozzarella–all the things I enjoy at the market because I either cannot or will not make them myself. When we came to a cookie table neatly displaying organic cookies and cookie mixes (”just add oil and water”), I kept going. What’s the point in paying six dollars for a couple cookies, or, even worse, a bag of flour, sugar, and baking powder? For me, none. However, I was forced to watch, horrified, as Matt not only sampled a cookie, but proceeded to BUY some.

That’s right. He told me to stop baking for him so much, and then he bought someone else’s cookies. I was livid. Not only were the cookies overpriced, but they were simply oatmeal raisin. Had I not made him oatmeal raisin cookies? Had I not proved to be a competent oatmeal raisin baker? It was an insult. A slap in the face. He was, dare I say, cheating on me.

That night, his cookie lust still unsatisfied (take THAT farmer’s market cookies), we made a late-night run to the grocery store and half an hour of zesting, juicing, rolling, and baking later, he was testing out a new oat/flour ratio on my orange oatmeal cookies with dried cranberries and enjoying the leftover fresh-squeezed orange juice from the recipe.

And, based on the yummy noises and sheer quantity consumed, I can officially tally this as:

Adi: 1 Farmer’s market cookies: 0


One Comment on “Praise me like you should”

  1. 1 leah said at 10:01 pm on September 22nd, 2009:

    SO cute! what a fun read. you go with those orange oatmeal cookies of love!


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