Ulla and the Oatmeal Peanut Butter Chocolate Chip Rounds

There are three things my dad likes in the world of food. Three major things. Potato chips. M&Ms. And peanut butter.

Breakfast was consistently two pieces of toast with an unruly layer of peanut butter stretching to every edge of the bread. For a good part of my life, I didn’t know you could make a peanut butter and jelly sandwich without putting peanut butter on both sides of the bread. Which I think is actually logical because then the jelly doesn’t get the bread soggy. Don’t shake your head. It’s logical.

One of the most impactful memories of my childhood is the day he found out he needed to cut back on his peanut butter intake to help control his cholesterol. It was a very sad day. Very, very sad day. My dad mourned the loss. But he didn’t give up his toast. He still spread that peanut butter from side to side—only now he scraped it super thin. Enough to get a fix. Which is how I learned to eat peanut butter as a obsessive compulsive calorie counter. Sigh.

And so maybe that’s why I have an unnatural craving for heaping gobs of peanut butter to be put in my mouth. It’s in my genes. I can’t help it. I need it. And because of this craving, Ulla and I are prepared to show you how to make the most wonderful cookie in the world. Oatmeal. Chocolate chips. And best of all, peanut butter.

You can use any type of peanut butter you’d like. But allow me to make a suggestion. And don’t laugh. Don’t snub your nose. I have a love affair with generic Safeway-brand peanut butter. And believe me, I’ve tried them all. Safeway is perfect not only because I’m cheap (read: practical), but because Safeway is saltier than other brands. I like a little kick to my peanut butter. Although I am also the one who carries salt around in my purse. Let’s move on.

The damage (As determined by Better Homes and Gardens. Who else?):

3/4 cup butter (mmm, butter)
1/2 cup peanut butter (mmm, peanut butter)
1 cup granulated sugar
1/2 cup packed brown sugar
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups rolled oats
1 cup(ish) chocolate chips

I’m not sure there’s much in life that pleases me more than a heaping gob of peanut butter. And that could very well be the reason why these cookies are my most favorite ever. It all starts here—with a spoonful of creamy goodness. But oh dear, peanut butter is very messy. Your spoon will be covered. You better clean it really well. And you shouldn’t let it go to waste. Go ahead. Put it in your mouth. You’ll thank me later.

Wait a minute. Peanut butter and butter butter? Really? Could we be that lucky? Why yes. Yes we are.

Mixing until it’s whippy light would be best. I could probably stop here and be perfectly happy. But I realize that’s just me—not everyone can handle a spoonful of butter on butter. And let’s face it, sugar makes everything better. Sugar. The stuff of champions. Or maybe just the stuff of strapping vikings. This is your cue to add the regular sugar, the brown sugar, the soda and the powder. Blend, blend, blend.

Eggs! Vanilla! Because what are cookies without eggs and vanilla? And be sure to add a little of the egg shell into the mix and spend 6 minutes trying to fish it back out without success. You want the full experience, trust me. The egg shells really add to the overall experience of the cookie. Um, Brandon? Sweetie? Honey? Your cookies are a little more crunchy than expected.  Ahem. Cough.

Mixy, mixy, mixy. Dump in the flour. Go ahead. Dump it all in. All I have to say here is that I really like taking pictures of falling flour. It’s like a game of chance. You never know when a clump will fall. And also, please notice the fluorescent fuchsia is no longer painted on my fingernails. I’m a little sad about that. But it started chipping. And I may have had a brief panic attack in the time it took to peel the rest off. I don’t want to talk about it.

And guess what? Time for oatmeal. Toss it in. Toss, toss, toss. And best of all? The thing that keeps me coming back? The chocolate chips. These get to go in now as well. The recipe calls for 1 cup. I put one heaping cup and then a handful or two on the side. And a couple in my mouth. I have to make sure they’re not stale or anything. I have to. It’s only right.

And that’s it. You now have the most perfect dough ever. Slightly wet. Slightly chunky. Perfectly gritty on your teeth. I like to feel the dough between my fingers. I have to make sure it’s the right consistency. And then I have to taste it. Because it’s absolutely necessary that it be right. And I taste it again.

This is about the time I asked Brandon if he wanted to lick the flat beater (Ulla’s beloved attachment).

It’s also about the time he looked at me and said, “Is a frog’s bum water tight?”

He really likes the dough.

A happy teaspoon of dough should do it. I like my cookies a bit bigger, but it doesn’t matter. It should be a couple inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. It takes about 10 minutes to get the edges lightly golden at 375 degrees. And this is where I tell you something else I learned from my Dad:

If you allow the cookies to be a little underdone when you finish baking them, you can store them in the freezer. By leaving them a little doughy, the cookie is still soft and chewy when you take them out of the freezer. This little fact has saved us many a wasted cookie in our subtropical Hawaiian weather.

Just trust me. Frozen cookies. Excellent.

Oatmeal. Peanut. Butter. Chocolate. Chip. I don’t know any other words that go together quite so well.

Fact: A frog’s bum is actually water tight.