Lazy W Marie

Carpeing all the diems in semi-rural Oklahoma...xoxo

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fast & flourless peanutbutter cookies

October 3, 2014

The first time I made these cookies, my first daughter had just been born. As I type this she is a beautiful, forward-moving nineteen year old young woman, and I couldn’t even guess how many batches of this recipe I have baked between then and now.

 

pb cookies bowl unmixed

 

When she was a baby, my Grandpa used to call me all the time, sometimes every day, to see how I was managing and could he tell me how to do something? (I wasn’t much older then than she is now. Yikes!) Yes, of course, I always wanted to hear from him! Grandpa Stubbs is one of the most knowledgeable people in my life, and he has always been funny and sweet and eager to share everything with us. Especially cooking and gardening secrets. He was also a traveling and telephone salesman throughout his career, so he knows how to get your attention. Well, one day he called excitedly to tell me all about the best peanut butter cookies in the world. Either he had just discovered this magic or he had just remembered it to share; it’s hard to say.

“Honey, I know you’ve eaten peanut butter cookies before. I am sure they’re good. But you have never and I mean never had cookies like this. Now I want to tell you how to make them, but it’s complicated, ok? And you might need to write down the recipe, are you ready? Okay. There are lots of ingredients. Don’t forget! They are all very important. Ready?”

“Almost ready Grandpa!” I vividly recall holding my daughter as she nursed, unwinding the long corkscrew phone cord, and finding an envelope to write on. “Okay go.” Even then I loved collecting food and cooking ideas.

“Okay you need some peanut butter. You need some sugar. And you need an egg. Do you have those things?” Looking back, these spontaneous recipe phone calls might have been his and Grandma’s way of monitoring how well I was eating. I catch myself texting such questions to my daughter now. Wait, wasn’t she a tiny nursing baby just a few minutes ago?

“Yep, I have all of that Grandpa, are you sure that’s all I need?” This scored me a deep belly laugh from him, because of course I was obnoxious enough to audit his recipe.

“Yes, honey that’s all you need. One of each. One cup of sugar, one cup of peanut butter, and one egg. That’s it!” Then he laughed again, generously, like he had told me the best joke ever. We laughed together. I love him so much.

These were his gardening boots which he gave to me when we bought this farm. I wear them all the time even though they are way too big. Shoes to fill, and all. xoxo
These were his gardening boots which he gave to me when we bought this farm. I wear them all the time even though they are way too big. Shoes to fill, and all. xoxo

 

Well suffice it to say that I made Grandpa’s recipe that day and fell in love with its heftiness and easy prep. My girls both ate them almost weekly throughout their childhood. And it is probably Handsome’s favorite cookie, too, among many beloved recipes. It’s so reliable, so fast and easy, and so filling!

Here is how it goes:

flourless peanut butter cookie recipe

See how basic the ingredients are? It’s rare that you wouldn’t have them on hand, right? I know.

Just mix up the first four items until you have a smoothish, glossy, well glued-together dough. I have developed an aversion to electric mixers lately and just use a wooden spoon. You do what you fancy. Once it’s a dough, just scoop out a ping-pong ball sized hunk at a time (maybe less) and roll it around in your hands until it is a pretty symmetrical sphere. Then roll that in a little shallow tray of sugar and arrange on a cookie sheet.

I have been using parchment paper liner these days, but it’s not absolutely necessary as long as you watch the baking time closely to prevent the sugar from burning. Also, since this recipe does not contain any soda, the cookies hold their shape. So you can really cram them on the baking sheet and get a lot cooked at once!

When your dough is all sphered-up and arranged neatly on your baking sheets, use a plain fork dipped in sugar to criss-cross the traditional waffle pattern on each cookie. Bake for 10 minutes at 350 degrees Fahrenheit. These cookies don’t really change appearance that much, aside from losing their glossiness. If they turn dark brown, they are ruined.  FYI.

 

pb cookies with title sticker

And that is it! Cool for a bit on a wire rack. They are excellent with ice-cold milk. Great with an apple for a quick, energizing lunch. Packs really well for road trips or freezer keeping (as if).

Now tell me something your grandpa has taught you! Or tell me your favorite cookie recipe! Or what have you been doing regularly ever since your babies were babies? I would love to hear.

Thanks for stopping in, friends. Have the very best weekend.

What children need most are the essentials that grandparents provide in abundance.
They give unconditional love, kindness, patience, humor, comfort, lessons in life.
And, most importantly, cookies.
~Rudy Giuliani
XOXOXOXO

 

 

4 Comments
Filed Under: memories, recipes

thanks ebola scare

October 1, 2014

Monday was weird in mildly stressful ways, but we made it through. Late that night we shared some savory, creamy rice plus garlicky chicken thighs with the skin still on and even found each other laughing by sunset. Capped it all off with some perfectly good romance. Win.

monarch 1

Yesterday was flat out magical, from an early morning with Handsome, daytime field trip with the master-gardener group, and sweet evenings texts with my beautiful oldest daughter. I even had the energy to write a menu and grab all of our groceries for the next two weeks then get my inconsistent self in the gym. (By the time I got home it was too dark to run.) Handsome was gone on an overnight business trip, so the farm was quiet, perfect for draining away weirdness residue and siphoning extra energy. Tuesday’s magic stayed with me all last night and into today.

Today I had nowhere to go and no strict schedule to keep. So naturally my eyes popped open thirty minutes early. After coffee, chores, housework, and some lazy autumn decorating, I went outside for a four-mile run and got that old familiar craving for twice as much. Or three or four times, maybe. Everyone around me is training for a marathon or at least a half, and I regret not making a fall race a priority. I miss running being part of my weekly routine, and October first seems like a great time to hit refresh. Wish me luck.

When I’m not running and listening to all things Eminem or Shakira, I am listening to a condensed chapter of Sting music, and it’s so great. My favorite song right now is Desert Rose. Here is the best song lyric you will ever sing to yourself while trying to maintain hope and forward momentum:

Our dreams are tied to a horse that will never die.

The whole song is beautiful, really.

monarch 2

Then after some more stuff I needed to do today, the magic began to fade.

By necessity I performed two mundane, out of the ordinary, and fairly gross tasks: I unscrewed the metal guard and cleaned out the shower drain in our master bathroom, which had recently become… let’s just say… insulated with my long hair. Then I bleach-scrubbed the whole operation until my eyes were oozing something like watery milk. Then I dealt with a possum in the chicken coop who was eating barbarian-style our prettiest butterscotch-colored hen. In broad daylight! And by “dealt with” I mean I closed the beast up in the concrete house, shooed away the rest of the flock, and started trying to reach my husband, who was at that moment still in Dallas, Texas.

I feel like impressing on you the crucial detail that I performed both of these unpleasant farm duties while in full date-night make up (yes, folks, even eye shadow) and with my hair freshly washed, blown out, and curled and teased like nobody’s business. I was even wearing a clean, pretty sundress, because October or not, Oklahoma is in the 90’s again.

Chances are good that I lose some “hobby farmer” creds by not dealing with the predator more directly. (I may or may not have posted a rabies-related plea for help on Facebook before finding my own gun.) But on the other hand I did locate the appropriate screwdriver for the shower job then replaced it to the correct toolbox immediately. So there’s that. And let’s not forget date-night makeup on a Wednesday afternoon, okay? It counts. With our schedule lately, it counts for a lot.

Between book club titles, I am reading Dorothy Must Die which is difficult for me to groove. More up my alley is A Million Little Ways by Emily Freeman. Have you nibbled it yet? My gosh. I mean, you guys, please read this book. It’s short, beautifully written (along the flavor of Ann Voskamp but somehow more youthful sounding), and inspirational from both the artistic stance and the spiritual. If you have any ache in our soul or itch in your body to be creative or discover your purpose in life, give this slim volume some of your valuable time. You won’t regret it.

One of her early chapters offers this:

As we continue to uncover the shape of our unique design, we need not feel the pressure to figure out what to do with it.

Believe in myself and I sink into the waves of worry, procrastination, daily tasks, and diagnoses. There is no dry ground in sight. But sink into God and he will buoy the soul on top of the water.

Which obviously reminds me of the Sting song Shape of My Heart which happens to be playing as I type this.

This afternoon, once my eyes cleared of the watery, milky, bleach-related secretion, I walked out to the vegetable garden to empty some kitchen scraps into the compost. Excited to see how much my small square of kale had grown in two days, I was in for more unpleasantness. Someone, probably Lone Wolf the rooster, had eaten it! It was all chewed down to dark green nubs. Deep breath.

So… a possum eats a hen. And a rooster eats my kale. And I am wearing really good makeup, but it’s all smeary from bleach fumes. I cannot decide if this is some strange brand of reverse karma or just your run-of-the-mill weekday chaos.

What phase is the moon in right now?

Thank goodness for monarchs and soul-nourishing books. And Sting.

I blame the Ebola outbreak for most of this.

The End.

3 Comments
Filed Under: daily life

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Hi! I'm Marie. Welcome to the Lazy W. xoxo

Hi! I’m Marie. This is the Lazy W.

A hobby farming, book reading, coffee drinking, romance having, miles running girl in Oklahoma. Soaking up the particular beauty of every day. Blogging on the side. Welcome to the Lazy W!

I Believe Strongly in the Power of Gratitude & Joy Seeking

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