This tastes like butt

So, tonight I made cookies.  We had a half-empty bag of chocolate chips, and there was a cookie recipe on the back, and so making cookies seemed like the thing to do.

In hindsight, it’s probably a good thing that the back of the chip bag didn’t have instructions for knife-juggling or self-immolation.

The instructions were relatively simple, and generally seemed idiot-proof.  We made only one small change, in substituting M&M’s for chocolate chips (because somehow most of the chocolate chips were eaten before ever making it to a cookie).  We mixed the batter, spooned everything out, blushed and mumbled our way through an unexpectedly erotic moment involving licking cookie dough off eggbeaters and hands, and then put the cookies in the oven.  Ten minutes later, we had cookies.

“This tastes like butt.”

So, okay, they were maybe not the most amazing cookies ever.  A combination of culinary and sexual experience, however, makes me quite confident that they did not taste particularly like butt.  I suspect they tasted the way they were supposed to taste, and that it just wasn’t a very exciting recipe to start with.  I suppose it’s also possible that the cookies were intended to taste both like cookies, and like butt:

“How’s the new recipe for the back of the chocolate-chip bag coming along?”
“Almost done.  Just needs to taste a little more like butt.”

Regardless, I think we got the recipe near about right.  So, if the resulting chocolate-chip cookies were not of award-winning quality, I don’t think we were to blame.  And, I still maintain that they didn’t taste bad at all — just not amazing, either.  For fifteen minutes of effort, I actually think they were pretty respectable.  I’m confident that they would have shut up a cookie-grubbing little kid, for example.

The lesson here, if there is one (and I like to think  there is), is that you shouldn’t set your expectations too high for the results of a few minutes of minimal effort and casual ingredient-mixing.  We made perfectly competent cookies for 15 minutes of effort.  We got out what we put in.  It’s the American dream.  It’s not our fault that we were dreaming of butt.

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