Buffalo Chip Cookies

I have an email that I sent to Josh's parents during the first month of living here (which was 2 years ago) and have decided to share it with y'all. I read it to the kids last year in December and they were rolling with laughter. So it inspired me to read it to them every year. Now you're included...

12/30/05

Hi Mom and Dad,

I've been holding on to the recipe you developed for Buffalo Chips and waiting for the chance to bake a batch. Today was that day. I decided that the kids were going to help and we were going to make some memories and some good grinds for tomorrow night. I thought you might like a record of our first attempt. This might be a long one, so print it out and read it the next time you're on the pot -- you'll see that it's a fitting story for that.

Zack and Sarah are both anxious to help me in the kitchen. I'm struck by the joy they feel in doing it even if it's just a little bit. Just the other day, Sarah turned to me and said, "I love helping you cook pancakes, Mom! Or anything, really!" I almost resolve to involve the kids more in everyday cooking. Read on.

Sarah is the first to jump when I announce that we're going to make cookies. Zack reminds her that she needs to wash her hands. He's not done with dessert yet, so he's trying to stall for time in order to get an equal share of the helping. He scarfs down the rest of his ice cream, runs to wash his hands, and then reappears and announces in a loud voice, "I washed my hands!" I begin with melting the buttery Crisco and let them take turns putting the seconds on the microwave, opening and closing the door, and then pouring the melted yummy smelling stuff into the bowl.

Next comes the sugars. Before I can answer Zack's question to scoop, Sarah tells him that he's not going to touch the scoop, but count them as I measure them out. I can't find my one cup measure, so I'm using the 1/4 cup measure and it's more fun that way anyway. They count and watch the Kitchenaide mixer blend everything together, laughing at the way it all comes together. At this point, I realize that Seth is no where to be found. They tell me that he's in the bedroom, so I figure he's found Sarah's Game Boy and he's secretly playing it without permission.

The eggs are next, and Zack asks how to open them. A little lesson ensues where cracking the eggs on a flat surface creates the perfect line crack down the center. I say, "then you just pull the egg shell apart with your fingers. You don't push your fingers into it." Sarah says, "Yeah, like I do sometimes." Then she explains to Zack that the outside of an egg is really yucky, "because, well, it did come out of a chicken's butt."

After her mini-lesson, Sarah soon realizes what I've suspected and runs to the bedroom to retrieve the Game Boy and hide it from her little sticky-fingers brother. Seth retires to the living room to watch. I see his face and it looks like he wants to help, but he's content to watch this time around.

We begin to mix up the dry stuff: flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Sarah holds the bowl while Zack stirs it up with a whisk. I put a cup of cornflakes in a bag and hand it to Sarah to crush. When I see her squeezing it with her fingers, I show her how to put it on the table and crush with a flat palm in order to keep the bag from getting holes. She starts to do it and I turn to gradually integrating the flour mixture and wet mixture. Sarah tells Zack that he can have a turn at crushing the cornflakes since he gave her a turn stirring the flour mixture. I scold her for sitting on the bag and tell her not to do that. She laughs out a, "Yes, Mommy."

Then I catch a glimpse of Seth standing in the living room watching. His eyes are watering and he's very still. I say, "What are you doing? Are you making poo-poo?" He nods and says, "Pee-pee, too." I let out a roar of frustration then leave the mixer mixing, the two helpers crushing and grab Seth and tell him to get to the bathroom. I inspect the living room and it seems OK. Nothing got on the carpet except for a little spot of urine. I get an old rag and clean it up. Meanwhile, Seth is in the bathroom yelling incoherently. Sarah reports that he has dropped his underwear in the toilet and is waiting in the bathtub. Zack runs out of the bathroom yelling "Terrible smell! Terrible smell!" More puffs of frustration escape me as I tell Zack to bring the Febreeze. Once I've soaked up the mess and sprayed it, I go to the bathroom to clean up the culprit.

Hands washed really well, I return to the baking session. The oven is preheating and we need to get a move on. I dump more of the flour into the mixer and leave the bowl and whisk sitting on the counter. I finally tell the kids that the cornflakes are thoroughly crushed and they can stop now. They practically made corn flour out of it. I begin to empty the pantry of the other ingredients that put the buffalo in chips. A loud crash sounds behind me. When I turn, I see the bowl of flour emptied onto the floor and Zack's guilty face and a quiet, "Sorry." Everyone has frozen with baited breath for my reaction. I calmly say, "Well, how much flour do you think that is? We have to measure some more out and we won't know how much of the other stuff actually got into the mix." Realizing that they're not going to get a beating, Sarah drops to the floor and begins brushing the flour together with her hands, "Let's put it all together and then we can see how much flour it is." Zack says, "Let's get the dusting pan and then put it into the bowl." I say we can't do that and he asks the one hundred thousand dollar question, "Why?" I tell him that it's dirty. He jumps to join Sarah and they fight about who should get the dusting pan and broom to clean it up. I decide to mix in the baking soda, powder and salt all over again just in case. When I look at the two on the floor, they are covered in flour. I tell them to clean it up which they do, but the floor is still powdery with it and I can feel it getting all over the bottom of my feet as I walk around.

Flour mixture integrated, I begin measuring the chips, coconut and pecans. My helpers have disappeared, but I'm more intent on finishing the task with or without them. By the time Sarah returns, I've loaded up the first sheet with cookie dough. I put it into the oven and let Sarah do the scooping for the next cookie sheet. Zack appears and asks if he can help. I tell him that he can scoop next. I begin clearing up the counters and putting stuff away. Sarah has finished and is running around with her brothers and pretending to be Shadow Mario from one of their Game Cube games (Super Mario Sunshine, to be exact).

By the time I've switched out cookie sheets, I realize that it's past bedtime and instruct everyone to brush their teeth and get their pajamas on. Once they are all in bed, it is very quiet. I am looking at the remaining dough thinking that it sure is greasy looking. I'm sure that Grandma and Grandpa didn't mean for it to be like that, but maybe it can't be helped--they are cookies afterall. I decide to give the cookies out to neighbors and VT sisters for New Year's and begin loading them up on mini plates and putting them in ziploc bags. I'm thinking that they look a little different from when we had them at Grandma and Grandpa's house, and decide to try one just to make sure they're sharable. They taste great and they are a little crispy on the edges... I might have left them in one minute too long, but they're still chewy in the middle. When I'm brainstorming about how to label them, I look back at the recipe name and it says "Buffalo Chips (or Grandpa Randy's Oatmeal Cookies)."

Only then do I realize that we forgot the oatmeal.




You don't know whether to laugh or cry or be grossed out, do you?? These cookies are priceless and can never be duplicated as we'll never know how much flour and baking powder, baking soda and salt went into the mix. Only from writing this out have I identified the reason why we forgot the oatmeal--we were rudely interrupted by the four-year-old.

For the record, Seth is potty trained. He just has accidents every now and then. He was on the pot more than once today and he's so cute the way he yells from the toilet, "Mom! C'mere! Can you wipe my butt?" He just had a little diarhea and probably didn't know it was coming when he stood in my new living room and didn't lie about pooping and peeing in it.

Thanks for reading. I realize that I don't have to make this stuff up. I just have to record it.

Love you miss you,
Trish