Breakfast Cookies — The Batch That Disappeared Before February

Halfway through January and I am counting the days until spring, which in Nebraska means I am counting until approximately April, which feels like a prison sentence imposed by the weather. The fields along I-80 are white and frozen and the sky has been the same shade of gray for three weeks and the sun appears for approximately four hours a day and seems apologetic about it.

I have been stress-baking again, which is what happens when the weather is oppressive and the kids are restless and I need to do something with my hands that produces something warm. This week I made banana bread twice, cinnamon rolls on Saturday morning, and a batch of oatmeal raisin cookies that disappeared in twenty-four hours, which is either a testament to how good they are or how desperate everyone is for something sweet in January. Both.

The cinnamon rolls were the highlight. I make them from scratch: yeast dough, risen twice, rolled out with butter and brown sugar and cinnamon, cut into rounds, placed in a pan, risen again, baked until golden. The icing is cream cheese frosting, because cream cheese frosting on cinnamon rolls is not optional, it is essential, the way oxygen is essential. The rolls take three hours from start to finish and they are worth every minute. The kids ate them at the table, still warm, with the icing dripping down their fingers, and nobody talked because the rolls were too good for talking. Silence during eating is the highest compliment a baker can receive.

Dave asked me to teach him to make the cinnamon rolls. Dave, who can barely make spaghetti, wants to learn cinnamon rolls. I said yes before he could change his mind. We will start next weekend. I expect disaster. I expect flour on the ceiling. I expect the yeast to not rise because Dave will get impatient and open the oven too early. But he asked, and he meant it, and the asking is the thing that matters, because Dave has been eating my cooking for twelve years and this is the first time he has wanted to know how.

Tyler asked if he could help too. He has been interested in the kitchen since that gravy lesson last year, and I said of course. So next Saturday it will be me, Dave, and Tyler, making cinnamon rolls in a kitchen that is too small for three people and a yeast dough that needs room to breathe. It will be chaotic. It will be perfect. That is how everything works in this house.

All that talk of next weekend’s cinnamon roll chaos left me wanting something I could bake quietly on my own first—something simple and forgiving, the kind of recipe that asks nothing of you but still turns out right. These oatmeal raisin breakfast cookies are exactly that. They are what I made the morning after that dinner, while the house was still sleeping and I had the kitchen to myself one last time before I hand it over to flour-covered beginners I love very much.

Oatmeal Raisin Breakfast Cookies

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 27 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ground nutmeg
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
• 1 1/2 cups raisins

Instructions

1. Preheat. Heat your oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
2. Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar together on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
3. Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then mix in the vanilla extract until fully combined.
4. Mix the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, and salt.
5. Combine. Add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture and stir until just incorporated — don’t overmix.
6. Fold in oats and raisins. Stir in the rolled oats and raisins until evenly distributed throughout the dough.
7. Portion and bake. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are golden but the centers still look just slightly underdone.
8. Cool briefly. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They firm up as they cool. Eat at least one warm — it’s the rule.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 98mg