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Caramelitas — The Cookie That Earns a Nod

Christmas Eve second year. I went to Gloria in the afternoon before the Clarke evening. She was in her chair by the window with the good light and Destiny was watching something on television and the tree was up, small, in the corner, with exactly the right amount of lights and no more. Gloria always has exactly the right amount of lights.

I brought food. Christmas cookies, the tea cakes, the pecan pie. I set everything on her counter and she approved each thing in turn with a nod, which is her official review process. Tea cakes: nod. Pecan pie: nod with an additional comment about crust thickness that was complimentary. Cookies: nod and then she ate one while I was still standing there, which is the highest honor.

Destiny had grown another inch. She is nearly as tall as me now, which at almost eight years old means she is going to be tall. She sat next to me on Gloria sofa and put her head on my shoulder for about three minutes and then got up and went back to her show. That three minutes felt like a complete sentence. I am here. I am comfortable here. I trust you. That is the whole sentence.

Drove to the Clarkes after. Tyler was already there. He was in the kitchen helping Debbie, which meant he was standing near Debbie looking willing while she cooked. That is helping in the Clarke family and nobody expects more and the willingness is genuinely valued.

The Caramelitas were what she reached for first — before I even had my coat off. There is something about a bar that is both cookie and pie at once, buttery and gooey and solid enough to hold its shape on a small paper plate, that felt exactly right for that afternoon: the good light by the window, Destiny’s three-minute sentence on the sofa, everything quietly in its place. If you are bringing something to someone whose approval means something, bring these.

Caramelitas

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 25 min | Total Time: 40 min + 1 hr cooling | Servings: 24 bars

Ingredients

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
  • 3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
  • 1/2 tsp baking soda
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 3/4 cup unsalted butter, melted
  • 1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
  • 3/4 cup caramel sauce (store-bought or homemade)
  • 3 tbsp all-purpose flour (for the caramel layer)

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan or line with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on two sides for easy lifting.
  2. Make the oat base. In a large bowl, stir together 1 cup flour, oats, brown sugar, baking soda, and salt. Pour in the melted butter and stir until the mixture is evenly moistened and crumbly.
  3. Press and par-bake. Press slightly more than half of the oat mixture firmly and evenly into the bottom of the prepared pan. Bake for 10 minutes, until just set and lightly golden at the edges.
  4. Layer the filling. Remove from oven. Scatter the chocolate chips evenly over the hot crust. In a small bowl, whisk the caramel sauce with 3 tbsp flour until smooth, then drizzle it evenly over the chocolate chips.
  5. Add the topping. Crumble the remaining oat mixture over the caramel layer in small clumps, covering as much surface as possible without pressing down.
  6. Bake. Return to oven and bake 15—20 minutes, until the topping is golden brown and the caramel is bubbling at the edges.
  7. Cool completely. Let the bars cool in the pan at room temperature for at least 1 hour — the caramel needs time to set before cutting. Lift out using the parchment overhang and cut into bars.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 205 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 10g | Carbs: 28g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 115mg

Savannah Clarke
About the cook who shared this
Savannah Clarke
Week 508 of Savannah’s 30-year story · Prattville, Alabama
Savannah is twenty-seven, engaged, and a daycare worker in Prattville, Alabama, who grew up in foster care and never had a kitchen to call her own until she was nineteen. She taught herself to cook from YouTube videos and church cookbooks, and now she makes fried chicken that would make your grandmother jealous. She writes for the girls who grew up like her — without a family recipe box, without a mama in the kitchen, without anyone to show them how. She's showing them now.

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