Chocolate Cherry Cookies

The first week home. The hardest, best, most exhausting, most beautiful week of my life. Tommy sleeps in two-hour increments, which means nobody sleeps, which means we exist in a fog of love and caffeine and the particular madness of new parenthood.

He is tiny. He is so tiny. His hands are the size of walnuts. His feet are the size of my thumb. He fits in the crook of my arm like he was designed to be there, which he was, by biology and God and whatever force decided that this particular combination of Kowalski and O'Brien should exist.

Megan is extraordinary. She's sore, exhausted, hormonal, and the best mother I've ever seen. She nurses Tommy with a calm focus that is either instinct or the teacher training or both. She talks to him — narrates everything, like he's a student in her most important class. "Now we're going to change your diaper. Now we're going to eat. Now we're going to look out the window." He stares at her with eyes that can barely focus and I think, this woman is his entire world. She is mine too.

I do the night feedings. When Megan pumps, I take the 2 AM and 4 AM shifts. I walk circles around the house holding Tommy against my chest, singing — not well, never well — the Counting Crows songs I've been listening to for fifteen years. He doesn't care about my singing voice. He cares about the vibration of my chest and the warmth of my arms and the fact that someone is here, in the dark, holding him. I have never been more tired or more content.

The freezer meals are saving us. Reheated pierogi at 3 AM. Soup at midnight. Golabki for dinner. The frozen army, deployed. Babcia's recipes, feeding a new generation at ungodly hours. Food is love. Food at 3 AM is a special kind of love.

The small Lakefront Brewery shift-work continues to be the small steady-paycheck. The small forty-hour-week brewery-floor job pays the small twenty-two-an-hour rate that the small Milwaukee-blue-collar-economy supports. The small benefits are the small union-decent. The small ten-year-tenure-target is the small career-anchor.

Megan is from a small Irish-Catholic Milwaukee-suburban family. The small Sunday-dinners at her small parents’ house rotate with the small Sunday-dinners at Jake’s parents’ house. The small in-laws on both sides have been the small welcoming-presence. The small two-family-network is the small extended-support the small newlywed-life rests on.

The small future-kid-conversations have begun. Megan teaches small fourth-grade at a small public school in Wauwatosa. The small adoption-vs-biological conversation is in the small early-discussion stage. The small five-year-plan includes the small kid-or-kids in some form. The small kitchen is the small place where the small future is being practiced.

Megan and Jake married in June 2024. The small newlywed-rhythm is in its small second year. The small two-bedroom rental on the small east-side of Milwaukee continues to be the small first-home. The small thirty-year-mortgage-eventually-someday is the small five-year-goal. The small marriage is the small foundation the small life is being built on.

The small Polish-American heritage is the small kitchen-identity. The small pierogi-recipe-cards from Babcia Helen (Jake’s grandmother who passed in 2018, who had lived two blocks from the small Bay-View family-house) is the small monthly-Saturday-tradition. The small kielbasa-and-sauerkraut. The small bigos. The small recipes that came over from the small Krakow-region in the small 1910s.

The small Milwaukee-winter is the small six-month-condition. The small cold-weather-comfort-food rotation runs October through April. The small soups, the small stews, the small braises, the small heavy-baked-goods. The small Midwestern-comfort-vocabulary is the small kitchen-language.

Babcia’s pierogi gets all the glory in this house, and it deserves it — but when you’re walking circles at 2 AM with a walnut-fisted newborn on your chest, sometimes you need something sweet waiting in the freezer too. These Chocolate Cherry Cookies were part of the batch we made the week before Tommy arrived, stacked in a freezer bag alongside the soups and the golabki, and I cannot tell you how many times I grabbed two of them at some ungodly hour and felt, for just a minute, like everything was going to be fine.

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

Ingredients

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 jar (10 oz) maraschino cherries, drained and halved (reserve 2 tablespoons juice)
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
2 tablespoons heavy cream

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
Add wet ingredients. Beat in the egg and vanilla extract until fully combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Mix dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, mixing on low until a soft dough forms.
Scoop the dough. Roll dough into 1-inch balls and place about 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Use your thumb or the back of a teaspoon to press a small indent into the center of each ball.
Add the cherries. Place one maraschino cherry half, cut side down, into the center indent of each cookie.
Make the chocolate glaze. In a small saucepan over low heat, combine the chocolate chips, heavy cream, and reserved 2 tablespoons of cherry juice. Stir constantly until melted and smooth, about 2–3 minutes. Spoon about 1 teaspoon of glaze over each cherry, covering it slightly.
Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the cookies are set and the glaze is glossy. Do not overbake — they will firm up as they cool.
Cool and store. Let cookies cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Once fully cooled, layer in an airtight container or zip-top freezer bag with parchment between layers. Freeze for up to 3 months.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Cherry Cookies — The Frozen Army Keeps Feeding Us