By Christmas Day. I am writing this at the kitchen table in the quiet aftermath, the way I did last year, with wrapping paper everywhere and the tree lights on and the house smelling like ham and cake and the specific warmth that comes from having every person you love under one roof. Some people call that feeling joy. I call it Tuesday if Tuesday were perfect, which it never is, but Christmas comes close.
Christmas Eve was the stew. The upgraded stew with parsnips. The bread was warm. The candles were lit. Gayle came at four. Larry came at five, later than planned because he was hauling until noon, which I was not happy about because Christmas Eve should not include an I-80 run but Larry does not consult me on his schedule. He arrived smelling like diesel and coffee and December highway, and he ate two bowls of stew and a piece of bread and fell asleep in the recliner before eight.
Christmas morning: five-thirty a.m. Josie. Running. Screaming. It is Christmas. The annual alarm clock that runs on excitement and needs no batteries. The presents were opened in a tornado of paper and delight. Amber got books and a journal and a set of colored pens for the journal. Tyler got a new set of shop tools. Justin got a Wilson football, again, because he loves them and goes through them at a rate that suggests he is punishing them. Josie got art supplies and a science kit and she spent the entire morning mixing solutions and declaring herself a scientist.
Christmas dinner: ham glazed with brown sugar and Dijon, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole, rolls, the chocolate sheet cake. Gayle brought her pumpkin pie. Larry ate until he was comatose. Dave carved the ham. The table was full. The food was warm. The candles were lit.
Gayle said grace and she mentioned Darla, the way she does, and we bowed our heads, and the name filled the room like a candle flame, small and warm and impossible to ignore. And then we ate. We ate because the food was there and we were there and being together at a table on Christmas is the most important thing a family can do, and we did it, and it was good.
The chocolate sheet cake gets all the glory on Christmas Day — and it should, because it is magnificent — but what I keep coming back to, in the quiet days after, is something simpler to tuck into a tin and leave on the counter for whoever wanders through. This chocolate chip cookie brittle is exactly that: thin, crispy, buttery, and full of chocolate, the kind of thing you break into pieces and eat standing at the kitchen counter while the tree lights are still on. It is not fancy. It does not need to be. After a table full of people and a room full of warmth, simple is exactly right.
Chocolate Chip Cookie Brittle
Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 30 minutes | Servings: 24
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 1 cup granulated sugar
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 1/2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
- 1/2 cup finely chopped walnuts or pecans (optional)
Instructions
- Preheat the oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a large rimmed baking sheet (half sheet pan, approximately 18x13 inches) with parchment paper.
- Mix the dough. Beat the softened butter and sugar together in a large bowl until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Mix in the vanilla extract and salt. Add the flour and stir until a crumbly dough forms — it will look dry at first, but keep mixing until it comes together.
- Press onto the pan. Turn the dough out onto the prepared baking sheet. Using your hands or the bottom of a measuring cup, press it into a thin, even layer covering the entire pan. The layer should be very thin — about 1/4 inch thick.
- Add toppings. Scatter the chocolate chips (and nuts, if using) evenly over the surface. Press them gently into the dough so they adhere.
- Bake. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the edges are golden brown and the center looks set. The brittle will firm up as it cools, so don’t over-bake.
- Cool and break. Let the brittle cool completely on the pan, at least 30 minutes. Once fully cooled, break it into irregular pieces with your hands. Store in an airtight tin or container.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 55mg