Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Chip Cookies

Mid-February, the kind of cold that makes a pot of beans on the stove the right answer to everything. Three days of counseling at the middle school in East Point. The work was the work.

Daddy in his apartment in the back. I brought him his coffee and his medication this morning. He grumbled. The grumble was the love. I caught the smell of Mama's seasoning blend at the stove Tuesday morning. Just for a second. The grief comes when it comes.

Pot roast Sunday. Five hours low. The kitchen smelled like Sunday from breakfast on.

Marcus, 20, studying for finals at Alabama. Jasmine, 18, home from Howard for the weekend.

Sunday dinner held. The table was full. The food was right.

Thursday I made cornbread for a sister at church whose husband had surgery. I dropped it off at the hospital. She cried at the door. I told her, eat the cornbread, baby. The food is the saying.

The neighbors had a Friday cookout this week. I brought my mac and cheese. They have come to expect this. I have come to expect this. The block is the block.

The blood pressure check was Wednesday. The numbers were borderline. The doctor wants me to walk more. I am walking more.

Daddy sat in his chair after dinner watching the news. He fell asleep before the third quarter. Standard.

Tuesday evening I sat at the kitchen table with my composition notebook and worked on the cookbook. From Brenda's Kitchen — that's the working title. I cannot write the introduction without crying yet.

Andre called from LA. He told the Kevin Hart story again. Twenty-some years and that boy is still telling that story. Everyone in this family is going to hear about Kevin Hart at our funerals.

I made a casserole for the church potluck. The pan came back empty. That is the only review I trust.

I read for an hour Sunday night before bed. Some novel about a Black woman in 1960s Alabama. Mama would have liked it.

Miss Ernestine called Tuesday. She's ninety-something and sharp as ever. She told me my potato salad still needs more mustard.

I had a hard counseling case at school this week. A seventh-grade girl whose mama lost her job. We talked. I gave her my number. I told her she could call.

Darnell sent a photo from Clarksville. The garden is producing. He grew tomatoes the size of softballs. I sent him back a photo of my sweet potato casserole. We are competitive about food now in our middle age.

I went to the cemetery Saturday morning. Brenda's grave is on the hill at South-View. Curtis still goes most Sundays. I left a small bouquet of magnolias.

The kids were home for the weekend. The house was loud the way it should be.

Derek and I had date night Friday. Same restaurant, same booth, same enchiladas for me and carne asada for him.

Wednesday Bible study at the church. We read through Proverbs. The women in my row argued about whether wisdom is built or born. I said both. They agreed, sort of.

Pastor preached about the prodigal son again. He preaches about that boy at least three times a year. The text is the text but every preaching is different. I cried in the second service this time. Don't ask me why.

I drove to the Walmart on Camp Creek Saturday morning. The kind of grocery run that takes two hours because you run into three people you know. Sister Patrice caught me in the produce. We talked about her grandbaby for fifteen minutes.

The pan that came back empty from the church potluck, the cornbread dropped at a hospital door, the mac and cheese expected on the block — all of it comes from the same place in me, the understanding that the food is the saying when words won’t do. These cookies are what I reach for when I need something to put in someone’s hands: chocolate chips and peanut butter chips together, the kind of simple that still feels like you meant it. I’ve left a bag of these on more than one doorstep this month alone.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 11 min | Total Time: 26 min | Servings: 48 cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp fine salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup peanut butter chips

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Combine dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with the granulated sugar and brown sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
Add eggs and vanilla. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in the vanilla extract until fully incorporated.
Add the flour mixture. Reduce mixer speed to low and gradually add the flour mixture, mixing just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Fold in chips. Using a wooden spoon or rubber spatula, stir in the chocolate chips and peanut butter chips until evenly distributed throughout the dough.
Portion the dough. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart.
Bake. Bake for 9–11 minutes, until the edges are just set and lightly golden but the centers still look slightly underdone. They will firm up as they cool.
Cool. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. Repeat with remaining dough.

Nutrition (per serving)

Chocolate Chip Peanut Butter Chip Cookies — The Kind You Leave at Someone’s Door