The Best Chocolate Crinkle Cookies

Kevin and Lisa visited this weekend — a three-day trip, Friday through Sunday. They stayed in our guest room (the living room couch, technically, since we don't have a guest room; Kevin did not complain; Lisa brought an air mattress). Kevin held Hana for most of Saturday. He sat on the floor with her and showed her his hands — big, coffee-stained, scarred from years of working with roasting equipment — and Hana grabbed his index finger and held it with her small hand and Kevin went very still and very quiet and I watched from the kitchen and I saw something on his face that I had never seen before: peace. Not the hard-won, daily-maintained peace of sobriety. A different peace. The peace of holding your niece's hand and knowing that you are alive and sober and present and here, in this moment, in this living room, with your sister and her daughter, and nobody is in trouble and nobody is using and nobody is lost. Everyone is found. Kevin is found.

Lisa made dinner Saturday night — her Thai coconut curry, the one she made in Portland when we visited. She has refined it: more lemongrass, less sugar, a squeeze of lime at the end. It was excellent. Kevin and James talked about coffee and business and fatherhood (Kevin is not a father but he has opinions about fatherhood that are, I must admit, surprisingly insightful for a man whose primary relationship is with a dog named Scout). Lisa and I talked about Karen, about Parkinson's, about the particular exhaustion of watching a parent decline while raising a child. Lisa lost her father three years ago — cancer, fast, six months from diagnosis to death. She said, "The slow decline is different. The slow decline gives you time to grieve in installments." She said, "Use the installments. Don't save them up." She is wise. She is good for Kevin. She is good for all of us.

On Sunday morning, Kevin and I had coffee on the porch — Bridge City, of course — while James and Lisa walked to the farmers market with Hana in the stroller. The morning was quiet. Kevin said, "Steph. I need to tell you something." I said, "Okay." He said, "I've been thinking about what you asked me in Portland — about whether I think about my birth parents." I said, "I remember." He said, "I think about them more now. Since Hana. Since watching you with Jisoo. Since watching what reunion looks like. I'm not going to search. But I think about them." I said, "That's okay, Kevin." He said, "I know. I just wanted you to know that I think about them. I wanted someone to know." I put my hand on his. We sat on the porch in the Seattle morning and drank coffee and thought about the people who made us and gave us away and the people who raised us and loved us and the baby sleeping in a stroller at the farmers market who will never, ever have to search for anyone. The coffee was very good. The morning was very good. Kevin is very good.

The recipe this week is Bridge City coffee — not a food recipe but a drink recipe, because Kevin brought four bags and taught me his pour-over technique on Sunday morning and the coffee was so good that it deserves to be documented. Medium-fine grind. Water at 205 degrees. Bloom for 30 seconds. Pour in slow spirals. Total brew time: 3 minutes 30 seconds. The coffee Kevin brought was Ethiopian Yirgacheffe — floral, blueberry, chocolate. He roasted it himself two days before the visit. The coffee was love in a bag. The pour-over was love in a cup. Kevin gives love through roasted beans. I receive it through the first sip. The sip is always perfect.

Kevin’s Yirgacheffe had three tasting notes on the bag — floral, blueberry, and chocolate — and when he left Sunday afternoon I stood in the kitchen still thinking about that last cup and the word that kept coming up was chocolate. I made these crinkle cookies that evening, after James put Hana down, while the house was still warm from having people in it. They are the right thing to bake when someone you love has just left and you want the kitchen to smell like the part of them that stayed.

Prep Time: 20 min + 2 hrs chilling | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 2 hrs 32 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp baking soda
1/4 tsp salt
1 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup vegetable oil
2 large eggs
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 oz dark chocolate (70% or higher), melted and slightly cooled
1/2 cup powdered sugar, for rolling

Instructions

Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
Combine wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the granulated sugar, vegetable oil, eggs, and vanilla extract until smooth and slightly thickened, about 2 minutes. Stir in the melted dark chocolate.
Form the dough. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir until a soft dough forms. The dough will be sticky — this is correct.
Chill. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours, or overnight. The dough must be cold to roll properly and to hold the crinkle pattern.
Preheat and prep. When ready to bake, preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Place the powdered sugar in a shallow bowl.
Roll the cookies. Scoop the chilled dough by rounded tablespoons (about 1 inch each). Roll each portion between your palms into a ball, then roll generously in powdered sugar until fully coated. Place on the prepared baking sheets 2 inches apart.
Bake. Bake for 11–12 minutes, until the edges are set and the centers look just slightly underdone. Do not overbake — they will firm up as they cool and the fudgy center is the point.
Cool. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. The crinkle pattern develops as they cool. Serve alongside a pour-over, preferably Ethiopian Yirgacheffe, preferably roasted by someone who loves you.

Nutrition (per serving)

The Best Chocolate Crinkle Cookies — The Chocolate Notes Kevin Brought in a Bag