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Crispy Chocolate Chip Cookies — The First Recipe She Ever Made in My Kitchen

Two weeks from today Kezia leaves for culinary school. I have been thinking about what to give her. I decided in May that the answer was the cast iron skillet I have been seasoning — the ten-inch, which is right for a single person living in a dormitory or small apartment, which is right for someone beginning rather than already established. But I have also been thinking about what else to put with it. You don't give someone a cast iron alone. You give them the cast iron and something that helps them understand what they have received.

I decided: the recipe booklet. The second edition, signed. And a handwritten note — not long, not instructional, because she doesn't need instruction anymore. Something that tells her what I see when I look at what she has become over four years of Saturday mornings and notebooks and the smell of someone else's kitchen becoming a place where she belongs. I started the note three times. The third time I got it right.

I wrote: the kitchen is always the right place. When you are uncertain, cook. When you are homesick, cook what home smells like. When you are doing the work you were meant to do, you will find that the kitchen understands it before you do. Take this pan and season it with whatever your life requires. It will hold all of it. It always has. Come back to this table whenever you need to. Your place is not going anywhere. It is held for you. It has been held for you since you were fourteen years old with a notebook in your pocket and your whole life in front of you. It still is. Go now. Go all the way.

The first thing Kezia ever made in my kitchen — the very first Saturday morning, fourteen years old with that notebook already open on the counter — was a batch of chocolate chip cookies. They came out too crispy on the bottom and she was embarrassed, but I told her the truth: crispy is a choice, not a mistake, and someday she would understand the difference. I put this recipe in the booklet. It is the first one in it. It belongs with the pan.

Crispy Chocolate Chip Cookies

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

Ingredients

  • 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1 teaspoon fine sea salt
  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted and cooled slightly
  • 3/4 cup granulated sugar
  • 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar
  • 2 large eggs
  • 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips

Instructions

  1. Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 375°F. If using a cast iron skillet, place it in the oven while it preheats to ensure even heat distribution.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt. Set aside.
  3. Combine wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk the melted butter with both sugars until smooth and slightly glossy, about 1 minute. Add eggs one at a time, whisking well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla.
  4. Form the dough. Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients and stir with a wooden spoon or spatula until just combined — do not overmix. Fold in the chocolate chips.
  5. Portion and bake. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto a parchment-lined baking sheet (or carefully into the warmed cast iron skillet), spacing them about 2 inches apart. Bake for 11–13 minutes, until the edges are deeply golden and the centers look just set. For a skillet cookie, spread all the dough into the 10-inch pan and bake 18–22 minutes.
  6. Cool on the pan. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They will crisp further as they cool — that is the point.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 210 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 115mg

Loretta Simms
About the cook who shared this
Loretta Simms
Week 440 of Loretta’s 30-year story · Birmingham, Alabama
Loretta is a fifty-six-year-old pastor's wife in Birmingham, Alabama, who has been feeding her church and her community for thirty-four years. She lost her teenage son Jeremiah in a car accident, and she cooked through the grief because that is what Loretta does — she feeds people. Every funeral, every homecoming, every Wednesday night supper. If you are hurting, Loretta will show up at your door with a casserole and she will not leave until you eat.

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