Devil’s Food Cookies

Post-birthday reality: Tommy is walking. Not well. Not confidently. But walking. He pulls himself up on furniture and takes three wobbly steps and falls down and laughs and tries again. The Kowalski approach to failure: fall, laugh, try again. He learned this without being taught. It's genetic.

The house is now a hazard zone. Everything is at Tommy-height. Every outlet has a cover (Tom installed them). Every cabinet has a lock (Tom installed those too). Every corner has a rubber bumper (Linda installed those, refusing to wait for Tom). The house has been baby-proofed by a team of anxious grandparents who view Tommy's mobility as both a miracle and a threat.

At the brewery, I'm working on the apple sour — the fall entry. Wisconsin apples, pressed and fermented, blended with a base sour and barrel-aged for depth. The apple gives it a cider-like quality without being cider. It's the most complex sour I've attempted. The head brewer tasted the test batch and was quiet for a long time — his thinking quiet, not his disapproving quiet — and said, "This might be your best one." Might. From him, "might" is definitive.

Made a beef stew — the fall comfort meal, simple and sturdy. Chuck roast, potatoes, carrots, onion, in a rich brown broth. Tommy ate some — soft carrots and potato pieces. He's eating real food now. Not purees. Real food. He sits in the high chair and eats what we eat (in smaller pieces) and the three of us eat dinner together at the table like a family. Because we are. A family. At a table. Eating beef stew. Ordinary. Perfect.

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.

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 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.

Once Tommy was down and the stew bowls were cleared, Megan pulled out the cocoa and said something about wanting something sweet — not elaborate, just satisfying. That’s the mood of the whole season, really: not fancy, just right. These Devil’s Food Cookies have become our cold-weather ritual, the same way the stew has, the same way the pierogis on Saturday mornings have — one more thing that makes the small Milwaukee kitchen feel like ours.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 25 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 box (15.25 oz) devil’s food cake mix
2 large eggs
1/3 cup vegetable oil
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1/4 cup powdered sugar, for rolling (optional)

Instructions

Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Mix the dough. In a large bowl, stir together the cake mix, eggs, oil, and vanilla extract until a thick, sticky dough forms. Fold in the chocolate chips.
Portion. Scoop dough by rounded tablespoons (about 1.5 inches). If desired, roll each ball lightly in powdered sugar for a crinkle effect.
Bake. Place balls 2 inches apart on prepared baking sheets. Bake for 9—11 minutes, until the edges are set but the centers still look slightly underdone. Do not overbake — they firm up as they cool.
Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. They will be fudgy and dense once fully cooled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Devil’s Food Cookies — The Sweet Ending to an Ordinary, Perfect Night