← Back to Blog

Double Chocolate M&M Cookies — Because Sometimes Grief Needs Something Sweet and Unhurried

I had a showing in Hyde Park today where the sellers had left a pot of something on the stove — some kind of soup, probably from a can — and the whole house smelled like someone was home even though no one was. I stood in the kitchen and breathed it in and thought about how every house I sell is really selling a feeling, and the feeling people want most is the one I had growing up on Dodecanese Boulevard: the sense that someone is cooking for you, that someone cares enough to stand at a stove and make something from scratch.

Alexander brought home a progress report. All A's and one B-plus in chemistry, which he is furious about because my son treats a B-plus like a personal insult. I told him his Papou never finished high school and ran a bakery for forty years and was the proudest man in Tarpon Springs. Alexander said that was not the same thing. He is right. It is not. But pride looks the same on every Papadopoulos, whether you are angry about a B-plus or angry about a daughter who wants to go to college.

Mama called me three times this week. Once to tell me the spanakopita at the bakery was selling faster than usual. Once to tell me Aunt Sophia — the dramatic one — was having some kind of medical issue that turned out to be heartburn. And once, at midnight, to say nothing. She just called and breathed on the phone and I breathed back and after two minutes she said kalinikta koritsi mou and hung up. Goodnight, my girl. I lay in bed afterward and stared at the ceiling and thought: this is what grief sounds like in Greek. Silence on a phone line. Breathing together across forty miles.

I made gigantes plaki tonight — giant white beans baked in tomato sauce with dill and olive oil until they are creamy and collapsing. It is peasant food. It is the food Yia-yia Despina made on Fridays because the Orthodox fast does not allow meat, and Despina kept every fast, every feast, every rule the church handed down. I do not keep the fasts anymore — I stopped pretending after the divorce — but I make the food because the food outlasts the faith. The beans were thick and rich and I ate them with crusty bread and too much olive oil.

The real estate market is picking up. I have three new listings coming next week. Life continues. The beans were delicious. Baba would have wanted lamb instead. He always wanted lamb instead. That stubborn, impossible, beloved man who lives now only in the food I make and the silence my mother calls me with at midnight.

But grief is not linear, and neither is my kitchen. After a week of beans and bread and midnight phone calls, I needed something that was not humble at all — something rich and a little reckless, something Baba would have actually reached for without complaint. He had an impossible sweet tooth, that man. So I melted chocolate and butter together and made these ridiculous, fudgy, crackle-topped cookies loaded with M&M’s, because sometimes you honor the people you love not with their traditions but with the pure, uncomplicated joy of something sweet. Here is the recipe.

Double Chocolate M&M Cookies

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 13 min | Total Time: 28 min | Servings: 24

Ingredients

  • 1 cup all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon salt
  • 4 ounces semisweet or milk chocolate (coarsely chopped)
  • 1/2 cup butter, cut into eight pieces
  • 3/4 cup M&M’s
  • 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 teaspoon vanilla

Instructions

  1. Prep the dry ingredients. Preheat oven to 325 degrees. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, and salt; set aside.
  2. Melt the chocolate and butter. In a medium microwave-safe bowl, place the chopped chocolate and the butter. Microwave for one minute at 50% power. Stir. Microwave again for one minute at 50% power and stir well. If the chocolate is not fully melted, continue microwaving in 30 second intervals at 50% power until the chocolate and butter are well combined (don’t overheat the chocolate or it can seize and turn hard and unusable). Let the mixture cool slightly, about 2-3 minutes until it is at room temperature or just slightly warm (but not hot).
  3. Mix the dough. In a large bowl (or in the bowl of an electric stand mixer), combine the chocolate mixture, sugar, eggs, and vanilla. Mix on medium speed until combined. Gradually mix in flour mixture on low speed. Fold in M&M’s with a wooden spoon (don’t use a mixer as the M&M’s will break into pieces and not stay whole).
  4. Shape and arrange. Line baking sheets with parchment paper, silpat liners or lightly grease them with cooking spray. Drop dough onto baking sheets by tablespoonfuls (or use a cookie scoop) spacing them about 1 1/2 inches apart. If desired, place five or six M&M’s on top of the cookie dough balls (even perched slightly on the rounded sides).
  5. Bake and cool. Bake the cookies until they have slightly flattened and there are a few cracks on the surface, about 13-14 minutes. The cookies will still be soft. Let the cookies sit for 2-3 minutes on the baking sheet before removing them to a wire rack to cool completely.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 172 kcal | Protein: 2g | Fat: 8g | Saturated Fat: 5g | Carbs: 24g | Fiber: 1g | Sugar: 18g | Cholesterol: 27mg | Sodium: 116mg

Eleni Papadopoulos
About the cook who shared this
Eleni Papadopoulos
Week 3 of Eleni’s 30-year story · Tampa, Florida
Eleni is a fifty-three-year-old Greek-American real estate agent in Tampa who rebuilt her life after her husband's business collapsed and took everything with it — the house, the savings, the marriage. She went back to her roots, cooking the Mediterranean food her Yiayia taught her in Tarpon Springs, and discovered that olive oil and stubbornness can get you through almost anything. Her spanakopita could stop traffic. Her comeback story could inspire a movie.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?