Mint Chocolate-Covered Cookies

The Santa Ana winds came through Tuesday. Fire warnings. Ryan was on duty at Miramar. Standard week.

Caleb, 8, wants to be a firefighter still. Has not deviated. Hazel, 5, opinions about everything. Has Donna's directness without the diplomacy.

Meatloaf Tuesday. The classic. Glazed. Mashed potatoes underneath.

Mom called Sunday. We talked while she was putting up tomatoes from the garden. She is sixty-something and gardening like she is forty.

Ryan came home from work. Dinner was on the stove. The basics held.

The kids' soccer game was Saturday morning. The other parents brought oranges and Capri Suns. I brought a thermos of coffee for myself and a folding chair I bought at Target three years ago that has been to four duty stations now. The chair is a more loyal companion than some of my friends.

My therapy session was Tuesday. We talked about the deployment cycle and the way the body holds dread and the ways the body holds it. The hour passed. The work continues. I have been doing this work for years. The work pays.

Ryan came home tired Wednesday. He showered, ate, sat on the couch, was asleep by eight. Standard for a Marine who has been up since four-thirty for PT and stayed late for a brief. The schedule is the schedule. The body adapts because it has to.

I read the blog comments at the kitchen table with my coffee. A young spouse in Lejeune emailed me about deployment cooking. I wrote her back at length. I told her about the freezer. I told her about Donna. I told her she would survive. I sent her three of Donna's recipes.

Base housing is base housing. Beige walls, beige carpet, beige expectations. The dryer venting is in a stupid place. The kitchen has no dishwasher. We make it work.

The kitchen counter has a chip in it from someone before us. Some military housing thing. I have stopped asking what. The chip is fine. The whole kitchen is provisional. We are renting from Uncle Sam.

Caleb's school had a fundraiser this week. I baked cookies because I always bake cookies. The cookies were the standard chocolate chip. They sold out in twenty minutes. I am the cookie mom of this PTO and I have stopped fighting it.

The military spouses' Facebook group had a small drama this week. Two women fighting over the playgroup schedule. I muted notifications and cooked dinner. Some weeks the group is the lifeline. Some weeks it is the source of unnecessary stress. The skill is knowing which week you're in.

Ryan's friends came over Friday for a beer. I made wings and chips. They demolished both. Standard Marine appetite — they eat like they are still on rations. The kitchen looked like a battlefield by the end. They cleaned up. Marines clean up. Donna would have been impressed.

I went for a walk Sunday morning before the kids got up. Half an hour. The fog was burning off. I needed it. Some weeks I get the walk in. Some weeks I don't. The week tells me which.

Wednesday morning meal prep — Sunday afternoon, hours of containers. The freezer is full. The future-me thanks present-me. Donna taught me this routine. Donna's freezer was always full. Donna saved her sanity with quart bags labeled in Sharpie.

I made a casserole for a neighbor whose husband is deployed. I dropped it off. She cried. I told her, eat the casserole, baby. The food is the saying. The casserole was a mostly-frozen tater-tot situation that took fifteen minutes of effort and six months of practice to perfect.

I have stopped fighting the cookie mom label, so I might as well own it with a recipe that justifies it. The chocolate chip cookies I baked for the school fundraiser this week were the standard, dependable version — but when I have a little more time and the week hasn’t completely flattened me, these mint chocolate-covered cookies are the ones I reach for. They sold out faster than the chocolate chip. The PTO does not forget.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 45 min (includes cooling) | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup powdered sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
2 cups dark or semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 tablespoon vegetable shortening
1/4 cup crushed peppermint candies or candy canes (optional, for topping)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Cream the butter. In a large bowl, beat softened butter and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
Add extracts. Mix in vanilla and peppermint extract until just combined. Taste and adjust peppermint — a little goes a long way.
Mix in dry ingredients. Add flour and salt, mixing on low until a soft dough forms. Do not overmix. The dough will be slightly crumbly but should hold together when pressed.
Shape the cookies. Roll dough into 1-inch balls and place on prepared baking sheets about 1 1/2 inches apart. Gently flatten each ball with the bottom of a glass.
Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until edges are just set and bottoms are lightly golden. Centers will look slightly underdone — that’s correct. Do not overbake.
Cool completely. Transfer to a wire rack and let cookies cool fully before dipping, at least 20 minutes. Warm cookies will seize the chocolate.
Melt the chocolate. Combine chocolate chips and shortening in a microwave-safe bowl. Microwave in 30-second intervals, stirring between each, until smooth and fully melted, about 1 1/2 minutes total.
Dip and coat. Dip each cooled cookie halfway into the melted chocolate, or spoon chocolate over the top. Let excess drip off. Place on parchment to set.
Garnish and set. Immediately sprinkle crushed peppermint candies over the chocolate if using. Let cookies sit at room temperature until chocolate is fully hardened, about 20–30 minutes. Refrigerating for 10 minutes speeds this up.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mint Chocolate-Covered Cookies — What the Cookie Mom of the PTO Actually Brings