Oatmeal S’more Cookies

December. Six months until I stand at the altar at St. Josaphat and watch Megan walk toward me. Six months. The countdown app on Megan's phone tells me this in days and hours. I've stopped asking her to put the phone away. The countdown is part of her process. The countdown is how Megan processes joy — she measures it, tracks it, maps it on a timeline. She is a teacher. Everything is a lesson plan.

Winter at the brewery means dark beers and long nights and the particular satisfaction of making something warm when the world is cold. The winter warmer is back. The coffee stout is back. The sour program continues — three more barrels aging, each one a different experiment. The head brewer walks past the barrel room every morning and looks in and says nothing. His silence is approval. His words would be criticism. I've learned to read the difference.

Megan and I decorated the apartment for Christmas. The tree — a real one, again, because Megan won this argument permanently last year — is in the corner of the living room, slightly too tall, slightly crooked, covered in ornaments that range from "elegant glass ball" (Megan's) to "hockey puck on a string" (mine). The apartment smells like pine and cinnamon and the vanilla candle Megan keeps in the bathroom. It smells like home. It smells like us.

Made gingerbread cookies for the brewery holiday party. Three dozen, iced by Megan with the precision of a woman who writes report cards by hand. She decorated each cookie differently and labeled them: "Head Brewer" (grumpy face), "Jake" (pierogi shape), "Steve" (beer mug). They were a hit. The head brewer ate his grumpy-faced cookie without comment. This is the highest form of appreciation he is capable of.

The gingerbread cookies were Megan’s masterpiece, but they got me thinking about what I’d bring next time if I were flying solo in the kitchen — something a little less precision-iced, a little more chaos-in-the-best-way. These oatmeal s’more cookies are exactly that: hearty, gooey, impossible to decorate with a grumpy face, but absolutely the right move for a room full of people who spend their days making beer and their evenings pretending they don’t have feelings. The marshmallow and chocolate do the emotional labor for you.

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 32 min | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
1 cup graham cracker pieces (roughly crushed into small chunks)
1 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 cup mini marshmallows

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter, granulated sugar, and brown sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla extract and mix until fully incorporated.
Mix dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Gradually add the dry mixture to the butter mixture, stirring until just combined.
Fold in the oats and mix-ins. Stir in the rolled oats, graham cracker pieces, and chocolate chips until evenly distributed. Gently fold in the mini marshmallows last — they’re delicate and you don’t want them to break down too much.
Scoop and space. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing about 2 inches apart. The marshmallows will puff and spread during baking.
Bake. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are golden and the centers look just set. The marshmallows will be lightly toasted. Do not overbake — these firm up significantly as they cool.
Cool on the pan. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. This gives the marshmallow time to settle so cookies don’t fall apart.

Nutrition (per serving)

Oatmeal S’more Cookies — The Holiday Party Cookie That Needs No Introduction