Salted Chocolate Chip Cookies

Father's Day. Reynaldo Father's Day. I made salmon sinigang — the recipe he invented. The ritual since 2009 — the first one after his death — when I was twenty and could barely cook and made the soup wrong and ate it anyway. I made it correctly this year. The extra squeeze of tamarind. I called Mark and Joseph. The Reynaldo was in the conversation without being named. The naming would have been too much.

Lourdes is 76. She is slower. She still cooks. She still tells me to find a husband even though I have one. Joseph called from Kodiak Sunday. The fishing is good. The boats are running. He is fine.

I made lumpia Saturday. Sixty rolls. I delivered some to Lourdes. The rest went into the freezer for the week.

The blog has four hundred subscribers now who get the posts via email. The subscribers are the loyal core. The loyal core is the chorus.

Angela came over Saturday with the kids. We cooked. We argued about pancit proportions — she uses more soy, I use more calamansi. We are both wrong, according to Lourdes.

I called Lourdes Sunday night. The call was the call. The call was always the call.

The Anchorage sky was the Anchorage sky. The mountains were the mountains. The inlet was the inlet. The geography was the geography.

I sat on the balcony in the cold for ten minutes Sunday night with a cup of broth in my hands. The cold was the cold. The broth was the broth. The body held both.

Auntie Norma called Sunday afternoon. She is now seventy-nine. She wanted a recipe. I gave it to her. She wanted to know how my week was. I told her, briefly. She told me about her week. The exchange took eighteen minutes. The eighteen minutes was the keeping.

A blog reader sent me a photograph of her grandmother's wooden mortar and pestle, used since 1962. The photograph was holy. I wrote her back. The writing back is the work.

I drove the Glenn Highway out to Eklutna on Saturday. The mountains were the mountains. The lake was the lake. The body needed the open road. The open road did its work.

Pete and I had a long phone conversation Tuesday. We talked about the family — his and mine. The talking was the keeping.

I cleaned the kitchen Sunday afternoon. I wiped the stove. I scrubbed the sink. I reorganized the spice cabinet. The cleaning was the small reset. The reset was the marker. The marker said: the week is over, the next week begins, the kitchen is ready.

I read a chapter of a novel before bed each night this week. The novel was about a Filipina nurse in California. The novel was good. The novel was, in some way, my own life adjacent.

The therapy session this month was about pacing. Dr. Reeves said, "Grace. The pacing is the love for the future self." I am working on the pacing. The pacing is harder than the loving.

The salmon in the freezer is from August. Joseph's catch. The bag is labeled in his handwriting — "for Grace." I will use it next week.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced the Saturday gathering. I will be on lumpia duty. I am always on lumpia duty.

The Filipino Community newsletter announced a fundraiser for typhoon relief in Samar. I committed to making three hundred lumpia. The number is the number. The number has always been the number. Three hundred is what I make. The math has stopped surprising me.

The grocery store had no calamansi. I substituted lime. The substitution was acceptable. The acceptable is the working version of perfect.

The three hundred lumpia for the Samar fundraiser are still weeks away, and the sixty from Saturday are already wrapped and frozen — so this week, I made something that was only for me. No delivery, no duty roster, no count. Salted chocolate chip cookies are what I reach for when the big batch cooking is done and the kitchen is clean and I want something warm that doesn’t carry the weight of occasion. The salt on top is the thing. It is, like most small precise gestures, the difference between eating and tasting.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1 tsp fine sea salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 to 1 1/2 tsp flaky sea salt (such as Maldon), for finishing

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 375°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
Mix dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and fine sea salt. 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 pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then add the vanilla extract. Mix until fully combined and smooth.
Combine wet and dry. Reduce mixer speed to low and add the flour mixture in two additions, mixing just until no dry streaks remain. Do not overmix.
Fold in chocolate chips. Using a spatula or wooden spoon, fold in the chocolate chips until evenly distributed.
Rest the dough. Let the dough rest at room temperature for 15 minutes. This step relaxes the gluten and gives the cookies better texture.
Portion and top. Scoop dough by rounded tablespoons (about 1 1/2 inches) onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing 2 inches apart. Press 3 or 4 extra chocolate chips onto the tops if you like, then finish each ball with a small pinch of flaky salt.
Bake. Bake one sheet at a time on the center rack for 10 to 12 minutes, until the edges are set and golden but the centers still look slightly underdone. They will firm as they cool.
Cool on the pan. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. The centers will finish setting during this time. Eat one warm. That is the rule.

Nutrition (per serving)

Salted Chocolate Chip Cookies — What I Make When the Lumpia Is Already Done