Snickerdoodle Blondies

October arriving and the light already different. I planted garlic this week, which I do every October — pressed into the soil in individual cloves, pointed end up, covered with mulch, left to establish their roots before winter. You won't see them until spring. Everything that has happened by spring starts in October in this garden, which is a thought that arrived with the garlic this year and which I found useful enough to write down.

CJ and Shanice brought Caleb for the weekend. He is walking so well now that the concern is no longer whether he can make it across a room but whether he knows which rooms he is permitted to walk into, which he does not yet reliably observe. He opened every cabinet in my kitchen on Saturday morning before I had even started the coffee. He knew exactly which ones held the pots and pans — the sound of them, the metal-on-metal when a lid shifts — and he sat on the kitchen floor and examined a small saucepan with the thoroughness of an engineer reviewing a new piece of equipment. I let him hold it. He is a Simms. He should know the equipment.

The third anniversary of CJ and Shanice's wedding is this weekend. I made them a caramel cake — by now this is the milestone cake, the one that marks the years of their marriage, and it will continue to be this cake for as many years as I can make it. Three years. A house, a child, a kitchen with a window over the sink. They are doing everything right. I am so proud I don't have adequate words for it, so I make caramel cake instead. The cake says it better than I can.

The caramel cake is already made and already eaten, and CJ and Shanice will not see this post until after the weekend, so I can say plainly: this is the kind of baking I do when words fall short. Snickerdoodle Blondies have that same quality — warm cinnamon, butter, that familiar sugar-and-spice finish — and they are the thing I make when I want to put something on the table that says I see you, I am proud of you, this day mattered. Caleb, in time, will know this kitchen by the smell of them baking as much as by the sound of the pots and pans.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 30 min | Total Time: 45 min | Servings: 16 bars

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon, divided
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1 3/4 cups packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
2 tablespoons granulated sugar

Instructions

Preheat and prepare. Heat your oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13-inch baking pan and line it with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on the long sides for easy lifting.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and 1/2 teaspoon of the cinnamon. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and brown sugar together until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then mix in the vanilla extract until fully combined.
Combine wet and dry. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and stir until just combined — do not overmix. The batter will be thick.
Spread the batter. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan and spread it into an even layer using a spatula or lightly dampened hands.
Top with cinnamon sugar. Stir together the granulated sugar and remaining 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon, then sprinkle the mixture evenly over the top of the batter.
Bake. Bake for 28–32 minutes, until the edges are set and golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs. Do not overbake — the center will firm as it cools.
Cool and cut. Let the blondies cool completely in the pan on a wire rack before lifting out and cutting into 16 bars.

Nutrition (per serving)

Snickerdoodle Blondies — The Cake Says It Better Than I Can