Snickers Cookies

January 2024. Winter in Memphis, 65 years old, and the cold has settled into the house on Deadrick Avenue the way cold settles into old bones — persistently, without malice, just the physics of aging and December. Rosetta has the thermostat set at 74, our eternal compromise, and I cook warming things: stews and soups and slow-braised meats that fill the house with steam and flavor.

Rosetta beside me through the week, steady as ever, the woman who runs this household with the precision of a hospital ward and the heart of a mother who has loved fiercely for 40 years of marriage. The BBQ class at the community center continues — students of all ages learning fire and smoke, and me learning that teaching is its own kind of cooking: you prepare, you present, you hope something sticks.

Baked beans on the smoker — navy beans soaked overnight, simmered with onion, brown sugar, molasses, mustard, and my BBQ sauce, then smoked uncovered at 250 for two hours. The hickory settles into the sauce and transforms ordinary beans into something that belongs at any table, any gathering, any moment when people need to be fed and comforted and reminded that simple food, made with patience, is the best food there is.

Another week in the book. Another seven days of tending fires — the one in the smoker, the one in the marriage, the one in the family, the one in the church. Each fire needs something different: wood, attention, food, faith. But the tending is the same for all of them: show up, add what's needed, wait patiently, trust the process. Low and slow. Always. Low and slow.

Rosetta doesn’t ask for much — she just shows up, steady and warm, the same way she has for forty years. After a week of smoky baked beans and slow fires and teaching strangers how to tend coals, I wanted to do something just for her, something sweet and a little indulgent that had nothing to do with hickory or low-and-slow. She’s got a weakness for Snickers bars, always has, so I turned that into a cookie — rich, chewy, and loaded with caramel and peanut and chocolate — because the people who keep your fires burning deserve something that feels like a reward.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp baking soda
1/2 tsp salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs
1 tsp pure vanilla extract
2 cups chopped Snickers bars (about 8 fun-size bars), roughly 1/2-inch pieces
1/2 cup semi-sweet chocolate chips (optional, for extra richness)

Instructions

Preheat and prep. Preheat 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 salt. Set aside.
Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with the granulated sugar and brown sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes.
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. Gradually add the flour mixture to the butter mixture, stirring until just incorporated — do not overmix.
Fold in the Snickers. Gently fold in the chopped Snickers pieces (and chocolate chips if using) with a wooden spoon or spatula, distributing them evenly throughout the dough.
Portion and bake. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Bake for 10–12 minutes, until the edges are just set and the centers look slightly underdone — they will firm up as they cool.
Cool. Let cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. The caramel in the Snickers pieces will be very hot straight from the oven, so give them time.

Nutrition (per serving)

Snickers Cookies — Something Sweet for the Hands That Tend the Fire