← Back to Blog

Soft and Chewy Drop Sugar Cookies -- The Snickerdoodles I Keep in the Freezer for When My Hands Are Already Full

The Relief Society did a service project Saturday — assembling hygiene kits for the refugee resettlement program in Salt Lake. I signed up because Sister Thompson asked me directly and I have never in my life been able to say no to a direct ask from a Relief Society president, which is a character flaw disguised as a virtue, which is basically the motto of my entire personality.

I brought the kids because Brandon had a Saturday meeting and my mother was at a temple session, and so I showed up to the church cultural hall with five children and a gallon bag of frozen snickerdoodle cookie dough balls, because I have learned that the price of admission to any LDS gathering is baked goods, and I refuse to arrive empty-handed even when my hands are already full of children. The cookie dough was from last month's batch — I'd frozen them on a sheet pan, transferred to a bag, and labeled it. Thirty-six dough balls. Three hundred and fifty degrees for eleven minutes. I baked them in the church kitchen while Mason and Lily ran laps around the gym and Noah destroyed a stack of paper towels with the joyful efficiency of a two-year-old who has found his calling.

Sister Jenson sat next to me during the assembly. She's seventy-two, has buried a husband and a son, and is the only person in the ward who has never once said "Heavenly Father has a plan" to my face. She said, "Your cookies are good." I said thank you. She said, "Gary's girl makes good cookies." I almost lost it right there over a tray of snickerdoodles, because my father's name in someone else's mouth — the casual way she connected me to him, like I was still that girl — cracked something open. I didn't cry. I bit the inside of my cheek and assembled hygiene kits and thought about Dad at the bishop's storehouse, filling bags, feeding families, and how I am doing some version of the same thing with a chest freezer and a legal pad, and maybe that's genetic. Maybe the need to fill things — shelves, bags, freezers, bellies — is something the Coopers pass down like eye color.

Olivia helped with the kits. She was meticulous — toothbrush here, soap there, washcloth folded in thirds. She's nine and already assembles things with the precision of someone who believes that if everything is in its right place, nothing bad can happen. I recognize that belief. I held it for thirty-three years. I want to tell her it's not true. I want to let her keep it as long as she can. Both of these are love. I haven't figured out which one to choose.

After an afternoon of folding washcloths into thirds and watching Olivia arrange hygiene kits with her quiet, careful hands, I needed to make something that didn—t require precision or belief—something that would just work. Drop sugar cookies are exactly that: soft, forgiving, no rolling pin, no cookie cutter, no faith that everything has to be in its right place. I made a double batch, froze most of them, and felt, for a few hours, like filling things was enough.

Soft and Chewy Drop Sugar Cookies (Freezer-Ready Snickerdoodle Style)

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 11 min per batch | Total Time: 35 min | Servings: 36 cookies

Ingredients

  • 2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 teaspoon baking soda
  • 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
  • 1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar
  • 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
  • 1 1/2 cups granulated sugar, divided
  • 2 large eggs
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
  • 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon (for rolling)

Instructions

  1. Whisk the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder, cream of tartar, and salt. Set aside.
  2. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat butter and 1 1/4 cups of the granulated sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes.
  3. Add eggs and vanilla. Add eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition. Mix in vanilla extract.
  4. Combine wet and dry. Add the flour mixture to the butter mixture and stir until just combined — do not overmix.
  5. Prepare the cinnamon sugar. In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1/4 cup sugar with 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon and stir to mix.
  6. Portion the dough. Scoop dough into 1 1/2-tablespoon balls (a #40 cookie scoop works perfectly for 36 uniform balls). Roll each ball in the cinnamon sugar mixture to coat.
  7. Freeze for make-ahead batches. Arrange coated dough balls in a single layer on a parchment-lined sheet pan. Freeze uncovered for 1 to 2 hours until solid, then transfer to a labeled zip-top gallon bag. Freeze up to 3 months. Note the date and write “350°F, 11 min” on the bag — you will thank yourself later.
  8. Bake fresh or from frozen. When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350°F. Arrange dough balls 2 inches apart on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Bake fresh dough 10 to 11 minutes; bake from frozen 12 to 13 minutes. Cookies are done when edges are just set and centers look slightly underdone — they will firm up as they cool.
  9. Cool and serve. Let cookies cool on the pan for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack. Serve warm or at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 5g | Carbs: 17g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 72mg

Michelle Larson
About the cook who shared this
Michelle Larson
Week 26 of Michelle’s 30-year story · Provo, Utah
Michelle is a forty-four-year-old mom of six in Provo, Utah, a former accountant who traded spreadsheets for freezer meal prep and never looked back. She is LDS, organized to a fault, and can fill a chest freezer with sixty labeled meals in a single Sunday afternoon. She lost her second baby to SIDS and carries that grief in everything she does — including the way she feeds her family, which she does with a precision and devotion that borders on sacred.

How Would You Spin It?

Put your own twist on this recipe — what would you add, remove, or swap?