Peanut Better Cookies.

Can we just start with acknowledging the fucking awesomeness of the name of these cookies?

I mean at first I was like, how good damn arrogant are these cookies to think that they are “better”? I mean really, who the fuck do they think they are? To pronounce themselves above the other cookies? Like there’s some sort of cookie pedestal. I was getting out all worked up about it while I was getting out the ingredients. I was slamming things down on the kitchen counter while I was muttering under my breath about how up their own asses these cookies must be to think they’re “better”. I mean who did these pricks think they were? My kid came in when he heard the kitchen cupboards slamming and asked what was up. I sulkily pointed at the cookbook.

He looked happy when he saw we were making cookies, then a little confused as to why I was in a huff.

‘They think they’re better‘ I said sarcastically, making air quotes.

He was like “…um, we’re the ones who get to eat them, right? Then it’s good if they’re better isn’t it?”
I couldn’t fault his logic, so I shook off the irritation I was feeling, and decided to give peace cookies a chance.

You know what?
In all fairness, they’re deserving of the name.
Once my ego had been overcome, I recognised that my tastebuds – if they could – would bow down to the pedestal of these Peanut Better Cookies.
But not for the reasons you think.
Check it out.

If you don’t have your own copy of the cookbook yet, grab one here and cook or read along with me – I swear it’s like taking a cooking course – I feel like I’m learning heaps, and it would make an awesome gift for kitchen-novices and kitchen-pros alike! (I’m having a fuck-ton of fun cooking anyway. It’s a hoot in my kitchen, and the food coming out if it’s not bad either, you know what I’m saying?)

Okay, so I must confess to the first fuck up in this recipe.

It was all my son’s fault.

(No, not really, but it’s nice to have someone else to blame isn’t it? Why point fingers inwards, when you can point them outwards at others? #TakeNoResponsibility #KidsMakeGreatScapegoats #ItsLikeWhenYouFartAndYouSayItWasTheDog)

Did I mention I’m a Parenting Coach? Crazy right? Come work with me here.

Okay, so kiddo and I were in the kitchen, following the recipe, laughing, talking, joking; and I guess I wasn’t fully paying attention (my bad – not his) because rather than mix all the dry stuff together in one bowl, and then the wet stuff in another, I sort of threw it all together in one bowl (in the correct order though – just not in separate bowls first)

I’m not sure how much of a difference this made to the end result – because I am no chef, just a cookie-making amateur – but the batter was highly lickably-delicious.

Gooey peanut-buttery delicious batter.

It nearly didn’t make it to the oven. (Maybe they should be called peanut batter cookies.)
If you’re making these with kids make sure you let them lick the spoon.
Honestly. Do it. That’s the stuff childhood memories are made of.

The part I was looking forward to the most was the making the fork patterns on the cookies, because I remember doing that as a kid. I think the ones we used to make were called quick butter biscuits or something.

Try as I might, the fork pattern just wasn’t happening. Was this because I’d mixed the dough wrong? Or because I’d used gluten free flour instead of regular? Who knows.
I have to admit my inner child was a little disappointed.
But my real life child was looking at them and licking his lips in anticipation of eating these little fuckers.
So, into the oven they went.

While they were in the oven, we moved on to make dinner and it was getting late. There was still homework to do, and lunch packs to make.

We said we’d have a quick one out of the oven when they were done. But it was nearly time for bed, and we said we’d try them properly the next day together with the banana date shake, after school.

Banana Date Shakes

When my son came home from school we grabbed the ingredients to make the shakes. I’d chopped some bananas and thrown them in the freezer the night before, so we were all set.
While he packed away his school shit, I blended the hell outta the banana date shakes.
(By the way is it me or does that sound like something a drug addicted monkey would get during withdrawal? The banana date shakes? Withdrawal can be ugly my friends, if you need help coming off dates or other sugary addictive substances, contact your GP or local support group.)

My kid grabbed some plates, I grabbed the cookies and the book we’re reading right now (doing a 100 books in a year challenge) and we got comfy on the couch.

We took the first bite and sip.
What happened next happened in a brief moment, but it lasted a life time.
I was thrown back into some sort of childhood-comfort moment. Like an internal cookie-happy place.

When I’d woken up that morning I thought it was going to be a normal day, I didn’t realise it was going to be a cookie time travel day.

If you’ve watched the film Ratatouille with the little rat chef, you’ll know what I mean. The moment the food critic tastes the ratatouille he’s thrown back into childhood too. That’s how this felt, but not so much a specific moment, just a feeling. A happy, warm, full bellied, snuggled-up, and safe feeling. A loved feeling.

So I hugged my kid a little tighter on the sofa, appreciated the moment a little more, and started to read out loud from my book. (which by the way is a book I enjoyed reading when I was a kid too, so that just made it even better.)

I had the fleeting thought…These cookies bastards. They really are better.

As for flavour, these cookies were very peanut buttery, so if you like that sort of thing – perfecto. If you’re not a fan of the nut butter then what the fuck are you even making these for?! Get out!! What are you even doing here?! Find something else to eat. Maybe turn to page 158 in the book and try a slice of grapefruit cake instead, that’s a flavour bomb you won’t forget.

The drugged-up-monkey-shakes (aka Banana Date Shakes) were AMAZING too. So creamy and cold. Paired fucking majestically with the cookies. So beautiful. Like a really successful marriage between two total hotties with great personalities.
However, again, if you’re not into banana or cinnamon then this shit’s not for you. You know what you like. If you hate mushrooms don’t make a mushroom stew. If you despise chocolate don’t make double chocolate brownies. If you don’t like bananas or cinnamon, don’t make these shakes, unless you want to give yourself the topsy-turvy belly judders.
Don’t come crying to me if it’s too cinnamony for you, you should’ve left that spice at the back of your cupboard next to that five-spice that you never use either.
Step away and unsubscribe from the shit that you don’t like. Life’s too short dude.

But if you do like cinnamon and bananas as much as a twitching monkey – then make a double batch. Trust me. Your inner monkey will thank you.