Thoughts of an Unsophisticated Baker

2 minutes in: “I need baking soda, but all I have is baking powder. Will it matter if I just use baking powder? What’s the difference, anyway? Also, does it matter if it’s three years old?”

4 minutes in: “This kitchen is a mess. I could swear it was clean two days ago.”

5 minutes in: “Is that rust on this cookie sheet? Are cookie sheets more prone to rust than other kitchen items? How do normal people keep their cookie sheets from rusting?”

7 minutes in: “Should I put this measuring cup in the sink or keep it out in case I need it again? I’ll need to rinse it off before using it for a different ingredient—I don’t want anything to get cross-contaminated. I can’t put it down on the counter, then it’ll get covered in germs. Was the drawer this came from even sanitary? Am I overly paranoid about cleanliness?”

10 minutes in: “I don’t want to use a paper towel only to throw it away, but I don’t want to have to wash a cloth towel...OK, seriously, which is more eco-friendly? Throwing away a paper towel or using the water to wash a cloth towel?”

12 minutes in: “Which is the bigger one, a tablespoon or a teaspoon?”

12.5 minutes in: “How come there’s a half teaspoon but no half tablespoon?”

14 minutes in: “Why does every cookie recipe have you add a tiny bit of salt? How important is the salt, really?”

15 minutes in: “Is it bad that I just use the first chocolate chip cookie recipe that comes up on Google? I feel like I should have a recipe that’s been handed down for centuries. Or at least a favorite one.”

18 minutes in: “I don’t have a one cup measuring scoop that’s clean, so I’m just gonna use this half cup scoop and double the number of scoops.”

20 minutes in: “I lost track of how many scoops of flour that was...I think it was six but it might have been five. Should I split the difference and add another half scoop? It’ll either be half a scoop too much or half a scoop too little, both of which would be fine. Probably.”

22 minutes in: “This dough is so dry...should I add water? More oil? I don’t want to mess with the recipe, but I really can’t mix it if it’s this dry...”

25 minutes in: “I cannot, for the life of me, scoop cookie dough into reasonably-shaped balls.”

26 minutes in: “That one doesn’t have enough chocolate chips...let me move some from over here.”

27 minutes in: “This lump of cookie dough is really weirdly shaped...hopefully it’ll get more cookie-shaped as it bakes. How do actual bakers make their cookies come out so round?”

28 minutes in: “How many cookies are you supposed to be able to fit on one cookie sheet? Aren’t they going to spread out in the oven?”

29 minutes in: “OK, they’re in the oven. Now the real treat—eating the cookie dough.”

29.5 minutes in: “Eh, the dough tastes pretty good, so the cookies should be fine.”

39 minutes in: “The recipe said to bake for ten minutes, but they still look pretty uncooked to me...”

54 minutes in: “It’s been twenty-five minutes, they’ve got to be done by now.”

55 minutes in: “There is not enough space to cool all of these cookies.”

58 minutes in: “Should it take me a whole hour to bake cookies?”

65 minutes in: “Well, they turned out a little weird, but they’ll do the trick.”