My Big Fat Chocolate Chip Cookies

I can’t even talk (or write) about these cookies without feeling a borderline unhealthy rush of sweet, sweet excitement – they’re that good. Big, buttery, ridiculously soft with flakes of sea salt and fat (phat feels more appropriate) chocolate chip chunks hitting you with every bite. I’m talking a full blown religious experience here.

Post wedding I was ready to dive face first into anything that wasn’t hard boiled eggs or chicken breasts, and boy did I ever. It’s a miracle my pants still fit. Thank you Soul Cycle. Back story: I was gifted with the insanely bougie and beautiful copper colored Kitchen aid from my sweet mother-in-law at my bridal shower – which means I waited months to take this bad boy of it’s maiden voyage, because I’d convinced myself that absolutely nothing wedding diet approved could be made in it. What better way to break it in than with the best chocolate chip cookies? I saw it (her? him? I need time) sitting on our counter when we got home from our mini-moon in all of it’s coppery glory and knew right then and there, it was on and poppin’.

In true Olivia fashion, I threw myself all in to the idea of making chocolate chip cookies, I’m talking full blown research mode. I should be clear, I’m not a baker – even though I desperately want to be.My mom’s a baker. She’s effortlessly good at it, and really, everything else she does. My grandma was a baker, specifically a pie baker. I come from a long line of bakers, and then..there’s me. Not a baker. In fact, I’m known for reading the strictest of recipes (as baking often goes, turns out there isn’t a ton of wiggle room of those measurements) and altering it, then wondering why it wasn’t Instagram worthy perfection. This time, I wanted to do it right. And while there is nothing wrong with the Nestle roll (and I have 15 lbs from college that will attest to that) I wanted to do some serious mixing, some serious measuring, and some serious baking. So I did. I googled, I pinned, I rounded up recipes from talented friends/my mom and set out to bake the ultimate chocolate chip cookie. As I waited for my butter to reach ‘room temperature’ (already leaps and bounds ahead of my usual baking strategy: deciding on a whim I wanted cookies, then microwaving cold butter with fury until it was way past ‘room temp’) I stumbled upon the holy grail of cookie recipes. Described as ‘thick, buttery, soft: sweet with a pinch of salty’ – all words I’d use to describe myself and my ideal cookieJackpot. Meet my latest obsession. I was strict, I was laser-focused, I was committed. I was gonna nail these cookies.

And I did. Oh God, did I ever. They came out gorgeous, fluffy, pale, and oh so perfect. Keevin, the sudden newly appointed under cooked cookie sheriff (and my new husband!) immediately announced that though they smelled like heaven, they were not done. I gave him this look and informed him I was in fact, following the directions that told me to bake these babes for 9 minutes, then let them cool for 30. I know. I know. But seriously, somehow pulling these puffy pillows of goodness out slightly under cooked (per the recipe) then letting them cool on the baking sheet for a good (longest of my life) 30 minutes allowed them to shape shift into the most magical, gigantic, buttery, chewy, heavenly cookies. MAKE THEM NOW! I’m serious. I’ve made them roughly 8 more times since this (in a two week period…did I mention I get really into things?) and every single person who has tried them has asked me to marry them. It’s actually getting kind of weird. Kidding. MAKE THEM!

Final thoughts: I am now a firm believer that melted butter is the answer. I will also say that I’ve noticed people go bat shit crazy for cookies that are BIG so if you fall into that category, I would invest in an large ice cream scoop to dish out that dough in nice, uniform, gigantic ole balls. Haha. That’s fun. Anyways, I will say that I’ve tried tweaking this recipe by browning the butter first, adding toffee chips, and chilling the dough – none of these batches came close to the original. You’ve got a good thing going there, Pinch of Yum.