I was going to name this post something like “My Mother’s Secret Balls” or “Real Domestiphobes Like Balls Any Time Of Year,” but I didn’t. Which I think it a true testament to how far I’ve come, maturity-wise, since that time I kept talking about nipples.
You know how I kind of sort of have a nasty habit of starting projects and never — ever — finishing them?
Like when I declared I was going to clean out the garage or organize my office or build storage for the master closet or decorate our bedroom?
Well.
I have news.
And try not to spit out your coffee when I tell you.
Here goes.
I’m actually making progress on two of those…
Valspar’s “Gypsy Teal”
Click photo for curtain panel source.
Click above photo for duvet cover source.
DIY Chalk Paint Dresser (tutorial coming soon)
Click above photo for reading lamp source.
Click above photo for more information about light fixture.
Closet and bedroom.
Also, I baked cookies. And I only ate like six. Or seven. The rest of these puppies are going to Afghanistan. Click photo for recipe.
Yep. That’s right. You only get the crappy Instagrammed sneak peek. Because between the painting and the decorating and the domesticating and the cold I’ve somehow managed to develop, I’m too tired and full of cookie dough to give you more.
Also, I still have some finishing touches I need to complete.
By the way — those of you all caught up in these various body cleansing diets that are currently all the rage, here’s a tip: Consuming exorbitant amounts of raw cookie dough will also do the trick.
Just so you know.
Back in what I like to call the “Golden Days,” when I could eat and eat and eat and never gain an ounce of body fat, back before I discovered wine and beer and the accompanying traces of cellulite that inevitably appear if I don’t pay a visit to Jillian within 24 hours of consumption, back when my butt stayed firm of its own accord, and back before the elves started forgetting to oil my joints at night – particularly in my left knee – which makes me feel like the oldest 28-year-old I know, I liked to bake.
A lot.
I rarely cooked, but boy did I bake. Cookies and cakes and brownies and bars… I felt comfortable baking because everything was precise. As long as I followed the directions, it was hard to mess up. And even when I did mess up, I could eat the mess and it was still tasty, if not pretty.
But now that I’m old enough to consume the empty calories found in alcohol, I try to limit my baking to events and special occasions, because let’s face it – I don’t need the extra calories tempting me while I’m in the house all day long.
Then I stumbled upon this recipe. This perfectly enticing, decadent, chocolaty recipe for double fudge Irish cream cookies that combines baking with alcohol – and not in a miniscule way – and I just had to make them on St. Patrick’s Day.
Because if a day when I’m allowed to pinch people if they aren’t wearing my favorite color isn’t a special occasion, I don’t know what is.
And I realized today that while I’ve been sitting on this recipe (and the extra layer of fat it’s undoubtedly formed on my derrière) for the past couple of weeks, I’m doing myself a disservice.
Because if I have to be fat from making and consuming ridiculously delicious desserts, so should you.
By the way, my photos of the finished product are horrible because I was too busy actually eating the cookies to worry about taking decent pictures. Luckily, Jessica at How Sweet it Is took some amazing photos of her own recipe, and she might give you some healthy recipes and fitness tips to make up for her irresponsible posting of these muy rico delicacies.
The good news is, I bet you can eat just one – they are super rich.
To make them, you will need:
1. Cream the softened butter, eggs and vanilla with a wooden spoon until fluffy. I’m pretty adamant about the wooden spoon thing. Sure, you could pull out your fancy, schmancy industrial mixer, but we’re making cookies, people. Cookies should be made like our mothers and grandmothers made ’em.
With love and good old-fashioned elbow grease.
Except not real elbow grease, because that would be gross.
And who has greasy elbows, anyway? If anything, mine tend to get quite dry. If I’m not careful, I’ll end up with “ashy elbows” ala Tyra Banks and I don’t know anyone who wants to look like her.
2. Add the Bailey’s and mix it in, one tablespoon at a time.
Now. If you’re a dough-eater like me, you might think this tastes a little… strong. But stick with me, here. The taste of Bailey’s gets much subtler after the cookies bake.
And yes, I know eating dough with raw egg is bad. But it’s bad in such a good way, you know?
3. Add the flour, cocoa powder, instant coffee (I crumbled mine up in the package a bit first), baking soda, and salt to the bowl.
Mix everything (again, with a wooden spoon – it’s imperative) until combined.
Be careful with the cocoa powder if you’re an enthusiastic mixer, like me. It’s a bitch to get out of clothes. Especially white shorts. Seriously? Who cooks in white shorts?
4. Fold in the white and milk chocolate chips, then cover the bowl and refrigerate the dough for 4-6 hours (I actually refrigerated overnight, and it was still fairly sticky to work with).
5. When you’re ready to bake, preheat your oven to 350-degrees F. Use your hands to roll the dough into balls. I like my balls fairly big (tee-hee). Bake the balls on an ungreased baking sheet for 8-10 minutes. Since my balls were fairly big (tee-hee), my first batch came out slightly under-baked.
I thought that was perfectly fine.
These cookies are moist, with almost a creamy, buttery center, ultra rich and decadent.
Jessica recommends eating these with a glass of Bailey’s, but the richness for me almost requires a glass of cold milk.
Indulgence doesn’t get much better than this.
