I modified the recipe for Vanishing Oatmeal Raisin Cookies available on the Quaker Oats website (modifications are bolded for your easy reference).
Ingredients
8 tablespoons vegetable shortening
3/4 cup firmly packed light brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
0 teaspoons baking soda (yeah, I'll get to that)
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)
3 cups Quaker® Oats (quick, uncooked)
1 cup dried cranberries
The (Just Shrug It Off and Go With It) Process
1. Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, beat butter and sugars on medium speed of electric mixer until creamy.
Okay, so it got interesting right from the beginning, when I realized that A) I never got around to buying an appropriately sized mixing bowl, and B) I'm pretty sure this isn't the kind of electric mixer the recipe would prefer:
2. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda**, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats and raisins; mix well.
In regards to the bowl, I found two medium-sized bowls that I thought would work. Silly me, though, I wasn't thinking about how to actually combine the two:
Lacking any better options, I opted to go with the crock from the crock pot. At least everything fit!
Okay, so it got interesting right from the beginning, when I realized that A) I never got around to buying an appropriately sized mixing bowl, and B) I'm pretty sure this isn't the kind of electric mixer the recipe would prefer:
2. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda**, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats and raisins; mix well.
In regards to the bowl, I found two medium-sized bowls that I thought would work. Silly me, though, I wasn't thinking about how to actually combine the two:
Lacking any better options, I opted to go with the crock from the crock pot. At least everything fit!
**Yeah, so about the baking soda. Probably because I kept thinking about it before going to the grocery store, which Murphy's Law tells us is a great way to forget something, I forgot to buy it. Combine that with a massive food coma courtesy of Best Boyfriend taking me for sushi to celebrate my new job and total exhaustion from dog-related drama all night (side note: for reasons completely unrelated to the cookie project, Molly now smells of oatmeal cookies rather than muddy garbage. Gracias, PetSmart), and you get my complete and total reluctance to go back to the grocery store for one measly ingredient. Yes, I opted to wing it. Let's see how this plays out, shall we?
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.
Easy enough. I chose to make rounded balls by hand.
3. Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets.
Easy enough. I chose to make rounded balls by hand.
4. Bake 14 - 15 minutes or until light golden brown. Cool 1 minute on cookie sheets; remove to wire rack. Cool completely. Store tightly covered.
At this point, the kitchen smells divine. I'm totally psyched to watch the doughy mounds melt and bubble and brown through the oven window. The original 8 minutes suggested by the recipe passes, and... wait a minute. From what I can tell, they're still doughy balls. I checked again after I typed that, and yes, not one of the cookies melted or flattened out even a little. And before you get all smart-alecky on me, yes, the oven is on, and yes, it's the right temperature. I checked that too, because believe you me, it's not outside the realm of possibility for me to have forgotten something like that at this stage of the game. I add minutes (six, to be precise), and still, nothing but goldeny brown, warmed oatmeal cranberry balls. I guess we'll just have to wait for the taste test.
So, while the cookies are cooling, I did a bit of internet research. I really, really, want to know at which point I simply compromised too much. Betty Crocker offers this great cookie FAQ which I've bookmarked for future cookie-project reference. I've diagnosed my problem as under-hyderated dough, a problem that will be easily solved in the future. I've discovered (alas, too late for this round) that using shortening instead of margarine or butter requires the addition of water, as illustrated right there on the packaging by the helpful folks at Crisco. Silly me, I didn't realize that my butter-substitute came with a recipe of its own...
The thing is, they really don't taste all that bad. A bit on the dry side, but not unpleasantly so, and unnoticeable when accompanied by a sip of milk. What a relief.
Day one is officially a success.
(made 61 cookies)
At this point, the kitchen smells divine. I'm totally psyched to watch the doughy mounds melt and bubble and brown through the oven window. The original 8 minutes suggested by the recipe passes, and... wait a minute. From what I can tell, they're still doughy balls. I checked again after I typed that, and yes, not one of the cookies melted or flattened out even a little. And before you get all smart-alecky on me, yes, the oven is on, and yes, it's the right temperature. I checked that too, because believe you me, it's not outside the realm of possibility for me to have forgotten something like that at this stage of the game. I add minutes (six, to be precise), and still, nothing but goldeny brown, warmed oatmeal cranberry balls. I guess we'll just have to wait for the taste test.
So, while the cookies are cooling, I did a bit of internet research. I really, really, want to know at which point I simply compromised too much. Betty Crocker offers this great cookie FAQ which I've bookmarked for future cookie-project reference. I've diagnosed my problem as under-hyderated dough, a problem that will be easily solved in the future. I've discovered (alas, too late for this round) that using shortening instead of margarine or butter requires the addition of water, as illustrated right there on the packaging by the helpful folks at Crisco. Silly me, I didn't realize that my butter-substitute came with a recipe of its own...
The thing is, they really don't taste all that bad. A bit on the dry side, but not unpleasantly so, and unnoticeable when accompanied by a sip of milk. What a relief.
Day one is officially a success.
(made 61 cookies)
