Yesterday, after two days of collecting ingredients from various grocery stores, I baked some chocolate chip cookies. It was quite an adventure.
Member of the millennial generation that I am, I documented the experience with my social media accounts. So, dear parents, grandparents, and friends who do not participate in Twitter and Instagram, here is what happened:
Chocolate chip cookie baking in Germany. | Step one: let the block of butter soften on a sunny windowsill.
Compare and sample the two barbaric alternatives to impossible-to-find chocolate chips. Decide they’re passable.
Throw the rest of the ingredients on the counter before you have the chance to wonder any longer if all those German words mean what you think they do.
Spend 20 minutes hacking at baking chocolate with a dull knife and muttering about chocolate chips.
At first I thought the butter was rancid. But then I looked at my innocent, little bag of sugar.
Taste the butter and sugar mixture and discover the loud, citrusy overtones of gelatin sugar for canning. Employ tablespoons of vanillin sugar as an antidote.
A bag of sugar shouldn’t have an ingredients list. This one did:
“Zucker, Geliermittel Pektine, Säuerungsmittel Citronensäure, Konservierungsstoff Sorbinsäure”
Taste the mutant, citrusy dough you’ve created. Add vanillin sugar. Repeat. Again. Don’t let the flatmates see you grimace.
The equivalent of several tablespoons of vanilla extract, an oven tutorial from one of the flatmates, some Celsius-to-Fahrenheit calculations, a temperature adjustment or two, and three rounds of baking later: speckled chocolate chunk cookies.
Against all odds, place a plate piled high with sweet success – baked at 185° Celsius – on the kitchen table and watch them disappear.
They were chewy; there was not even the slightest hint of citrus tang; and they were gone in 18 hours. The end.