Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

a small-ish batch recipe

originally published March 2011 {recipe retested February 2024}

I scaled the subway steps and realized the timing was perfect. It was just about 11:30am, and if I quickened my pace, I could catch the last few minutes of recess at Isabella's school.

Kids treat it as a big event when mommy shows up unexpectedly. One by one her friends came running to the chain link fence, held back by the boundaries of safety. A little boy, named Liam, asked if I was looking for Isabella, then went running off to find her.

In the midst of this, the whistle bellowed from the lunch lady's mouth. I've heard a lot about their fierceness, running the cafeteria with an iron-fist, and I certainly didn't want to get any kids in trouble. Still, they came bounding over, and to each friend, I said "please tell Isabella her mommy said hello". To her very best girlfriends, I even asked if they could pass on a hug and kiss for me.

My eyes scanned the schoolyard, but the little girl whose voice can usually be heard blocks away, was nowhere to be found. My heart dropped a little bit, as I turned to walk the few blocks home.

Then I turned back for one last look, and through the crowded yard, looking disheveled and ragamuffin-like, our eyes caught. As everyone lined up, my sweet little girl ran over, shoved a hand through the fence and I kissed it. Worried she'd get into hot water with the lunch ladies, I blew what felt like a million kisses, and sent her on her way with a few "I love you's" too. She sauntered inside, all giggles with her girlfriends, and I was ready to get on with my workday.

As I walked down First Place, I had a flashback to warm oatmeal raisin cookies. They were my favorite when I was just about her age. They're still capable of making me drink an icy glass of milk too.

My parents had friends that owned a candy store in Little Italy, and I remember we'd stop at a nearby bakery that sowed the seeds for my love of oatmeal raisin cookies. I've measured all other cookies of the type on them, and most have fallen short.

So, when you want the job done, this is an instance where it's best to do it yourself. These cookies strike the perfect balance where the outer edge has a crunchy bite, with a hidden chewy texture as you near the center.

Sometimes I feel like my life exists in a narrow box, my dreams struggling to break free into fruition. All it takes is a day like this to realize, my job as mommy is one with benefits no dream job can ever match. Where else can I have fresh-baked cookies and butterfly kisses all in a day's work?