Leftoverist Leap of Faith Cookies

2010 here we come

I saw my friend Dawn at the gym this morning, who told me she's had cookies on the brain lately because of this blog.  She's too nice to curse me, but huffing and puffing at 5:45 a.m. was punishment enough.  Sorry, Dawn.  More cookies.

But there's more to this story.  1) These are for the fire station.  I don't know about the rest of them, but Yancey's been burning the calories like nobody's business.  Even if their call volume is light, probationary firefighters aren't supposed to stand around.  He is busy every second.  And 2) I'm celebrating.  Maybe this celebration is premature, but I've never been good about keeping secrets or waiting for the Big Reveal.

No, I'm not pregnant.  I wouldn't be making cookies if that were the case--I'd be crying in my pillow and calling the bank to refinance.  I do feel like something is about to be born, though.  After nine months of mucking around, I thought I had decided to go out and find a full-time organization development job--be an internal consultant somewhere.  I was willing to do that, but then started viewing everything through the "I'm-about-to-be-gone-from-my-kids-50-hours-per-week" lens.  I got really sad--no more meeting Wyatt at the bus stop; no more Friday mornings at Macrina with Loretta and Milo or volunteering in Wyatt's classroom; no more keeping up with laundry (almost) or eating dinner at 6:00.

Helped along by my friend and mentor Kathy, here's my leap of faith:   I'm going to refocus my consultation practice, get serious, and really invest in it.  I know I haven't done this yet for a couple reasons.  For one, I just wasn't ready--I needed to explore some, flounder a little, figure out what I really cared about.  Even more, though, I was afraid of failure.  If I really claim something, articulate it, put it out there, people will have expectations.  And what if I can't fulfill them?  What if I can't deliver?

My friend Scott said something last week that was timely and incisive.  He said we normally think we can't risk until we trust. But it's really the other way around--we can't trust until we risk, until there's nothing left to do but trust.  When we've leapt off the cliff already, we can't be stitching up a net and worrying about whether or not it will catch and hold us.  We just have to trust the net will appear--we're not in control anymore.

I'm excited, nervous, a little bashful, and aware that there is a lot of work to do and many more leaps to take. But I haven't had this much peace in a long time.  Maybe it's the calm before the storm, but I'll take it.

leap of faith cookies

These cookies are something I made up--sort of--this afternoon.  In NYC, Bethany and I had David Chang's "Compost Cookies," made with pretzels, coffee grounds, potato chips, chocolate chips, and oats.  They were good, but I knew I could make something better.   (Don't worry, David--you still kick my ass in every other cooking venture.)  I started with the same base as My Mom's Chocolate Chip Cookies, and threw everything else in from there.  A culinary leap of faith that payed off.

Wyatt had one after dinner, chewing contentedly, an occasional grunt of satisfaction.  He lost another tooth today and ran off the bus to tell me about it.  I know I can't be there every day for those moments, but it's looking like I won't miss all of them.  It feels good to be caught.

Leftoverist Leap of Faith Cookies
Makes two dozen.  You can take your own leap of faith with these cookies, experimenting with other things like corn flakes, potato chips, dried fruit, other kinds of nuts or baking chips.

1 1/2 c. flour
1 c. oats
1 c. brown sugar
1/2 c. white sugar
1 ts. salt
1 ts. soda
1 egg + 1 egg yolk
2 cubes (1 c.) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1/2 c. granola
1 1/2  c. pretzel twists, coarsely broken
1 c. whole raw cashews
1 c. butterscotch chips
1 c. chocolate chips

Combine flour, oats, sugars, salt and soda in a large bowl.

Add eggs, melted butter, and all other ingredients.  Gently stir until everything is just combined.  Refrigerate dough for at least 30 minutes.

Preheat oven to 375.  Drop refrigerated dough by Tablespoons onto a parchment-covered cookie sheet and bake until just set, about 10 minutes.  Remove from oven and let cool to room temperature before removing from the baking sheet.