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Cookies!

Last year, as much as I remember, I baked none. We moved into our home a week before Christmas and there was no time to do anything other than unpack some boxes, buy a tree and decorate it. This year, however, I decided to bake some. Originally, I wasn't going to do it either, but...

I guess I just had to? I started out with my favourit, traditional honey cookies. The recipe is from a forum I frequent and I've been making these for years. Or, well, my own version of it: wholegrain flour and no sugar at all. Derek says they are not food. I say he is not someone to listen to. He eats only creamy desserts, for the most part, and high-end chocolates. So who cares about him. They're only 70 calories a piece so I can indulge. Every once in a while, at least.

Here are my babies (okay, Grandma Ana's babies):

Then I tried something new. These guys are pretty damn famous and everyone and their uncle and aunt and mother makes them. I had to try it out, too, I suppose.  Man, did the house smell good as they were cracking up in the oven! Yup, they crack up, literally: before you bake them, all you've got are white fuzzy balls. No big adjustments made, here, other than swapping white flour for 100% wholegrain. At 63 calories a piece, these are, for now, the winners. I haven't tried any yet, though, because it's pretty late and I am very scared of coffee. (Yes, I am just that weird.)

Another experiment were marble-cookies, found on a famous Croatian recipe site and recommended by a friend of mine. They looked cool and easy to make so I baked them, too. These little guys are fatty and high-calorie: about 110 a piece and they are by far the smallest! Ouch. I have to admit that I followed the recipe, except when I poured in some insanely good orange extract and (surprising, huh?) swapped some white flour with wholegrain. The majority of it is still white. Somehow.

And, finally, here's my epic fail. I've been working on these for years and every single time I make them, I fail. Miserably. First I ca't roll the dough because it's too sticky. Then I add flour, likely way too much of it, and the whole thing crumbles into dust. Then I bitch an swear a lot and hate the whole world for at least a while. Eventually I beat them into submission and cut the shapes. Somehow. They break. I still bake them. Whatever wasn't broken before the oven, crumbles when taken out. The remaining pieces shatter as I put marmelade between them. I eat a few. Throw out a few. Hate the world.

...and then start all over again about a year later.

So here they are. My epic fail, which I promise I will master... someday. Yup.

With two of these baked Sunday afternoon and the other two tonight (after work AND a gym session, too!), I still have enough time for a few more experiments. Woohoo. Considering my calorie restricted diet, I sure am getting a lot of kick out of something I pretty much won't even eat. But that's fine. I've always been slightly masochistic, anyway.

P.S. That's not dirt. It's cocoa, stuck under my nails.