Mookies

So. Last night we decided to make some cookies. Rob thinks I have some kind of magical cookie making abilities, because last time he made cookies they turned out completely flat, like sheet cake flat, and then I made them and they turned out fine. Between you and I, I have no cookie making abiilities whatsoever. I use the recipe off the back of the chocolate chip bag.
Anyways, we get to making them, and we pull them out of the oven...and they're flat. WTF. Maybe there's a problem with my baking soda. We never really throw anything out, and as I was opening a can of beans a few weeks ago, I noticed that it was a brand that was sold at this place in New York where we used to grocery shop. Which means that we hauled that can of beans back here from New York, which makes it at least 2.5 years old. It is entirely possible that this is the case with the baking soda as well.
We sit there and stare at our flat cookies and Rob gets this *brilliant* idea. You're going to need to provide your own visual on this one. Please imagine a little kid on Christmas morning. I hate this stupid phrase, but really, his eyes are like.. shining.
Rob wants to put the cookie batter into a muffin pan. That way, they won't be flat anymore. Muffin cookies.
"So, Mookies?" I say.
So we do it. We put the batter in, put it in for the regular amount of time, voila.
Then things take a turn for the worse.
I don't know about you, but whenever I take muffins out of the oven, I like to turn the pan upside down and let the muffins fall out. There's something really satisfying about bouncing muffins. So I do that.
But it seems that mookies take a little longer to cook than regular cookies. At that point, they were still creme-filled mookies. So I've got a pan full of centerless mookies, and my counter is covered in cookie batter. Which I think is hilarious. I would say I get a kick out of about 90% of the crap I screw up.
So I turn to Rob, laughing.

It becomes clear at this point that I grossly underestimated just how excited Rob was about the mookies. I think maybe he really thought he was on to some kind of culinary revolution here. Like our ship had finally come in, and it was the S.S. Mookie.

Rob is PISSED.

WHY DIDNT YOU CHECK THEM BEFORE YOU DID THAT???

I can't help it, I'm still laughing. Rob is not. There is mookie everywhere.

Eventually, he realizes that he's yelling at me about cookies in a muffin pan and gets over it. Then we try the mookie remains and they're gross. Like cake gone wrong.

And the moral of the story is don't count your mookies before they hatch. And don't haul baking soda around for five years.