I’m a goofy gal and I own it. It took me a long time to get comfortable with my quirks since they barred me from the cool kid cliques of high school and then the adult circles of the professional and socially elite. Or, even regular people for that matter. But sometime in my mid 30s I realized that I didn’t care anymore. I am who I am. Like me or don’t. At the end of the day, all that matters is that I live authentically, stay true to my moral code, and love the people in my life. Screw those who can’t handle me in all my idiosyncratic glory.
How does this pertain to baking, you may ask? It pops up in different ways; most are fairly innocuous. For example, I’m a little superstitious about throwing away paper copies of recipes, even if I love them and have them memorized, or had terrible results and would never use it again. I often talk to my batter or dough, coaxing it along and whispering sweet (or savory) nothings to it. I have a problem letting stuff cool on the sheet or in the pan. I have to seriously distract myself for the time required or I’ll go crazy. Sometimes I have to get out of the kitchen or play a game on my phone. I just want to get in there and touch that steaming hot banana bread. Why? I don’t know. Probably because I enjoy burning my hands and having the bread cave in on itself.
But in today’s example, I did a baking thing just because it sounded like fun. Well, that and I wanted to see if I could make a yummy version of one of my favorite commercial snacks. It was a blast, and they were totally nom! Nom! NOM!
Oatmeal Cream Pies
If you’ve been following my blog for a bit, you may remember my post The Case of the Unbaked Whoopie Pies. I had a fabulous adventure making chocolate whoopie pies for the first time, and in it I mentioned my long-time love of oatmeal cream pies. I can’t buy the boxes of 12 anymore because I can eat them in three sittings. But lucky me, my grocery store had some individually packaged ones they stocked just for me. I swiped one to enjoy with my afternoon coffee.
Later when I opened the package, I took a good look at the round sugary specimen. I was like, “I can do this! Why haven’t I done this? I made the Whoopie pies. I am the Cookie Queen of the galaxy! Hear me roar, but not too loud because Brian (my hubby) is still working.” Yes, I said all those things to myself.
It just so happened that I’d recently tried out a new oatmeal cookie recipe that was perfect for this project. It was actually just the one on the back of the Kroger oats container. How strangely awesome is that?! The only thing I did was mince the walnuts so the texture wouldn’t be weird for the pies.
I pulled up the Whoopie Pie recipe and made a batch of that same filling. Then I assembled the the oatmeal cookies with the filling in the same way, gently squishing them together to make them stick. There wasn’t enough filling for all the cookies. I had the same problem with the chocolate batch. I anticipated this but didn’t make a double batch of goo because I wanted some plain cookies on the side. If you are looking to make all pies of all the cookies, definitely double the filling.
Where I really had fun, and where the ‘me’ really came out, was in the cookie labels. I cracked myself up the whole time I was designing them. Whether or not they’re funny to the rest of the world doesn’t matter to me, although I was pleased my sister laughed. (We share DNA so it stands to reason that we’d also share weirdness.) I individually bagged the treats and then added my little sassy labels. I actually might make it a thing and just change up the name. I like the tagline.
In conclusion, I made these Oatmeal Cookie Sandwich Things with Creamy Goo just because I wanted to. Generally I have an external force that propels to bake, even if it’s just to have baked goods at the ready in case a friend pops over. This time, however, it was purely to tickle my fancy. I had fun with the whole project, from buying the Little Debbie, to eating the cookie dough, to smearing icing, and finally sending them out to friends and family. It’s a little quirky that I dissected the Little Debbie to see how the creme was deposited, but that’s okay. I’m okay with being me, cookies and all.