Friday I forgot to bring my umbrella to work. Luck would have it, it was raining buckets around 4:30, quittin’ time. Thankfully I had my rather unattractive yet incredibility necessary Pacific Northwest gear, my rain jacket. You know the kind with the little drawstrings around the hoodie to seal out all possible moisture? Needless to say when I arrived home I was cold, wet and thankful to be watching the rain from my dry, warm apartment. Not so good weather if you don’t have an umbrella but perfect chocolate chip cookie making weather.
I had planned them all along, but the weather was just the encouragement I needed to bust out the butter and chocolate chips. I have been making the same chocolate chip cookie recipe for years now and it has never failed me once. Ok it did once, but it’s not the recipes fault. A certain baker was in a hurry, nuked the butter which turned to be disastrous, cookies flatter than pancakes, she has learned her lesson.
This recipe to which I am a able to make without a single recipe card in sight (Is that bad? Isaac assured me this is perfectly fine) is full of melty chips, a slight crunch around the perimeter and ooey gooey goodness flooding the nucleus. Isaac took off for a men’s weekend up north, which will undoubtedly be choked full of cigars, beer, bibles and the aforementioned cookie. Here’s the recipe if you dare try. But a word of wisdom, easy does it on the cookie dough consumption, I know the after cookie dough tummy ache all to well, I never learn.
Ok so by now I bet your thinking, why the title & photos Marionberry Croissant, has she lost her mind, we talking chocolate chip cookies here. Keep reading. Whenever my husband is out of town, I slip out of bed, shuffle out the door in my slippers, down the elevator to the little french bakery next to my apartment. I’m boring when it comes to ordering, if I’ve found something I like I stick with it. In the case of the french bakery it’s the above marionberry croissant. The first bite is my favorite, the big crunching sound as I sink my teeth through what seems to be thousands of layers of butter, pure sweet butter. I can only assume I have lips of powdered sugar but like I said I’m alone, what gives? After a couple bites you hit the jackpot, the slightly sweet marionberry jam. I had never tasted a marionberry until moving to Seattle, and boy was I missing out. They are a variety of blackberry, but sweeter I would say. If you, like me are interested in the family tree of this fine fruit, take a looksy here. I would never wish my husband out of town, but I do always look forward to my marionberry crossiant.