Girl Eats Food - Iced Potato Chip Cookies

If you’re a student with an overactive sense of ironic indignation, you probably already know this, but the Cookie Monster has been neutered. Yeah, some sick TV executive ruined Sesame Street for everyone by forcing Cookie Monster to adopt a new sanitized and healthy diet. I just found out about this the other day, so I thought I’d do my part to preserve the cookie while its noisiest supporter is busy wrestling with this mutiny. Iced Potato Chip Cookies Even though you’re basically combining two of the all time greatest snacks, the combination sounds pretty revolting. It’s that unnatural combination of sweet and salty, isn’t it? But it works. And, once you’ve done this simple shit, you can graduate to some Heston Blumenthal stuff, like making Prawn Cocktail chips or Bombay mix or whatever. To offset the saltiness of these cookies, use a little sugar icing on top. Luckily, my career has gone so badly that I've spent some time working where art college graduates go to die—on the professional icing circuit. It will take you a while to get as bomb as I am at sugar doodling, but just think of all the passive-aggressive messages you'll get to write on birthday cakes. Ingredients 8oz x butter
8oz x plain flour
½ x cup granulated sugar
1 x tsp vanilla extract
½ x cup crushed plain “potato chips”
Icing sugar and warm water and food colouring if you want. First things first. Before everyone in the UK soil their pants over language, the amount of butter in these make them come out soft and crumbly, so technically they’re a COOKIE and not a biscuit. So fuck you. Step 1.

Smash your chips up as finely as your patience and the resilience of the packet allows.

Step 2.    

Like every sweet recipe ever, the key to this is just dumping all your shit in a bowl and mixing it till it looks right. Would you eat a sausage off the floor if it looked exactly like a turd? No, because it probably would be a turd. Every worthwhile foray into gastronomic oblivion involves at least one shit/Shinola moment. This is it.

Step 3.    

Or maybe this is? Whatever, chuck in the salt crumbs and pray for "not shit" as you mix evenly.

Step 4.    

Hey, there is a God! Now squidge your mix into neat little balls, each one around the size of a kumquat. In fact, exactly the size of a kumquat. If you don't know what a kumquat is, now's the time to utilize Google and educate yourself.

Step 5.    

To transform your balls into cookie shapes, take a heavy-bottomed glass, smear it with more butter, and dust with sugar.

Step 6.    

Now you can use the sugar-glass to smush your balls into the defeated, submissive state they need to be in for baking. Admit it, that glass thing is a good tip. It's basically as good a tip as I've ever given you. That's the stuff that TV careers are built on.

Step 7.

Once your dough splats are arranged on grease-proof paper like 12 Mexicans on military parade, cook for around 15 minutes on 350f.

Step 8.

Meanwhile you can mix up your icing for the piping. The best piping needs about a bajillion parts icing sugar to one drop of water—it needs to be thick enough to stick to the ceiling.

Step 9.

Once they're golden, take your cookies out to cool.

Step 10.

There are hundreds of videos of uptight women making geometrically exact piping bags with greaseproof paper.

But I’m going to go on record and say if you slop it in a sandwich bag and snip the corner off, it has exactly the same effect, minus the fucking around doing origami.

Step 11.

Icing patterns need to be laid out like a stream of goldfish turd rather than dragged as if you were using a pen. Good sack control takes a while to perfect, but once you’ve got the hang of it, there shouldn’t be much squeezing at all.

Look at them. Classy as fuck.

They even make the new (legally necessary) name less depressing. I'd usually put in a photo of me eating the food at this point to prove I hadn't just taught you how to poison yourself, but I fell off a bike earlier this week so I'm not really into that. See you next week!

Previously - Poutine