There’s
something mystical about made-from-scratch chocolate-chip cookies.
Nobody’s look like anybody else’s. Watch the crowd at any school bake
sale, and you’ll see kids pointing out cookies and saying, “My mom made
those.” They know this because chocolate-chip cookies have the
peculiarity of being distinct by maker.
I
was 30 before it hit me that just because my cookies don’t look like my
mother’s it didn’t mean I was doing anything wrong or that she was lying about her
recipe. (A relative went to her grave without telling anyone her secret
recipe for raisin-cream pie, so I know some folks take that sort of thing
pretty seriously.)
Most chocolate-chip cookie recipes are pretty similar – flour, brown sugar,
white sugar, butter, egg, vanilla, baking soda & chocolate chips. But
it isn’t merely differences in ingredients that make cookies different, because
my daughter and I can use ingredients from the same containers and still our
cookies don’t look like each other’s. Somewhere in the steps between
gathering ingredients and the end product, we add an individual touch without
even meaning to.
Same concept, same ingredients, individual results. So, if I can’t put eight things together and end up with the exact same thing
as someone else, how am I supposed to put together several thousand ideas,
thoughts, and feelings and end up with the same notions about God as someone
else?
This has led me to develop my Chocolate Chip Cookie Theory of Religion.
This theory is still being fine-tuned, but the basic premise is that I’m
allowed to question whatever I want to question as long as I still end up with
The Cookie.
Here’s an example of how this works. Some chocolate chip cookie recipes
call for salt. I read a book that says many recipes call
for minor amounts of salt because years ago it was a way of making sure
everyone got enough iodine from iodized salt, and even after that was no longer
a problem the habit remained. So I don’t put salt in my cookies. Do
I still get cookies? Yes. Do I make fun of people who still use
salt? No. Do I demand that everyone make this change?
No. If the self-proclaimed Infallible Grand Poobah of Cookies released a
writ condemning Personal Salt Decisions, would I go back to the original
recipe? No.
It’s not like I’m changing the flour to hamburger and the sugar to bread crumbs
and ending up with meatloaf and trying to call it a cookie. That would
just be crazy. It would also be crazy if I encouraged The Worldwide Order of the Cookie to
divide up into groups based on details, and discouraged them from communicating
with each other or studying The Cookie together. Why, something as wacky
as that could lead to divisive statements:
“This isn’t what I’m used to!! You added nuts!”
“Those
kooks use imitation vanilla instead of pure vanilla extract.”
“Coconut?
Are you some kind of a freak?”
“You can’t come here – you use insulated pans and we use flat aluminum.”
“Margarines
only pray with other Margarines – you’re a Butter.”
“The Grand Poobah says only men can set the oven to preheat!”
The Grand Poobah is so out of touch with reality. No wonder Aunt Francis only ever made pie.
