March 10, 2013 § 17 Comments
I never was much of a chocolate chip cookie person. In our house growing up, a chocolate chip cookie never emerged from the oven. Not a single time. We were given fresh baked bread or rye flatbreads with cheese after school, not cookies. And, while I know I whined about it, I secretly thought it was kind of awesome (and on the whole, I’ll still take fresh baked bread over a cookie, or very nearly anything else, any day).
My friends had chocolate chip cookies that they would sometimes share with me, of course, or as we got older we would go to their houses and bake them (we did try to bake cookies at my house one time, and they turned out terribly, a melted puddle of disaster instead of cookies. Thus it was that our oven truly never made a batch of chocolate chip cookies, at least not successfully). And I’d eat them. I was a kid, they were sweet, it was cool. But, I never really got to like them.
In college, my sophomore year roommate was a champion cookie baker. She baked cookies whenever she wanted to avoid anything, which meant a heck of a lot of cookie baking. From her, I learned that age-old teenage rite of eating half the cookie dough as we baked (it’s a wonder we never got salmonella, given she wasn’t exactly using the highest quality eggs), resulting in batches of only about a dozen cookies that would actually get baked. And the baked cookies, again, were fine and whatever, but I never started to crave the cookies.
Nor did the signature chocolate chip cookies made by the boy I started dating that year change that. Of course, these ones were odd cookies that didn’t taste particularly good unbaked, or warm, or at room temperature, but were at their best refrigerated and then soaked in milk. Maybe he had accidentally switched to copying a biscotti recipe halfway through writing the cookie recipe down, or something. Either way, I never saw what others seemed to see in chocolate chip cookies. I know so many people who will get excited about a chocolate chip cookie of any quality. But, I never found any cookie good enough to write home about.
Until, that is, my 5th year living in Boston when we moved to an apartment in Jamaica Plain near a hole in the wall little bakery named Canto 6. A bakery with which we promptly fell in love. They make excellent sandwiches with fresh bread and homemade ingredients as well as soups and vegetable quiches and the occasional thin slice of pizza with chevre and olives. They make croissants that would hold their own in Paris, as well as meltingly tender scones, buttery Brioche topped with cheeses and honeys and fruits and other goodies, yogurt cakes, and olive rolls, and berry galettes, and sour cherry crumble pies. All of which are ridiculously high quality and delicious. « Read the rest of this entry »