If you ARE a guy, or have been living under a rock (which, ps, while fat free, has no nutrititional value), let me catch you up to speed: "health cookies" (and, yeah, I am going to keep putting that phrase in quotes because well, I'm dubious as to whether those two words can coexist like we're making them do) are cookie-shaped objects that share exactly zero ingredients with cookie-cookies. You know, the ones you WANT to eat.
There are sugar substitutes, butter replacements, egg impostors, and you can guaran-effing-tee, your entire daily allowance of protein. Because, you see, these "health cookies" are designed for the express purpose of tricking your body into thinking you have not only satisfied your pesky sweet tooth, but that you are full. Satiated. Happy. HEALTHY.
Anyway, you know where this is going. I made some "health cookies". I used the recipe that has been repinned approximately seventeen times on my Pinterest this week. One time by me. So like, I guess now's the time to come clean. I'm not actually anti-"health cookie". I just STRONGLY object to calling them cookies. I mean, they're circles(ish) (even less ish if you're me, because I seriously have no sense of baking aesthetics. Everything is just misshapen and horrible looking. And only occasionally redeemingly delicious.), and they're baked, and utilizing a very generous definition of "sweet", they are sweet. But. Let me tell you right now. Cast aside all previously held notions of cookies.
Okay. So, these "cookies". They have two official ingredients, both of whom are doing the lion's share of heavy lifting in the "health cookie" neighborhood these days: 1. Bananas 2. Steel cut oats.
If you just rolled your eyes when you read steel cut oats, join the effing club. I mean, they recently elected (smoked out? What actually happened in the Vatican?) a new Pope; were steel cut oats honestly not being considered for the job? Because people talk about them like they are the legit second coming.
I mean, they're FINE, but can we please just cool our jets about them, ladies (ahem, and gentlemen, if you happen to have been raving about steel cut oats lately. Which? Stop. That's lady talk.). Yes, they're healthy. We can all feel super good about ourselves when we eat them. Also, they're ostensibly more desirable than just like regular run-of-the-mill (mill!) oats, because of how they're steel cut which okay, don't even kid yourself, you don't know what that means.
So. You've got your bananas. And good news for me, this recipe is all about overripe bananas. Which is super if you have really good banana eating intentions but can never quite make yourself potassium up to the rate at which it would require to finish a whole bunch before they start to make your whole kitchen smell like a monkey's armpit (I assume). TWO bananas. In a bowl. Mash them up. Fun!
Mix in a cup of steel cut oats. Remember them? They're fancier than regular oats. Good. Just making sure you're paying attention.
AND THEN? You can add in WHATEVER you want. Which, real talk, is why I even agreed (with myself) to make these "health cookies" in the first place. So. In go the (very small, practically insignificant) handful of choco chips. And then a sprinkle of (non-organic, because get a grip) coconut. And if you're ambitious, a little bit of raisins or craisins, which a. I wasn't feeling ambitious, and b. those things aren't actually healthy, they are just sweet in a way that tricks your brain into thinking you're eating something sweet for just long enough to forget that you will never get to just enjoy something sweet because you're older than 11 and you're a girl (or a guy, but really, are you still reading?). <-- Sometimes I extra punctuate just in case you're not entirely certain whether the sentence is over.
A moment of pause to scan the page above and appreciate all that has so far been said about not-even cookies that have two - at most five! - ingredients and we haven't even gotten to the unattractive glopping and baking of them. Prodigious, no?
So, you get all this stuff in there. Check that it's not "overly runny", which if you can read that instruction without your mind wandering to things that have no place in the kitchen, congratulations. You're an adult. Care for some steel cut oats, you boring old biddy?
Use a spoon. Probably a teaspoon, but honestly, just whatever. Plop them in little globs (actual measurements) on a baking sheet that has parchment paper on it because you're not a dummy who's still using butter or cooking spray for baking and having to wash your cookie sheet every time you get a hankering for a baked treat.
OH SHIT. Did you forget to preheat the oven?
Of course you did. Because you're not Martha Stewart and also, I didn't tell you that part yet. Okay, so that one's on me. Whatever, let's put it behind us and you just go crank that to 350 and have a seat for a minute. Go ahead and watch this weeks Parks and Rec. Shoot. What's that smell?
Yeah, it doesn't take 22 minutes for an oven to preheat, dumdum.
Okay. Stick them in. Set your phone timer to 15 minutes. Don't get excited. Remember, these are "health cookies". You didn't even lick the teaspoon you glopped them out with (maybe serving spoon. Maybe spork. Whatever was handy. You didn't lick it, because it was filled with banana and uncooked steel cut oats and no matter how mature you're acting this week, steel cut oats taste terrible uncooked.)
When your alarm rings, and you have completely forgotten why you even set it, the sweet sweet (but really, sort of fake sweet as far as cookies are concerned) smell of banana will be wafting your way and will hopefully remind you that yes, today is the day you were out of eggs and butter and everything good and decided to try "health cookies" and ugh, now they're done and oof, do you have to eat them or can you just bring them into work and finally put a nail in the coffin of how boring everyone's Paleo Carb Free Gluten Free Lactose Free Parisian Diet has become by making them eat health cookies for a week. Rhetorical question mark.
And, you'll note: no quotes that time. When you're pretending baked things you brought to the office are edible, you need to give the hard sell. Don't air quote "health cookie". Play up the steel cut oatsiness of them and let your judgey eyes remind people that bathing suit season is upon us all.
Meanwhile, I hope you packed some Twizzlers, because man oh man, these "cookies"? Sure do taste healthy.
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