“This is what you would feed people if you were breeding them for meat” - Ellen

“i feel like they’re probably what the elves gave the hobbits when they left for mordor; i eat one and I’m full for half a day” - Gerrit

“Your crunchies are inferior to the kiwi’s mothers’ Anzac bloody cookie. By the by, you arent an Anzac.” - bozo squad

I wont bore you with the history or the sales pitch; if you are from the Southern Hemisphere, you know what a bloody Anzac cookie is. Growing up in Durban, South Africa, these things were everywhere and were/are the defining baseline/bassline of any/every birthday party.

As an adult the virtues are pretty bloody clear

Some people aren’t gonna like em. Good, fuck em. The commercial cookie scene in the US is pretty bloody gory and the people behind Mr’s Fields cookies are catering to a living (mouth) breathing audience.
They are hard as a rock and hence travel well.
They are salty as hell, so they are great for hikes/exertion.
They replace and best any of the sports/energy bars I have ever tasted. (bias noted)
They are actually pretty low on sugar; ~1.5 cups of sugar for 7 cups of dry ingredients and 330 grams of butter.

In any case; recipes abound, I have cribbed considerations off many and hence I cant cite every bloody influence. So follows my personal well worn recipe:

330g Kerrygold butter (don’t skimp)
5 cups of raw rolled oats (no instant oats, the moisture defeats the purpose)
1 cup of flour (ideally not soulless)
1 cup of brown sugar
2 teaspoons of salt (clearly this should be to taste, and be cautious, but this is kinda the point of the cookie)
1/2 cup Lyle’s golden syrup or make your own as I do when Lyle’s is prohibitively expensive
2 cups of trader joes shredded coconut or 1 cup if you are using a more high density coconut (the longer the coconut segments, the lower the coconut density)
1 teaspoon bicarbonate of soda

Preheat oven to 350F (180C).
Mix the dry ingredients in a baking container (except the sugar).
Melt the butter in a pan over low heat.
Add the sugar and syrup to the melted butter.
Increase the heat, dissolve the bicarb of soda in a shot glass with a little warm water and add to the butter.
This mixture should froth on the addition of the dissolved bicarb, continue to stir while this frothing occurs until the temperature creeps towards a point where you would not longer want to touch it.
Dump this frothed butter/sugar/syrup mixture over the dry ingredients mixed earlier and mix well/uniformly with a spoon and/or your paws.
Throw your baking container into the oven.
After 30 minutes, remove the tray and use a spatula to divide the crunchies into rectangles roughly. This is primarily to increase the amount of surface area of the cookie to increase browning.
Re-add the crunchies to the oven and bake for a further 20-30 min depending on your preferences.

Caveats

60 minutes gets you a very very dark cookie; possibly too much for some people.
30 minutes gets you a good looking cookie, but with the ratios above it is unlikely to be cooked in the middle which is highly unfortunate.

Needle leaves vinyl

GPT 3 backstory

seed

https://app.inferkit.com/demo

“I remember the day the aliens swept me up, showed me their wonders and enlightened me on the greatest cookie recipe of all time.”

origin myth bollocks

The day I saw the face of God.

The day I lost my virginity.

And the day I realized that being a mom meant you always risked waking up to vomit all over your bed sheets.

And the day I was so sick from one too many tacos that I was struck with a sudden urge to hug my then five - year - old and pat my boobs.

When I’d been able to go on only a couple of years postpartum with my daughter, I’d wished that my milk glands were located closer to my chin.

(You know, because, if that’s where they were, I wouldn’t have to hold my shirt to myself just so I could nurse, which could be dangerous, seeing as, um, breasts.)

So, yeah, I didn’t remember this friend at all, having been out of touch with her.

Not that I really cared, but I found it sort of amusing that she hadn’t just called to let me know how much her son had grown over the last seven years, or to give me a heads up about the plans she had for the night.

She’d called to deliver bad news - the news that my former husband had been arrested and booked on murder charges.

The saddest part about it all is that I’d always felt like we were pretty close.

Like he and I would have been close, if only he hadn’t met my mom’s previous boyfriend, the one with the two - gun concealed carry permit who raped her repeatedly in the back of his pickup while he was strung out on drugs and meth.

She’d been hoping that he’d end up being the one to die in the crash, so that she could claim my father’s insurance benefits and put down on a house for her and my sister.

But it wasn’t to be.

It was the cousin, my dear cousin, who died - his wife’s parents’ former house and all its contents gone in an instant.

The guy had been in prison for quite some time, on a ten - year sentence for involuntary manslaughter, and was set to be released on parole in a few months.

My mom thought that was the only reason he’d have gone out on that particular day, and that she’d seen him at the tire shop.

When she’d shown me the crime