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Cooking with Myra: Growing old, hot topic

New York Times Cookie
  • Originally published June 21, 2011 at midnight, updated June 21, 2011 at midnight

  • NEW YORK TIMES COOKIE2 cups, minus 2 Tbsp. (81/2 oz.) cake flour

    12/3 cups (81/2oz.) bread flour

    11/4 tsp. baking soda

    11/2 tsp. baking powder

    2 tsp. coarse salt

    21/2 sticks (11/4 cups) unsalted butter

    11/4 cups (10 oz.) ...

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    • NEW YORK TIMES COOKIE2 cups, minus 2 Tbsp. (81/2 oz.) cake flour

    12/3 cups (81/2oz.) bread flour

    11/4 tsp. baking soda

    11/2 tsp. baking powder

    2 tsp. coarse salt

    21/2 sticks (11/4 cups) unsalted butter

    11/4 cups (10 oz.) light brown sugar

    1 cup, plus 2 Tbsp. (8 oz.) granulated sugar

    2 large eggs

    21/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

    11/4 pounds bittersweet disks (at least 60 percent cacao content)

    Sea salt for sprinkling on cookies

    Sift flours, baking soda, baking powder and salt into a bowl. Set aside. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, cream butter and sugars together until very light, about 5 minutes. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla. Reduce speed to low, add dry ingredients and mix until just combined, 5 to 10 seconds. Drop chocolate pieces in and incorporate them without breaking them. Press plastic wrap against dough and refrigerate for 24 to 36 hours. Dough may be used in batches, and can be refrigerated for up to 72 hours. Do not skip this refrigeration time - I promise they will taste better.

    When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat. Set aside.

    Scoop six, 31/2

  • Hannah's blogourtrailofcrumbs.blogspot.com

By Myra Starkey

I refuse to get old, but despite my protests, I feel it happening. When I wake up in the mornings, my hands feel as swollen and sore as if I had been in a boxing match the evening before. I awake in a cloud of mild confusion, which fortunately dissipates soon after rising and is completely gone after my first cup of coffee. My husband, Taylor, and I sit down together at breakfast and open the newspaper to look over the obituaries making sure none of our friends have crossed over without us knowing it. All of these are signs of aging.

I went shopping in Corpus Christi last weekend with Taylor. He went in search of button snap western shirts, while I was looking for a dress for an upcoming wedding. A couple of our friends have kids getting married this summer, and my wardrobe is sparse on dresses for weddings. I approached a sales associate the age of my daughter and asked her if she had any dresses with sleeves that might look good on me. She rolled her eyes upward and then asked if I could give her an idea of what I wanted. I carefully explained that I preferred sleeves to cover my arms and I did not want the neck of the dress to be too low. I said I hoped she had something age appropriate, and she gave a weak smile. She returned with three of the ugliest dresses I have seen in a long time, all matching the description I had given her, high neck and long sleeves. Two of the dresses were black with large flowers, and the third looked like the inside of a refrigerator at a florist shop. When I explained that these looked too old for my age, she politely told me that I needed to go upstairs to formal wear, probably thinking she was glad to get rid of me. I took the escalator up to the second floor and immediately noticed a rise in temperature. Upstairs there were bathing suits, children's clothes and ladies dresses . and a broken air conditioner.

I made my way to the ladies section and was greeted by a small, Asian woman who was approximately a size 0. Although she was a tiny person, she was at least my age. I picked up several dresses with jackets and another with sleeves and she showed me to the dressing rooms. I noticed there was a line forming outside the door, and when she whisked me past the waiting women, I should have been concerned. She led me into the inner dressing rooms and opened a door into one about three feet by three feet. I told her I did not want to cut in line, and she mumbled that the others were waiting for the larger rooms which were cooler. I noticed that several fans had been placed in the other area and realized I probably should have waited in line.

My first dress was made of a heavy spandex fabric and had no zipper. I pulled it over my head and straightened the dress over my hips. Not bad I thought, but a little too tight. By this time, my sales lady had asked if I needed any help, and I sent her in search of a larger size. I was sweating because of the lack of air conditioning and the fact that heat rises, and I was on the second floor in a dressing room the size of a refrigerator box. I tried to get the next dress over my head, but somehow it became twisted and that combined with the small space, I could not maneuver it past my waist. One of my arms was bent with my elbow up and part of the expansive skirt material wrapped around it. I started to panic, and then my heart began to beat fast. I think I might have felt my chest tightening when I heard the lady at my door. "Help" I called with my voice muffled by the part of the dress already over my head. I moved to the corner so she could open the door and assist me in the dress trap. She pulled and I pulled and finally extricated myself from the garment. She brought a larger size, but I made a mental note to only try on dresses with zippers.

I had a water bottle in my purse, so I took a couple of sips before considering the next garment. By that time, there were other customers in the rooms near me, probably having given up on waiting for the larger dressing rooms. Everyone was talking about how hot it was. I stepped out to look in a mirror and noticed my face was scarlet partly due to the heat and partly because of entrapment anxiety. The lady next to me was about at least a size 16, but in her mind was a size 12 and so was having a really hard time finding a dress. I overheard her friend encouraging to go up at least one size, but she was determined to find a 12 that was sized correctly. I saw her come out once with a skin tight spandex floral dress that she likely had a heck of time getting out of in that sticky, sweaty environment.

I finally gave up since I hated to try on any more dresses in the heat. As I descended the escalator I considered that the upstairs of an un-air-conditioned department store might be the perfect place to start a diet. Trying on clothes in front of a mirror in a small space totally took away my appetite for the rest of the day.

Let me explain. When someone is thin, they don't even have to try on clothes. They look good in almost anything. Everything fits, so there is absolutely no need to try it on, hence the saying, "she would look good in a burlap sac." In my life, I would have to pass up a lot of really good food to fit in this category, assuming it was even possible. I have long given up skinny, and hope to just accomplish, "looks good for her age." Today, I am happy to be alive and not trapped in a dress.

In my quest for the perfect chocolate chip cookie, I have consulted my daughter, Hannah, who thinks she may have found it. Hannah has started a food blog called "Our Trail of Crumbs" on blogspot, and I found the recipe there. They are easy to make and can be prepared today and baked later. They are oh so delicious.

Myra Starkey lives in Victoria. Write her in care of the Advocate, P.O. Box 1518, Victoria, TX 77901, or email myra@vicad.com.