Patently, I got something horribly wrong. The cookies melted. I had to use rollertowel to soak off the fat. Ewwww.
…and the worst part? I couldn't stop munching them. It went something like this:
ME: Urgh. These look like those dreadful ginger snaps I made when I was 12. Dammit.
*a few minutes as they cool*
*I try one*
ME: Dammit. It's like eating golden syrup. Dang.
TEETH: With oil. Ew. We're all coated!
STOMACH: Nom. More.
ME: No way! They don't even taste like custard!
ME: Uh-HUH! Bad stomach! I don't like these!
*I get busy with making sure the oven's off (three times), tidying up, washing up…*
ME: Wow, these silicone baking sheets are really hard to clean.
*Tidies up some more*
ME: HEY! I said no more! Where did you get that, anyway?
This was just rude.
So I consoled myself with my mom's chicken and broccoli casserole. Way. Much. Better. (And I remembered to add salt, which is a Good Thing. I don't like my doctor calling me a silly goose, especially when I deserve it!)
I will say that later, when they'd cooled and I'd used sheets and sheets of rollertowel, you could actually taste the custard, and they weren't quite so cloying. And they were chewy. And my family couldn't stop eating them either. So, not a complete fail, but I'm determined to get this right.
I'm off to find the real recipe. Cover me, I'm goin' in!