Saturday, May 14, 2011
Nancy's Potato Chip Cookies
I was recently forwarded an email newsletter from Great Balls of Yarn, a chain of wool shops (doh!) in Florida. I know, I know, whodathunk? Florida and knitting go together like, well...oil and water, maybe? At the bottom of the newsletter, the good people at GBY shared a cookie recipe. This was the reason my friend forwarded me the email - she said the recipe had my name written all over it.
No, my name's not Nancy - but I am giving credit where credit is due. Nancy makes one heck of a cookie. The newsletter - from a wool store that credits itself as being a Gourmet Knitting Store - said Nancy's Potato Chip Cookies were the best. Well, a challenge like this was too great for me to turn down. I had to try them!
What more can be said about these? They're quite innocuous looking, a tad bland, in fact. But once you bite into these little gems, the first impression is of a good, nay, very good, shortbread cookie. Then you get to the surprise, as the crispy little salty bits of potato chips delicately infuse your palate. The two tastes together can only be described as sublime.
In keeping with the Snicker Doodle recipe, the beauty of these cookies lies in its simplicity. A few simple ingredients that result in a superlative cookie. These are so good, they're going to be part of my Christmas cookie arsenal this year.
I used Cape Cod potato chips, just like the recipe called for. Next time I am going to try Miss Vickie's, because I think part of the success of these cookies is the "greasiness" of the chips. I think lighter chips, such as the Lay's or Pringles of this world, would not be as successful.
So don't thank me - thank Nancy, the doyenne of cookie-makers who frequents Great Balls of Yarn. And thank Great Balls of Yarn for knowing a good thing when they taste it, and for sharing it with the world.
Nancy's Potato Chip Cookies
1 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup sugar
1-1/2 cup sifted flour
1 tsp vanilla
3/4 cup crushed Cape Cod potato chips
Cream together softened butter and sugar until fluffy.
Fold in the sifted flour until smooth. Add vanilla and chips.
Drop by rounded teaspoonful onto an ungreased cookie sheet.
Bake at 325F for 15-20 minutes.
Yield: about 30 cookies.
As always, the success of this recipe lies in the butter. Don't consider using salted butter, and don't even entertain the idea of using margarine. Again, weigh your butter if you have a trusty kitchen scale. 1 cup of butter = 227 g.
I crushed the potato chips in a Ziploc bag using my rolling pin. Next time, I am going to use the potato chip bag instead, as the Ziploc bag is now effectively toast. (Yes, I like to re-use Ziploc bags, okay? No need for it to end up in a landfill if it's held romaine lettuce, or some bread. Lecture over). I wondered how finely I needed to crush the potato chips? In the end, I'd say the largest bits were about 1/8" big, and still recognizable as bits of potato chips. All that to say, don't grind them into powder using a food-processor. Part of the goodness of this recipe is the surprise crunchiness, and that would be lost if you crushed the chips into oblivion.
I am in love love love with my Wilton Even-Bake insulated cookie sheet, so much so that I recently bought a second 14" x 16" cookie sheet. If you're in the States, this baby might run you around $20 at Target, but being Canadian, (we enjoy being screwed on US goods), I ended up paying something like $35 bucks. The sticker shock nearly killed me, but I am sure it will last a lifetime. These will be the last cookie sheets I will ever need to buy, of that I am positive.
I line my cookie sheets with parchment paper. In the spirit of environmental friendliness and in keeping with my little Ziploc rant above, I use and reuse the same parchment paper for cookies until it starts to look tattered. No harm done making a little thing last a bit longer. Every little bit helps.
Next time, (oh yes, there will be a next time!), I think I am going to drizzle a bit of melted chocolate on the top. I think that chocolate could only enhance these little babies, but even without, they are divine.