Jammy Dodgers, Bitches!

I have ridiculously vivid dreams. They are sometimes just a little bit strange, but they are always extremely telling.

Recently, I dreamt I was with a woman and we were sampling caterers for a baby shower. I would say that in awake-life, she is a good acquaintance, but we are not close friends. Which makes her appearance odd, until you factor in that she is a recent Weight Watchers convert and a new believer. Me, I can’t wrap my head around the WW math—it shouldn’t work. But it does. I’m thinking that is why she was my companion in the dream instead of anybody who should logically be there. Say, somebody actually having a dang baby.

Anyway, there we were, sampling cookies and pastries for this event. I have in my hand some sort of cookie that has jam in it. But as I am trying to eat it, the jam begins to replicate itself until it is spilling down my arm and puddling on the table. To solve this, I (obviously) lean down and put my mouth on the lip of the table and try to scoop all of this jam into my mouth using the tiny bit of shortbread in my hand—from whence the ever-re-populating jam is coming.

So as you can imagine, it was quite the mess.

I wake up with a full belly of WTF was that, and proceed to tell all of my friends about this silly dream. To which I get the reply, “Well, Jamie, it means that you should eat the cookies. All of the cookies without guilt over them being cookies.” This is sage advice given the debilitating food neuroses that I’m trying really hard to get over. So I’m like, why the hell not, lets make some fucking cookies.

Problem is, I have no idea what kind of cookies these are….just a vague inkling that I saw them on the Great British Baking Show. (Don’t judge. Just because I stress about eating all the food doesn’t mean I can’t watch the eating of the food…) So I ask my British friend, and yes indeed, she knows them. Jammy Dodgers. If I make them, I should give her some even with all the gluten and dairy.

Now read that again. Isn’t that a funny sentence? Ten years ago, it would have been about fat and sugar. Now its about gluten and dairy. Fat and sugar pose diabetes risks, ya? Gluten and dairy is...what? Gas and mucous? Maybe? For a percentage of the population? Statistically only 1% of the population has Celiac disease. And only 0.4% have wheat allergies. Lactose intolerance is all about genetics, with Northern Europeans at less than 10% and Asians as high as 65%. So perhaps we need to take a big ol’ step back here and reconsider what in the hell we are doing.

So I get the fat and sugar thing. That’s math in calorie land. But this whole gluten and dairy thing is giving me fits. Mostly because I can’t quite reconcile it with boots on the ground function. Like, I have tried gluten-free cooking and baking. For real. I have replaced everything wheat with everything rice, potato, almond, chickpea, coconut, black beans, you name it and I’ve tried it. I’ve even done the math. You lose a couple of carbs here and there, and pick up a protein point maybe, but in a net to net comparison, you’re pretty much even.

And furthermore, you have to add all this crazy bullshit to make it even pretend that it wants to be a baked good. Sometimes its a fuckton of eggs. Most of the time it is some sort of thickening/ binding agent like Agar Agar, Xantham or Tapioca. None of which are super stellar for your digestion to process out. Mostly because they are thickeners and binders, helllll-oo. So, in essence, you end up with a “cookie” (or “bread”) that has a bazillion weird ingredients in it, doesn’t save you much in the realm of numbers, and often tastes like a Franken-concoction that half the time ends up in the damn trash.

Eat the cookie, Jamie. Eat the fucking cookie.

Five little ingredients here, all of which you know and love. All of which your body recognizes and can probably manage to digest with little fuss. Eating all of them will make you fat for sure, but one ain’t gonna kill ya.

I can’t even pretend that I have a better recipe for these f’n cookies than Mr. Paul Hollywood himself, so I’m just going to pass on the flippin’ link. http://paulhollywood.com/recipes/french-squares/

Have at it! Jammy Dodgers, bitches!~