Stephen Duckett’s Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

If you live in Alberta, chances are good you’ve heard about “cookiegate.”

Stephen Duckett's Oatmeal Raisin Cookies II

If you don’t, there’s still a chance you may have heard about it. (Even DListed caught wind.)

Here it is in a nutshell: after a week that saw harsh criticism levelled at Alberta Health Services, the board’s chief executive Stephen Duckett spent the day Friday in a meeting examining Alberta’s emergency care crisis. At the end, he came out to find three reporters looking for comment.

And what did he say? “I’m eating my cookie.”

Repeatedly.

You can see the entire exchange on YouTube here, though I also quite enjoyed this Cookie Monster/Duckett mash-up that someone later posted.

I’m not saying he had to stop and give a quote. My point is merely that this is a highly-paid official and a professional. It would have been much easier to simply stop, say he would not be giving a comment but that there was a media availability in 30 minutes if the reporters wanted a quote. To wave the cookie in a reporter’s face was rude. To continue for two minutes going on about eating the cookie was just comical. And not in an endearing way.

Anyway, I’m not here to wax on about politics. This is a food blog and I’m a baker at heart, so for me the curiousity became increasingly about the cookie at the heart of the controversy.

On Monday, I tweeted that I wondered what type of cookie Duckett had been eating. Turns out I’m not the only one that thought that way. The Edmonton Journal’s political columnist, Paula Simons, tracked down the chef behind the now-infamous cookie and he supplied the recipe. And all I could think after that was, I have to bake these things.

Turns out, he is Emmanuel David of La Persaud catering, a man who believes the secret to a chewy and soft oatmeal cookie lies in using lots of butter and sugar. And this recipe has it in spades. In fact, I was a bit surprised when I saw the ingredient list because it seemed to consist solely of those two ingredients. (Turns out there was some misinformation initially, which the chef later corrected. Below is the corrected version of the recipe.)

Still, only 1 teaspoon of baking powder didn’t seem to be enough leavening to give these cookies some height when competing against all that butter. And a complete absence of salt seemed strange.

But this chef must know what he’s doing, I figured and I confidently moved ahead, creaming together the copious amounts of butter and granulated sugar, beating in the four eggs one at a time and then gently folding in the dry mixture of flour, oatmeal, chopped raisins and the tiny amount of baking powder. (I love the idea of chopping the raisins first so you get little bits of them rather than just complete ones every once in a while.)

OK, I threw in two pinches of salt. It seemed crazy not to have some. Yes, even though I used salted butter.

I threw a tray of six rounded balls of dough in the oven and then set the timer for 10 minutes. (The recipe doesn’t specify how long they go in for, just to bake until “golden.”) When the timer went off, the edges were verging past golden and into “crisp” territory, but the tops of the cookies, while cooked, were almost as pale as snow. I would let them bake for another minute, but just don’t like burnt cookies, so I pulled them out and tried again. For the second batch, I moved the rack in the oven up a rung so it was in the top third and not in the middle. These cookies fared a little better.

I tried making them smaller; I tried making them bigger.

But nothing I did made them look the same colour as the cookie Duckett brandishes in the video.

Perhaps the best thing I did was sprinkle a scant pinch (just a few grains really) of sea salt on top of the last few batches to try to even out the sweetness.

It was only halfway through as I was trying to puzzle out why they weren’t working (the perfectionist in me was absolutely beyond annoyed) when I began to wonder if David meant brown sugar when he just wrote “sugar” in the recipe. That certainly would have changed the colour and given them a bit more heft. It’s too late now, but I may revisit this later and make that swap. Or do half granulated and half brown to see what happens.

Because, ultimately, these are very light, soft cookies and worth a second attempt.

As the last tray came out of the oven, news began to trickle out over twitter that Duckett had been given the boot.

I guess that’s the way the cookie crumbles.

Chopped Raisins

Dough

Oatmeal Raisin Dough balls

Stephen Duckett's Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

Stephen Duckett’s Oatmeal Raisin Cookies

from Emmanuel David, converted into imperial measurements by me. The instructions are exactly how he gave them on Simons’ blog.

  • 500g butter (about 2 1/8 cups. One block of butter is 454g, so it’s more than that)
  • 450g sugar (2 cups)
  • 4 large eggs
  • 200g organic oatmeal (2 cups)
  • 100g California Golden Raisins, chopped (scant 3/4 cup and I used purple ones because that’s what I could find.)
  • 400g flour (2 3/4 cups)
  • 5 mL baking powder (1 teaspoon)
  • Dash cinnamon, optional

Method:

1. Cream Butter & Sugar Until Fluffy. Add Egg Gradually

2. Fold Flour, Oatmeal & Raisins Mix Well

3. Shape cookies into small round balls. Do not flatten – place on cookie sheets as balls.

4. Bake 180 degrees C until golden brown.

(Gwendolyn’s note here: Most of mine baked for about 12 minutes to get a golden edge and bottom. They were fully cooked, though still pale.)

Yield: Makes approx. 30- 90g Cookies

(Mine made more than 30, for sure. Somewhere closer to 45.)

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Long Lost Cookies

Say what you will about Facebook, it reunited me with a long-lost recipe for some of the best cookies I’ve baked in a long time.

Long Lost Cookies

Of course, it’s a little more convoluted than that.

Let me try to put this in as small a nutshell as possible. Back in high school, I traveled to England for six weeks to spend time with a friend of mine. The summer was pretty awesome: we snuck into pubs with our pitiful fake IDs that should not have helped us gain entry anywhere (Seriously, mine literally said: Canadian I.D.), visited London and Stonehenge, spent a week in a cottage in a seaside town in Wales and basically spent a lot of time hanging out without much parental supervision. But back in Vancouver, a girl whom I had called a best friend (and whose friend we were visiting in England) essentially severed our friendship. Since she had been friends with the girl in England much longer than I, I pulled back.

And then, 15 years later, she found me on Facebook. Did I still make those famous cookies? she queried. Um, what cookies?

Over the course of several e-mail conversations, she then relayed this message: I see you travel a lot. Any chance you’re coming over here any time soon? And I was.

Was I hesitant to reconnect with a person I had not seen, let alone communicated with, in more than a decade? A woman now with a husband and children who probably no longer craves Buck’s Fizz (an awful concoction of fizzy wine and orange juice that I guzzled that summer) and with whom I may no longer have anything in common? Um, yes. But then I arrived in Bristol to a Welcome Home sign coloured by her two children. I was welcomed at the dinner table like family and everything fell into place as if no time had passed other than we have grown wiser (for the most part) and can now legally buy our alcohol.

During the three days in Bristol, she pulled out of her recipe book and showed me the short list of ingredients written in my own bubbled printing that I had given her when we were still teens. I had, apparently, made these all the time. I have no recollection of them. I copied out the recipe — an odd sensation copying something written in my own hand — in my travel journal. Since then, there have been little nudges from overseas, reminding me of the recipe.

So, when a cup of butter sat softened on the counter and my plans to make a type of roll-out cookie had fallen through, it seemed only right to see just why that recipe had stood the test of time.

I am so grateful to have it, and my friend, back in my life.

Getting started

The batter

Mmmmm chocolate chips

Preparing to bake

It’s so basic that I don’t quite understand how all these dull-normal ingredients can come together to make such a thick, chewy cookie. But I’m definitely not going to lose this recipe again.

Long Lost Cookies

  • 1 cup butter
  • 2/3 cup white sugar
  • 2/3 cup brown sugar
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • 1 1/2 cups flour
  • 1 tsp. salt
  • 1 tsp. baking soda
  • 2 cups oatmeal
  • 1 1/2 cups chocolate chips

(I would consider the addition of nuts or dried cranberries might be a nice touch. But this recipe is pure deliciousness as is, so don’t feel you have to experiment.)

(EDIT: Some people have wondered why there are two types of chocolate chips in my photo. The answer is, quite simply, that I had half of a bag of milk chocolate chips left over from some other baking frenzy and wanted to use them up. Though the combination was good, just use whatever you have on hand.)

Preheat oven to 350. Cream together softened butter and sugars until light. Beat in eggs and vanilla. Add flour, salt and baking soda, then oatmeal. Stir in chocolate chips (and nuts or cranberries, if desired). Bake for 10 – 12 minutes. (I like my cookies a good solid size. These ones I measured out using a mounded soup spoon and they took 12 minutes.) Let cool.

Long Lost cookies

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