My children don’t like oatmeal raisin cookies. They will eat them under duress (i.e. no other options), but only one…maybe. One child won’t even touch them.

This is odd because they pile raisins on their garden salads, and they happily eat all other oatmeal related foodstuffs. They like cookies, too. Or at least some cookies.

Come to think of it, I’ve noticed a collective attitude of snobbishness when it comes to cookies. They appreciate the standard chocolate chip, sugar, and gingerbread, but others? Not so much.

Weirdos.

I first started observing this odd behavior while we were in Guatemala, but I chalked it up to too much junk food at school (and thus a decreased hunger for homemade cookies) and not-as-expected textures and flavors thanks to inferior/different ingredients. But now we’re home in our butter-filled fridge and they’re still not enthused. What gives?

I decided to ignore their freak behavior and make oatmeal raisin cookies because they’re classic, because I like them, and because I don’t have a recipe for them on this blog, which is tantamount to blasphemy (not the blog—the lack of cookies). It’s a good recipe. The cookies are caramely from the butter and sugar, crispy on the edges and soft in the middle, lacy with oats, and studded with juicy, fat raisins. The kids are not impressed, but so what.

I suppose I could try to be accommodating and decrease the amount of raisins, change the rolled oats to quick, and toss in some chocolate chips or white chocolate.

But wait—what’s wrong with me? Why am I trying to get my kids to eat cookies?

This is so not a problem. Let them eat carrots. More cookies for me.

Oatmeal Raisin Cookies
Adapted from the April 2013 issue of Bon Appetit.

I’ve gotten into the habit of shaping the chilled cookie dough into logs and then freezing them for later. To bake, I just slice the dough into rounds (some doughs can be sliced while frozen, but others—like the oatmeal raisin dough—need to thaw a little to minimize crumbleage). With no messy scoop-and-plop dough to do battle with, fresh cookies have never been easier! Bonus: this tactic will make you look completely With It. Whenever I pull a stick of dough out of the freezer, my husband gets all moony. Nothing, and I mean nothing, turns him on like a smart-ass shortcut.

2 sticks butter
1 cup brown sugar
½ cup sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup all-purpose flour
½ teaspoon each salt, baking powder, and baking soda
1/8 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
2 cups rolled oats
2 cups raisins

Cream together the butter and sugars. Beat in the eggs and vanilla. Stir in the flours, salt, baking soda, baking powder, nutmeg, and oats. Add the raisins. Chill the dough for an hour in the fridge. Divide the dough into three or four parts and shape into logs. Wrap in plastic wrap and place in a plastic bag before returning to the freezer.

To bake, thaw the logs for about 20 minutes before slicing, laying the rounds on a cookie sheet, and baking at 350 degrees until the edges are golden and the centers are puffy but still slightly wet looking. Allow the baked cookies to rest on the baking sheet for two minutes to set up before transferring to the cooling rack.

This same time, years previous: answers, quotidian (4.9.12), this slow, wet day, with the fam in WV, asparagus with lemon and butter, and the kind of day.

This same time, years previous: yellow cake, daffodils and horses, cardamom orange buns, and writing it out.

Warm weather hit and now I’m so sore I limp.

We took two days off from studies to work outside. (As homeschoolers, we don’t do Snow Days. Sun Days, on the other hand, yes, please.) We raked up all the debris in the yard—six months of dogs, kids, snow, and wind and this place was trashed. We clipped back the dead plants, raked the flower gardens, weeded the asparagus (I saw the first little tip tentatively peeking out!), and gave the raspberries a machete haircut. I sent the two older kids to the neighbors’ for a couple trailerloads of manure, which we spread on the garden. My son tilled. We planted the hearty stuff: onions, spinach, lettuce, radishes, beets, and kale. The kids played stick ball and picked daffodils.

One of the evenings my husband and the kids spruced up the chicken coop, and the next day seven hens moved in. These little ladies are the responsibility of my older daughter. We bought the hens and set her up with a bag of feed and a notebook to run the numbers, but she’s on her own now. We’ll buy the eggs from her and hopefully she’ll be able to make ends meet. (We need to get more hens, but first we’ll get comfortable with these.)

And oh yes, I’ve been getting up early to run/walk. I positively love soft spring mornings, and the whole day feels better when I’ve battled the hills (and my mind) straight off the bat. After that, the rest of the day feels easy.

This same time, years previous: working lunches, cup cheese, now, he wore a dress, chickpeas with spinach, skillet-blackened asparagus, and spinach-cheese crepes.