As a baking blogger, I sure eat a lot of cookies, so you can take me very seriously when I tell you that these are special. Once in a lifetime. If you ever make anything I put up here, make these! Now.
Whoops, I got kind of intense there. But I had to. You see, this recipe is something I can share with you, and I love sharing. In fact, I realized the other day that I probably balance out everything I overshare with the secrets I keep forever.
Yes, I have secrets. Quite a few, and that’s no joking matter.
I’ll try to explain. Whenever I’m watching a TV show and a character doesn’t expose a secret that could help clear her name, I get really frustrated. Why would somebody ever keep a secret that would make her look worse? But then I remember that I’ve done the exact same thing.
Without getting too specific (duh, it’s a secret), I once allowed a friend to believe something terrible about me, a complete untruth, in order to save her relationship with someone more important to her. I figured it was better to help her and let her think I was to blame than to expose the truth.
Years later, I look back at that decision with no regret. Do I wish, to this day, that she knew the truth? For my own sake and the sake of our damaged friendship, yes. For the sake of her own happiness and her future, no. Sometimes, we make really hard decisions.
But when we guard important secrets carefully, we have to share other things liberally. So in other areas of life, I don’t hold back. I let it all go. And these cookies are a perfect tribute to the joy of sharing.
This is not a recipe I invented, but one that was passed on to me by another valued friend. These cookies won the Pillsbury Bake-Off contest in the 1950s, and boy, can I see why. Apparently, they really could bake like gangbusters back in the 50s!
The cookies are intensely buttery, like Russian tea cakes, and bursting with caramel flavor. And the cream in between has a browned butter base. If you’ve never made browned butter, you’re missing out. It’s easy, and it makes one heck of a frosting.
The only change I made to the original recipe was to chill the dough longer. That resulted in thicker and taller cookies, which aren’t as pretty, but which are infinitely more fun to bite into. One of these sandwich cookies will go a long way toward stomping on your sugar cravings.
To be honest, many aspects of my past haunt me, as do my secrets. But I try to even the balance by sharing bits and pieces of my life, and my baking, with everyone. These cookies are definitely not to be missed. Share them!
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