We all have weaknesses. We’re human.
Today mine are lipstick, dark chocolate, and coffee.
As a child though, my weakness was chocolate chip cookie dough.
Straight from the mixing bowl.
Long before people worried about salmonella, CFCs, and Y2K – I ate raw chocolate chip cookie dough.
The old warning was, “Don’t eat too much. You’ll get a sore tummy,” opposed to today’s “Cracking an egg? Wear gloves then wash your hands with boiling water and acid.”
Little did I know there was also the risk of E. coli from the raw flour. Yep, I’ve been livin’ on the edge since nursery school.
When I moved to Winnipeg, I discovered something life changing. Literally, because I gained 10 … 15 … weight, I gained weight.
Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.
Sure, I was skeptical at first. But this dough seemed perfect to make itty-bitty cookies. Just like the short-lived 1980s treat, Chipopities – miniature chocolate chip cookies.
My homemade dough had a different consistency. Thicker. Stiffer. With loads of chocolate chips.
The Pillsbury dough was like Little Red Riding Hood’s dream: just right. Or, so I thought.
I cut the Pillsbury tube in half, and I set out to make cookies. The instructions stated slice the dough, which I found bizarre. I always palm-rolled my cookies, then I squished them with a floured fork. Seeing no reason to change my method, I rolled the Pillsbury dough into tiny balls.
The dough became mushy, and it stuck to my hands. I switched from small cookies to two-inch balls, then four-inch, dropping them aimlessly onto a cookie sheet. Not really caring where they landed – because my hands were caked with dough.
With dough clinging to my hands, I pushed off the goo – and popped some into my mouth. My eyes went wide. I swear I felt my pupils dilate.
I plucked off more goo – eating that yummy Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. I couldn’t stop. I lost all control. If I could’ve fit my entire palm into my mouth, I would’ve. The tube was my next victim.
The result was six cookies. My sister – who was my roommate at the time – said, “I thought there’d be more.”
I shrugged and wiped dried cookie dough from my chin. “I cut the tube in half. Plus, the cookies expanded.”
“Tam, is that cookie dough in your hair?”
“No?”
About that other half of dough in the fridge.
The next day, I was taking out supper. That Doughboy grinned and wiggled his little Buddha belly from the bottom shelf. I wondered, does cookie dough expire? You can’t waste cookie dough.” I nestled onto our couch, and I inhaled a quarter of the tube. Not my proudest moment, and I swore it’d never happen again.
But the next day after work, I wandered into the kitchen, and I intended to take out chicken breasts. I swear. But that damn Doughboy. Taunting me. Yeah, I caved. Then one tube led to another.
Then I noticed my days clothes were a tad snug. I usually wore a baggy purple t-shirt and loose purple wind breaker pants – with a waistband. One day, I was sitting on the couch, gnawing on a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough, and my sister’s boyfriend at the time couldn’t help himself.
“Your sister looks like Grimace.”
Grimace. That plump purple McDonald’s character with short floppy arms. Who no one knows what the heck he is – though there’s a rumour he’s a tastebud. Hey, at least Grimace is happy.
That’s when I wondered, “Do I have a cookie dough problem?” Should I be at Cookie Dough Anonymous meetings, standing at a lectern saying, “My name is Tammy, and I have cookie dough coming out of my pores,” and everyone would rush up and lick me.
Wow, that turned PG-13 fast.
Then, the turning point. My sister borrowed her boyfriend’s car. The same boyfriend who coined me “Grimace.” Big Sis handed me her cellphone.
“Tam, check my voicemail.”
She had a message from her boyfriend. Basically, “Drive carefully because if you get into an accident, there’ll be cookie dough all over the wind shield.” Sure, it made me giggle. But it made me re-evaluate my life choices.
Was cookie dough the healthiest snack? Hmm, let’s think about this whilst we eat raw Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. There were other options. Carrots, celery, apples, walnuts, family-size Aero bars.
A few months later, my sister and I parted ways, and I moved into an adorable bachelor suite.
The night of my move, I went grocery shopping. Stuffing my cart with everything from oranges to spices, cereal to sugar. After all, I was starting from scratch.
And a Pillsbury tube jumped into my cart.
That week, I nibbled slightly on the raw dough, but I didn’t feel that magic. My eyes didn’t vibrate in my skull. I felt zero heart palpitations – which was probably a good thing.
Sadly, the novelty of eating raw Pillsbury cookie dough from a tube had worn off. Just like that, the Doughboy and I ended an eight-month relationship.
And I learned one tube of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough makes approximately 18 cookies.
It’s probably more, but I couldn’t go cold turkey.
I’m only human.
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Update:
Pillsbury makes a safe-to-eat, raw cookie dough.