Guess who got off work two hours earlier than planned? This girl. Thus, a celebratory blog post. This one’s been sitting in my drafts for a while – now, voila.
I’ve noticed I do a lot of things in life “just because”. My lips don’t need a reason to be coated in red lipstick. Why am I driving barefoot? Because I can. I’ll go through chapters of a book reading upside down; I’ve been known to buy random gifts for people months away from their birthday or any holidays simply because.
That’s how most of my baking seems to be – just because. Because it’s Tuesday. Because the sun is shining. Because I need to use up this bag of coconut coconut. Because I have a few hours to kill.
So on & so forth.
When I was browning the butter for these, my father walked in the kitchen and asked what I was doing.
“Browning butter,” I replied. Obviously.
He paused for a minute, looking into my pan, and said, “Oh, you mean, burning it. Cool.”
Burning butter? I guess so.
“What are these?”
“Burned butter cookie cups! Here, try one!”
“Ohh…um…no thanks. I’m allergic to…um…burned things.”
“No, they’re good, I swear!”
Right. There’s a reason it’s called browned butter.
This was my first time browning butter. I’ve heard a lot of fuss about it but never got around to doing it, mostly for fear of ruining it. Yet, for as many times I’ve used the stove, I’ve never burned down a building, so I tried it. Goodness, browning the butter makes these cookie cups sing! Photographing them was horrendous; with my face hovering directly over the cups, it took all my self-control (what little I possess) to not stuff every single one of them into my mouth.
It’s smooth sailing after the butter is browned. Don’t be intimidated by this “browned butter” talk, by the way (isn’t that fun to say? Browned butter, browned butter, browned butter!). Browning butter is nothing more than leaving the butter in the pan on the stove longer than you usually would if you were merely melting it, which causes it to turn brown and smell nutty and fragrant. And beautiful.
Hey, you don’t even need to tablespoon out the dough! Muffin pans really are convenient.
The final product is thick & ooey-gooey-chewy-delicious. Ridiculously delicious. Never-ending summer delicious. 12-hour-hard-sleep-after-a-long-week delicious. Brand-new-hardcover-book delicious. Melt-your-face-off-delicious.
You can’t tell from the photos, but the wrappers have pictures of muffins on them. And “muffins” is scrawled all over them, multiple times.
See? Cookie cups in muffin tins in muffin wrappers declaring their contents to be muffins, just because I can.
Make these. Make them because it’s Tuesday and Tuesdays are neither popular nor hated. Make them because you want the satisfaction of burning something that ends up tasting really, really good. Make them because you are fearless and have really fabulous hair.
Make them because you deserve to be good to yourself.
- 1/2 cup unsalted butter, browned (see directions)
- 1 large egg
- 3/4 brown sugar, packed
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 1 1/4 cups chocolate chips (milk, semi-sweet, or dark)
- Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour a mini-muffin pan, or line with mini muffin liners. Set aside.
- In a skillet or sauce pan, melt butter over medium-low heat, stirring constantly, until the butter turns brown and fragrant (butter will melt and foam, then turn from clear to golden to brown). Remove pan from burner and continue to stir for about one minute.
- Poor butter into large mixing bowl and allow to cool momentarily to prevent the egg from scrambling. Stir in egg, sugars, and vanilla.
- Add flour, baking soda, and salt; stir until just combined (a few flour streaks is okay). Fold in chocolate chips.
- Spoon dough equally into mini-muffin cavities. Bake for about 6-8 minutes.
- Allow cookies to cool in the pan for 20 minutes. Devour. (They will keep for about a week at room temperature or 3 months in the freezer.)