Attempted Chocolate Pizzelles: or, Vexatious success pays off with dinosaurs

Some things, no matter how delicious, should never go on a pizzelle iron.

Chocolate Waffle Iron Cookies 1½ c sugar 1 c butter 4 eggs 2 c flour ½ c cocoa 2 tsp vanilla Cream sugar and cocoa with butter, beating until light. Beat in eggs and vanilla, using your electric mixer to keep beating until it's whipped. Add flour, stirring just until mixed. Drop by spoonful onto a very well-greased waffle iron and bake until done. They will be too fragile to lift out off of the waffle iron. Instead, place a plate under the waffle iron and tip it until they fall out. You may need to give them a starting nudge with a fork to release them after you have the waffle iron tipped upright. Frost (I made a thin glaze and just poured it over). They are better on the second day. Source: Marti Patter, Police Potpourri, Cedar Rapids (Iowa) State Policeman's Association Auxiliary, 1977

Vanilla Glaze 2 tbsp butter 4 tsp hot water 2 tsp vanilla or so 1 c powdered sugar Melt butter, add hot water. Stir in vanilla, then add powdered sugar. Whisk until smooth. If you have one of those glass measuring cups with a pour spout, you can easily mix this in the cup and then pour it out on all the cookies.

After a surprising run of success with our pizzelle iron, I thought it might be nice to branch out a bit. Also, it might be fun to get chocolate involved. And so, we decided to make the waffle iron cookies that Lace Maker sent to us a while ago. They were so delicious and so easy (albeit a little tricky to get off the iron). 

But this time, I wanted to make pretty waffle iron cookies. Also, I wanted to play with my new pizzelle iron. I told myself that a pizzelle is basically a waffle. And a waffle iron is a waffle iron, whether it has pretty flowers or a grid of squares. The recipe should feel right at home cooking in one... or so I believed.

And so, I mixed the batter. I then put so much cooking spray onto the iron that I could have used it as a candle. I then put about the same amount of batter that has generally been right for this iron. The moment I closed it, a hot mess sputtered out on all sides.

On the bright side, the batter leaked out of the iron before I had the chance to get it onto the stove burner. After holding the iron over the trash can and scraping off the molten cookie dough, I put it on the stove and let it cook. Upon opening the iron, I found... this.

At this point, I could have gotten out the normal waffle iron and cooked the rest of our cookie dough in it. After all, that worked perfectly last time. Furthermore, the recipe's title tells us to use a waffle iron. But while I do have the occasional spurt of intelligence, I also have ill-timed flareups of stubbornness. This was now a challenge.

For our next attempt, I used less batter. I also kind of hover-held the top of the iron so that it couldn't squeeze our cookie to death. We sort of succeeded here, even though the cookie looks like a random smudge of batter that landed on the waffle iron.

Because I was too lazy to get out a timer, I was following the instructions I got over the phone from Fante's kitchen to say one Hail Mary per side. I don't know if I was timing the cookies or if I was praying for them to let go of the pizzelle iron.

Whether by divine intervention or by improving with experience, our cookies were slowly but steadily improving. But producing intact cookies on a pizzelle iron was an irksome process. I couldn't let go of the iron while we were cooking them. To prevent the iron from pressing all the batter out like it did the first time, I had to place one finger pressed between the wooden handles to keep them ever-so-slightly spread apart. (Is this why the iron has wooden handles to begin with?) Granted, when you have to flip the iron every thirty seconds under the best conditions, you don't exactly have a lot of leisure time while you wait. But I have never been so pinned to the stove. 

Really, I brought this on myself. Marti Platter, whose name appears under the recipe in the original book, used a normal waffle iron. When I followed her directions, our cookies were so much easier (and delicious enough to save the recipe). Furthermore, I knew exactly where I had stored the waffle iron after the last time we used it. But for reasons not even known to myself, I persisted with pizzelles. 

After we got a few cookies in, the first one had cooled off. And so, with my one free hand that wasn't caught in a pizzelle iron, I tasted it. 

I was so mad at how good it came out. The outside was almost unnaturally crispy, and the inside was practically fudge. Imagine a cookie made entirely out of the corner piece of the brownie pan. I was hoping it would be terrible, so I could forget the whole enterprise. Unfortunately, they were too good to stop making them. (Reminder: I brought this on myself.)

After making enough of these cookies, I started to get a feel for how much batter would fill the iron without oozing out of it. I was so pleased the first time I got it nearly exactly right.

After a few more of these, I made the perfect pizzelle. It filled the iron from edge to well-sprayed edge. It was exquisite. It was perfection. It was so not worth it.

All good things must come to an end, whether they're bad ideas or not. We soon reached the end of the batter. As often happens, our final cookie was a runty one made of all the spatula-scrapings we could get off the bowl. In this way, our chocolate pizzelle cookies made a perfect cycle-- from too-small cookies, to perfection, and back to puny cookies at the end. 

As soon as someone tried one, he said "Uh, you're going to do these again, right?"

I said "NO!"

Then I gave it some thought and added "At least, not on this iron."

If you see this and want chocolate pizzelles, there are plenty of recipes out there for them that will grant your wish with greater ease. Or, if you think this recipe looks so good (and it is), you can avoid all this trouble if you use a normal waffle iron. Sometimes, following the directions is the best way. But I have to admit, this was so much more photogenic.

But the cookies looked pretty (well, some of them) and tasted delicious. I wrapped the good ones in one of my special cookie-giving containers for our neighbors up the street who have once again put a twelve-foot Christmas skeleton in their yard. This year, Al CaBone (that's his name) is joined by an even taller skeleton with pumpkin head. The neighbors weren't home at the time, so I awkwardly stuffed the cookies in their mailbox and hoped they weren't gone for two weeks or something.

I may seem like a cheapskate to give away cookies in a bag on a paper plate, but I consider it part of the gift. Not only are we letting people have cookies, we also liberate them from any guilt over whether they should bring the container back.

I was originally going to write that for all our frustration (and the time we spent gouging out pieces of burnt-batter), today's ill-advised adventure at least had a happy ending because chocolate was involved. But things ended even better than I thought. A few days after leaving a batch of cookies at Al CaBone's house, we found this on the porch. The note in the card said "We thought you Al's pet dino could brighten your home! He doesn't eat much but he's fun to play with."

 Never underestimate pizzelles.