If you’re the sort of person who loves big cookies and hates sharing, you’ve come to the right corner of the internet. Over the last couple of years, I’ve posted three “One Big” cookie recipes: chocolate chip, chocolate M&M, and snickerdoodle. Each one is a super small-batch version of a classic that yields exactly one big cookie for one hungry person (or two people, if you’re nicer than me).
You’d think after posting three single-serve cookie recipes on this site, I’d be able to churn out a new one in my sleep, but you’d be wrong. This lone oatmeal cookie? It took 27 tries. Twenty. Seven. That’s the highest number of concentrated tests I’ve ever done for one recipe.
Despite the fact that all my single-serve cookies start with similar basic ingredients and proportions, formulating them is always an adventure. The simplest recipes always seem to be the most challenging for me. Everything has to fit together just right or it’s not worth the effort. It’s like my hero, Martin Scorsese said, “There’s no such thing as simple. Simple is hard.”
The good news about this recipe, though, is that while it was hard to get it exactly right, it is very simple. Oh, and it makes one kickass, golden brown, chewy as all get-out oatmeal cookie. Oh my goodness, it is so good. Trust me—I’ve bitten into 27 cookies to get this one exactly right. Quality control, you know?
Like all my One Big cookies, the ingredients here are measured by the spoonful rather than in cups. Oats replace some of the usual flour (duh) and I’ve added a hint of cinnamon for that classic oatmeal cookie flavor. You’ll notice that there’s no egg in this dough, as I prefer to use water for such a tiny portion. As a bonus, no egg means this recipe can easily be made vegan! Just swap vegan butter for the dairy butter ☺️ 
The big secrets to golden, chewy oatmeal cookie success? Before baking, press down on the dough ball to form a puck. This encourages a consistent shape, texture and browning pattern. Nothing terrible will happen if you don’t press down your dough ball, but your cookie likely won’t look like mine.
Also, let the dough rest for five minutes at room temperature before baking. This dough is sticky and might over-spread a bit if baked immediately after mixing. By letting it “set up” for five minutes before baking, we’re ensuring thicker, chewier results.
As far as mix-ins go, use whatever you like. I went for classic oatmeal raisin for photos, but rest assured that I made a few with chocolate chips, too. Nothing but the most thorough cookie testing here at E2 Bakes.
Have a good weekend, y’all. Make yourself a cookie.
One Big Oatmeal Cookie
makes 1 large cookie
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted
2 tablespoons light or dark brown sugar, packed
1 teaspoon water (not cold)
1/8 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons old-fashioned oats
1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon baking soda
pinch of Kosher or sea salt
2 tablespoons raisins (or semisweet chocolate chips), plus more for optional topping
Preheat oven to 350F. Line a baking sheet with parchment. Set aside.
In a small bowl, use a fork to whisk together melted butter and brown sugar. Mix in water and vanilla. Add flour, oats, cinnamon, baking soda and salt, and whisk until a dough forms. Use a silicone spatula or spoon to mix/fold in raisins (or chocolate chips).
Use your hands to form dough into a ball and place on parchment. Dot with additional raisins (for aesthetic purposes), if desired. Use the heel of your hand to press down gently on the dough, just so that the dough is a 1-inch thick puck.
Let dough puck rest on the parchment for 5 minutes before baking.
Bake for 13-14 minutes or until edges have darkened to a golden brown color and center is still a bit pale.
Let cookie cool on the pan for 5-7 minutes before using a spatula to remove it to a plate. Enjoy warm or at room temperature.
Happy New Year! This post is coming at you from the recent past—December 29th—so I hope no new terrible things have happened between then and this posting. 2020 was such a weird year. It started off okay, but quickly devolved to…well, whatever this is. I, for one, am hoping for hope in 2021.
People tell me all the time that they don’t bake because it doesn’t allow for improvising. I’m here to tell you that assumption about baking being all about precision is a big ol’ myth. At least half of the recipes in my archives started from a place of improvisation.
The base recipe for these Coconutdoodles has been on here once already this year. It looks different 
That’s right, a blank slate. A new start. A place to improvise by adding that random half-bag of coconut you have leftover from…well, I don’t remember what, but that’s beside the point. The point (!) is to load up that dough with as much coconut as it can take, then blitz the rest into a powder with some sugar and roll your cookie dough balls in it, 
Coconutdoodles bake up super thick and puffy, and while the sugary coconut-crusted exteriors don’t really toast, they do get extra crispy. Oh, and the insides are super chewy and loaded with an obscene amount of coconut. Ob-scene. I really thought it might be too much, or that it might make the cookies crumbly, but it‘s the exact right amount and these cookies stay soft for days. I know because I ate this whole batch myself. That was weeks ago and I’m still sad that they’re gone.
But you know what? I have this blank slate sugar cookie dough, and I’ve got another half-bag of coconut, and heaven knows I’ve got time to make cookies this weekend. I’ll save my crippling fear of failure for next weekend.
It has been documented on here that I fear making cheesecakes, but that’s not exactly true. I don’t fear cheesecake, I fear a leaking springform pan in a water bath (bain marie). Yes, I know you are supposed to wrap it in foil, but I’ve never seen anyone explain in exacting, painstaking, borderline-dull detail how you should do that so that there is absolutely no risk of leakage. And so, I have still (!!!) never made a traditional baked-in-a-springform cheesecake.
These Mini Mason Jar Chocolate Cheesecakes are SO good, y’all. So. Good. And they come in very cute, water tight, social distancing-approved serving vessels. Super rich, chocolaty filling, Oreo crust *and* no fiddling with a springform pan? Sign me up!
The crusts for these little cheesecakes are just Oreos and melted butter blitzed together in a food processor. Spoon a couple tablespoons into each of your mason jars and give them a few minutes in the oven before adding your filling.
This chocolate cheesecake filling is super chocolaty from melted dark chocolate and cocoa powder, and has a little extra depth from light brown sugar (though granulated works too). The rest of the ingredients are standard cheesecake fare: cream cheese, sour cream, vanilla and an egg.
By far, the most important advice I can give you about making cheesecake is to make absolutely sure that your ingredients are at room temperature. If you’re more organized than I am, you can set your cream cheese out the night before. If you’re like me, just let it hang out (in its packaging) in a bowl of lukewarm tap water for 15 minutes. Throw your egg in there for maximum efficiency.
You can make the filling in your food processor (just wipe it out) or use a mixer. Either way, make sure to give the bowl some taps on the counter and let it rest a few minutes to release any large air bubbles before baking. Then spoon it onto your crusts and bake for about 25 minutes. Let the baked cheesecakes hang out in their water bath for five more minutes before transferring them to a rack to cool completely. This brief step helps them transition from the hot oven to your cooler counters more seamlessly. Cheesecakes are divas, in case you couldn’t already tell.
Once your chocolate cheesecakes hit room temperature, throw them in the fridge for a few hours to get nice and cold. This will seem endless, but will give you plenty of time to dream up toppings. I went for my new favorite 
I won’t lie to you, Mini Mason Jar Chocolate Cheesecakes are a commitment, but take one bite and I promise you’ll agree that theyre entirely worth the effort. They’re super smooth and tangy with a big hit of chocolate, and that Oreo crust…well, I think we can all agree that Oreo crust should probably run for president.
And on that note, enjoy this unofficial last weird weekend of this extremely weird summer. It’ll be two more weeks before I break out the pumpkin, and while that seems like eternity, I hope these chocolate cheesecakes soften the blow.
I have been thinking a lot lately about what it means to celebrate this year. Does it feel like the world is crashing down around us and everything is at least vaguely scary? Sure. Is there still stuff to celebrate? You know it.
In that spirit, today’s post is not actually a recipe, but instead is all about how to make a layer cake fit for a pandemic…er, small group. Sure, you could make a single layer of cake for any occasion you have coming up, but some things require a cake that’s stacked up tall, even if it’s on the miniature side. I’ve been making Mini Layer Cakes for years, for everything from birthdays to baby showers to 
The major specialty item here is a 
Start by using your cutter to cut two small layers out of your larger layer. Make sure that the cutter is as close to the edge of the larger layer as possible, so as to make room for a complete second layer. <—This is important.
Use your ruler to measure your layers for height. There is a good chance your layers will have an incline, as cakes tend to dome a bit as they bake. Grab your serrated knife and even out the top of one layer. Make sure it’s even (or very close) and measure it again—this how tall you want your other layer to be. Repeat that process to even out that second layer, until they’re identical in height (or very close). Mine are all about an inch tall.
Next up, stacking. Swipe a tiny bit of buttercream on your plate or cardboard round, then place one of your layers on top. If you’re a messy froster like me, tuck bits of parchment under the cake all the way around for clean edges. Frost the top of your layer, then stack the second layer on top and press down lightly to adhere.
From here, frost as normal. For me, that means a very light crumb coat (thin layer of buttercream), a 20 minute chill, then a thicker layer of buttercream, piping and decor.
At this point you can serve your cake. I, however, like to let mine sit for an hour or two ahead of serving, just to let everything adhere nicely. This isn’t strictly necessary, but I find it makes slicing easier and prettier. If you’re refrigerating your cake, make sure to let it sit at room temperature for 20-30 minutes before serving.
Other important things? Keep your box as level as possible. I’ve gotten pretty good at keeping them level while walking and riding in cars and on the subway. It’s just a matter of remembering that pretty much everything (your body, a car seat, etc.) has a natural slope, and then carrying/positioning your box in a way to counterbalance that. Also, remember that cold cakes are easier to transport. When delivering cakes, I refrigerate them as soon as I’m done assembling, and then let them come back to room temp while en route to wherever I’m going.
e2 bakes brooklyn 