Everybody's doing it. orangette got me thinking, and then I happened to check a blog I haven't visited in awhile, and I had to giggle. It's not just me. The funniest thing is that Ashley suggested just what we ended up doing. Throw your basic tollhouse recipe in the fridge for awhile and see what happens.

These cookies are the first thing I ever baked. I can remember way, way back to some of my littlest years "helping" my mom do the dishes after she baked these cookies. I would stand on a stool at the sink in the first kitchen I remember and move dishes from one side to the other, sloshing bubbles and water. Once, taking a last taste of dough from the spoon to discover that we'd already put soap in it. One of those times, not necessarily that soapy moment, was when I had a fleeting childhood epiphany. Those moments of awareness so shockingly clear that the memory sticks and stays. I remember it. I remember thinking, I'm not really helping my mom. She's just letting me play here. The smell of that cookie dough took me right back.

These are good cookies to have around. When I was a child, we kept them in a blue cookie jar. Brighter than cobalt but not as deep, just a bold satisfying blue, tall enough with a fat tummy and chips around the edge of the lid. The fact that it wasn't see-through was a good thing. Another distinct memory, from the house where I spent most of my growing-up, was coming home from school and gasp! Suddenly remembering, we have cookies! Lift the lid (the familiar heaviness and clink of ceramic on ceramic), and yes! We have cookies.

Just as good as I remember, perhaps made better with the extra chilling (let's face it, we only made it four hours!), but definitely the sea salt. I'm considering some for breakfast. We DVR'd the late parts of the Olympics, and Callum is planning on being an Olympic swimmer. So along with cookies for breakfast, I'm also considering what to wear when he's on the medal stand, cause you know the camera will pan to me in the audience.