Grammie does know best, sometimes.

The original recipe.

I was craving something sweet a few weeks ago, which is rare and I was sick so I didn't want to leave the house to get ingredients. Sadly, I had no eggs and very little sugar so my options were limited. I was also missing my Grammie who lives in Jersey. I haven't seen her in over a year and she's not doing so well health-wise. So naturally, I opted to make her no-bake cookies. She used to send me a care package a couple times a year in college full of these, might I add a couple more care packages a year then my mother ever sent me. Jeanne always had time to send my friends strawberry bread, but I guess my packages were just lost in the mail. And Jeanne still sends my college friends strawberry bread, twelve years later. But I digress... cookies.

Step one. Cut a hole in the box. Oh wait. Wrong thing.

These are pretty straightforward. I made a few alterations because of the lack of ingredients in my kitchen, but they stilled turned out super-delicious. The picture shows Grammie's original recipe. Here's what I did differently: Subbed butter for margarine (homie doesn't do margarine), used a hodgepodge of sugar in the raw and brown sugar to make the 2 cups sugar (I don't recommend this, mine turned out a bit soft), subbed coconut milk for evaporated milk, changing the equivalent (I just googled the substitute and google (so smart!) told me how much to use).

So basically you measure into a medium-sized pot the cocoa, butter/margarine, sugar and milk of your choice and bring it to a boil for one minute. Add the remaining ingredients - crunchy peanut butter, oats and vanilla. Stir until it loses its shine and then drop onto wax paper by the tablespoon. Let 'em cool for at least ten minutes and dig in. Then go call your grandma and tell her you love her. Send her some cookies.

No bakes. A little runny, a lot delicious.

I remember my Grammie trying to teach me so much more in the kitchen when I was kid, but 12 year-old me was such a feminist that she wanted nothing to do with the kitchen. Although it was pretty cool that I learned how to kill lobsters. Such a thrill. I got to stand on a chair and drop them into the water (so maybe I wanted to be the next Julia Child before I even knew it) I was the oldest grandchild, and the only girl so she expected me to help. I made it a point to loudly disagree and spew my limited knowledge of gender equality whenever I had the opportunity.

It's quite the paradox I find myself in these days. 34 year-old Marisa wants to kick 12 year-old Marisa's ass for not listening more, or wanting to be in the kitchen more, while 12 year-old Marisa would totally kick 34 year-old Marisa's ass for wanting to spend so much time in the kitchen, and willingly doing so. I just wish my Grammie lived closer and was cognisant enough to be with me in the kitchen so she could teach me a few more things. I'm finally ready to listen.