My stove has been doing the strangest thing for the last couple of years. When the range is warm from the oven or broiler being used, I can’t use the low setting of my front burners without the igniter clicking incessantly. Over time, I’ve figured out that If I turn on one of the back burners while I use the front ones, the clicking will stop, allowing me to simmer a pot of soup without the ticking noise. Not really a problem, I thought.
Well, my husband didn’t see it that way. I finally explained to him what the stove has been doing after he heard the clicking recently. He asked, “How could you live with that?”
The only answer I had was that I didn’t think it was worth mentioning.
My workaround wasn’t good enough for him so he promptly called an appliance technician to fix the problem. He’s wonderful this way. I found the stove issue mildly annoying but not enough to deem it a problem. My husband on the other hand likes for everything to function properly and to be in tip-top condition. If he can’t fix something himself (and he’s quite a handy fellow) he will find someone who can.
So last week the Viking doctor came over, my husband relayed the problem, a part was replaced and my stove was deemed as good as new.
But when I baked these cookies last Sunday then shortly after used the stove to prepare dinner, I discovered that the problem hadn’t been solved at all. This time, I decided to call the appliance repair shop myself. In defense of my husband and the repairman, they’re not familiar with the issue so something might have been lost in translation when the problem was being described. The woman on the other line was puzzled by it, too–the oven and the stove are independent mechanisms, she said, so this shouldn’t happen. Though I knew she believed me, I found myself saying, “I swear this is what really happens”…or something to that effect.
I am guessing that the technician genuinely considered the problem fixed when he found a part that needed replacing–and this is fine by me. His company has been responsive and quick to set up another visit. This time, however, I’ll make sure the oven is warm when he arrives so he might see just what has been causing the igniter problem.
But there’s no sense in letting the warmth of the oven go to waste–it would be the perfect excuse to make a second batch of these delightful cookies. I added cocoa powder to my favorite oatmeal cookie recipe and swapped out the nuts and raisins for butterscotch chips that I bought on a whim a few months ago. I never did find anything appealing to make with the latter so this was sort of a last effort to salvage them before parting with them completely. But they worked here. The cookies are just mildly chocolatey with the soft sweetness coming from the chips.
I might even be willing to wrap a few of them as a gift for the technician. That is if he can solve this clicking mystery for me…
Chocolate-Butterscotch Oatmeal Cookies
- 1/4 pound 1 stick unsalted butter, room temperature
- 1/2 cup brown sugar lightly packed
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar
- 2 eggs room temperature
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder heaping, don't level
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
- 2 1/4 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
- 1 1/2 cups old-fashioned oatmeal
- 3/4 cup butterscotch chips
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment (I've used a hand mixer successfully, too), beat the butter, brown sugar and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed until the mixture is light and fluffy. Turn the mixer down to low and add the vanilla and eggs (one at a time).
In another bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, cocoa powder, cinnamon and salt. Again, with the mixer on low, slowly add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture. Stir in the oats and butterscotch chips just until combined.
Use a small ice-cream scoop to drop 2-inch mounds of dough onto sheet pans lined with parchment paper. Flatten slightly with a damp hand. Bake for 12 to 15 minutes, until lightly browned. Cool on a wire rack before enjoying