One of my goals in life is to be known by the children in my neighborhood (if/when I actually settle down into a neighborhood) as the woman that gives out THE BEST Halloween candy. (Also on the Life Goals list: Befriending an owl and buying an entire wheel of cheese. But I digress.) I and my house will probably seem a little creepy — mostly by nature, and perhaps emphasized by a little effort. There will likely be cats milling around my feet when I answer the door. But those who are brave enough to see past all this will be handsomely rewarded. To avoid silently judging the parenting skills of those whose children grab more than their share of candy or elbow fellow trick-or-treaters out of the way to get first pick, I will package up my candy selections up into little treat bags and distribute them accordingly. When it’s time to do candy inventory later in the evening, kids will get to my treat bag and think, “hmmm……I wonder what kind of candy the creepy cat lady put in here.” And they will be amazed at what they find. Twix. Milky Ways. Nerds. Butterfingers. Three Musketeers. No Necco Wafers. None of those BS orange- and black-wrapped peanut-taffy goo candies. 100% top shelf candy.
(As you can tell, I’ve given this a bit of thought. I’ve even considered offering options, as I was a kid that wanted nothing to do with candy bars containing coconut, peanuts, or almonds. But “do you like nuts?” seems like something I really shouldn’t be asking a child on my doorstep, so it might be best to just keep my candy selections diverse and have faith in the power of trade.)
Sadly, I have yet to live in a place visited by trick-or-treaters. My parents’ home is in the middle of nowhere. My first apartment was in a seedy part of town. I’m not sure why no one visited my second apartment. And here, at my third place, the doorbell has been broken for over three years. I heard my downstairs neighbors answer the door a few times this year, and I wasn’t going to be the weirdo that came barreling down the stairs in her pajamas with a bag of half-eaten candy.
Still, I did buy candy. (Or, to be accurate, J bought me candy, after I repeatedly begged him to because
I’m lazy I was busy.) And I did so intent on making these cookies. And after eating enough candy to make my teeth hurt and my body go into sugar shock, I decided it was time to get down to business.
The great thing about these cookies is that despite the fact that you’re cramming a veritable smorgasbord of sugary delicious candy into them, you can still kind of convince yourself that they’re semi-healthy, if you really try. There’s oats. And peanut butter. And coconut. See? They’re practically breakfast material.
Pretty much any decent nutty/chocolatey candy pieces or candy bars will work in these cookies, so you can adjust them to your liking. I used Reese’s Pieces, Butterfingers, Snickers, Three Musketeers, and Mounds. Out of all of those, I highly recommend using the first two. Having some sort of caramel component in there is great as well, so Snickers/Twix/Milky Ways are also recommended additions. But no matter what you choose, it isn’t likely you’ll be disappointed. It’s a cookie filled with candy. For it to be gross, it would have to defy the laws of nature.
(adapted from What Megan’s Making)
yield: approx. 4 dozen cookies
- 2/3 cup of butter
- 1 1/4 cups of dark brown sugar
- 3/4 cup of granulated sugar
- 1 1/2 cups of chunky peanut butter
- 3 eggs, beaten
- 4 cups of rolled oats
- 1/2 cup of shredded coconut
- 2 teaspoons baking soda
- 2 1/4 cups of candy pieces and/or chopped candy bars
Melt the butter and pour into a large bowl. Stir in the brown sugar, granulated sugar, and peanut butter. When the mixture is cool enough that it won’t cook the eggs, add in the eggs and stir until just combined. Then, in order, stir in baking soda, coconut, and candy bits. Add the oats one cup at a time, stirring until the oats are mixed in before adding the next cup. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and chill in the fridge for at least two hours.
Preheat the oven to 350°. Drop dough on parchment-lined baking sheets with a large spoon, making sure the dough is fairly well packed. (I used my hand to form the dough on the spoon, and then placed it on the sheet.) Bake for 10–12 minutes, or until the cookies are a light golden brown. (Keep on eye on them, as they can burn rather easily.) Let them rest for a few minutes on the sheet before transferring to a cooling rack.