Welcome to another installment of Tea and Cookies. I like to think of these recipes, with their emphasis on cozy yummy-ness, as a way to add to the mystery reading “experience.”
This time, I have a family favorite for you, and a story to go along with it.
The Haystacks Story:
My mom is the best cookie baker, ever. During the Christmas season, she would really shine: our house became an all-out bake-off of epic proportions. We rivaled the Nabisco factory a few miles down the road (I grew up just outside of Philadelphia). I’m surprised the zoning guys didn’t come knocking on our door. Are you running a bakery on these premises, ma’am?
Yummy smells permeated the house from the day after Thanksgiving (for us, “Black Friday” meant we’d burned a batch), until a few days before Christmas. Enormous tins and reams of wax paper took over the garage as Mom stockpiled enough cookies for friends, family, neighbors, and the zombie apocalypse. Potential recipients (NOT the zombies), coincidentally came out of the woodwork just in time to remind her of their existence, sometimes with special requests. Seriously?
Sounds so Christmas-y, right? For sure, it was fun, and memorable, but you know there’s a dark side to this story, bwahaha. And, no, it wasn’t the size of our waistlines, which miraculously didn’t expand to rival Santa’s. Maybe we were a leetle bit sick of cookies because we were around them so much.
The major drawback: it was a ton of work. As a little kid, I didn’t realize this. My priority was to wheedle as many cooling cookies from the table as I could. Once I got old enough to be of practical help, however, I could see the stress involved, the desire to meet – or exceed – expectations, year after year. But we were all in it together (my dad, too: he was the wash-up guy). There were a lot of in-jokes, and times when we were incredibly silly, in that punchy-tired sort of way. Folks enjoyed the cookies so much. It was a tradition.
When I was old enough, there were certain simple recipes my mom would trust me to make on my own, during the afternoons when I was home from school and she was still at work. Haystacks was one of those. It was only three ingredients – chow mein noodles, spanish peanuts, butterscotch morsels. There were no microwaves back then, but a pot on the stove to melt the butterscotch wasn’t that much more difficult. What could go wrong?
One afternoon, it was my job to make the haystacks. It was my first time solo, and Mom had left out the recipe, and all the ingredients.
I was sailing along until I got to the Spanish peanuts, also called (although I didn’t know it at the time) “redskin” peanuts. These nuts didn’t look anything like peanuts I’d seen before: they had these peeling flakes of reddish skin on them. That didn’t look too appetizing, in my mind.
I checked the recipe, again. Nope, it didn’t say anything about skins on peanuts. She must have gotten them on discount.
Sigh. I was going to have to peel them. Every blessed one.
Finally, exhausted but satisfied with the results, I had the last batch hardening on wax paper when my mom came home from work.
Proud of my efforts, I showed her the bowl of cast-off peanut skins and talked about that time-intensive extra step. Could she get the regular kind next time?
Her face went from confused to surprised to laugh-out-loud.
“You weren’t supposed to peel them! We pay extra for them to come that way!”
Apparently, spanish peanuts are prized for their colored skins and extra flavor. Who knew?
We had a good laugh over that one.
Nowadays, spanish peanuts are less common in the stores anyway, so for this recipe, go for the regular salted peanuts (not dry-roasted, they taste kind of weird in butterscotch). Besides, peeling them takes forever! 😀
12 oz butterscotch morsels
3/4 cup Spanish peanuts (regular peanuts can be substituted)
1 and 1/2 cups chow mein noodles
Melt morsels in microwave, according to package directions. Mix in noodles and peanuts until fully integrated. Drop in heaping spoonfuls (not too big) onto a cookie sheet lined with waxed paper. Refrigerate until firm, about 1 hour. Makes 2 dozen clusters.
These aren’t exactly cookies – you can tell I’m stretching the definition a bit – but because of their sweetness, they pair really well with a crisp green tea, or maybe a cinnamon herbal chai.
What fun stories do you have to share about baking? I’d love to hear from you.
Until next time,
26 thoughts on “Butterscotch Haystacks, and a story”
I love butterscotch, takes me back to long car trips where my mom always had a bag of them ready for restless kids that enjoyed kicking the back of her seat. Of course, my mid-section likes keeping them around these days, but the recipe is simply beyond tempting. Great story, Kathy 🙂
Thanks, Gene! Yeah, I’m a big butterscotch fan, too, especially since I was allergic to chocolate as a kid. (Fortunately, I grew out of that one. Whew!). So glad you stopped by. 😀
You were allergic to chocolate??!! Can you feel my horror from out here on the West Coast?
…and I lived to tell the tale!
Kathy – Oh, my gosh, I know the unbelievably wonderful aroma of that Nabisco factory! I know exactly the one you mean! It sounds as though you and your family had such a wonderful cookie tradition that bound you together, too. Thanks for sharing that story and thanks for the yummy-sounding recipe.
That Nabisco factory was pretty amazing, wasn’t it? Go past it on Roosevelt Blvd at a certain time of day, and – whammo! Cookie incense. Nothing quite like it. 🙂
I’ve always loved those butterscotch morsels! You got me smiling at your story–black friday meant you burned a batch! 🙂 Thanks for sharing Kathy!
You bet, Coleen! Thanks so much for checking it out!
That is a very funny story, Kathy! My first baking alone experience (when my mother left me alone to make yummy cookies for my daddy), was not so good. Not sure what happened, because I knew how to read, but I put in a cup of salt and a teaspoon on sugar. My dad was a trooper though and ate a couple of them. At the time I thought he ate them all because they disappeared, but I later learned they ended up in the trash. I guess as a youngster they thought that throwing them away might traumatize me too much or something.
Needless to say, my mother kept a closer eye on me the next time I wanted to make a surprise treat for my dad. And who can blame her really.
w/a Jansen Schmidt
Aww, that’s so sweet, Patricia! You’re dad sounds a lot like mine!
Holy hilarious! I can’t believe you peeled the Spanish peanuts! OMG! Love that! Great story! Be sure to run again around the holidays! 😉
Hahaha, you should have seen my mom’s jaw drop at the time. Priceless.
And what a tedious task. Glad it’s not a normal part of making the recipe!
We were a baking family too – no wonder you and I get on like a house on fire. I’m currently figuring out which cookies *I* can’t live without at the holidays and experimenting with making them gluten free. 🙂
I remember some of your baking stories, Jenny! Especially your Almond Roca one. (Here it is, for those of you who haven’t read it yet: http://jennyhansenauthor.wordpress.com/2011/12/19/when-candy-making-isnt-so-sweet/ ). Maybe we were separated at birth, LOL. 😀
I am totally owned by butterscotch. We may try these.
Interesting about the noodles — unfortunately, that makes it out of the question for Cathy, so it would just be for me and the kids.
We have made a really delicious butterscotch pudding — using real scotch. Only problem is that if you cook with it, you cannot drink it. A real dilemma.
“Totally owned by butterscotch” – I like that, Bill! Hope you get to try the recipe. Perhaps there is a gluten-free substitute for the chow mein noodles.
LOL Terrific story, Kathy. And I LOVE haystack cookies. My family makes chocolate ones every year around Christmastime. Stories, food and baking go so well together. Really enjoying these posts!
Thanks, August! Baking stories are a long-standing tradition, aren’t they? Those chocolate ones sound yummy – we didn’t try those, because I was allergic to chocolate, but I think the recipe variant is called “Ting-A-Lings” – weird, huh? I really appreciate the blog support!
Funny story about peeling the peanuts 😀 I had a similar experience when I was a kid and my mom wanted me to wash the potatoes for the first time. I didn’t realize that the brown on them was not dirt but the peel. So I scrubbed and scrubbed until I had washed away all the brown. Took a long time and I felt silly afterwards.
Thank you for the recipe. Butterscotch sounds divine.
Oh, my goodness, Reetta! I can see that happening! Your experience sounds much more arduous than mine! So glad you stopped by. 😀
LOVE it. That is totally something I would do Kathy. LOL!! Stellar story and the cookies looks absolutely amazing. And like something I could handle baking. I’m definitely going to try them. Your posts are filling up my recipe cards….YUMMY!!!
Oh, that’s great! Let me know how they turn out. 😀
Oh yes and a story.
Mom, me and my brother decided to make a new recipe of cookies. French lace cookies http://www.tastebook.com/recipes/1542569-French-Lace-Cookies?full_recipe=true. We couldn’t wait to roll them up into things of beauty. Odd though….they came out like round chunky BRICKS! The things were as hard as hockey pucks. Not the delicately rolled visions of wonder we had hoped for.
Turns out, Mom accidentally doubled the flour….LOL! We since had much success!
Hahaha…I love those kind of stories! Thanks for sharing yours, Natalie!
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