The recipe called for 1/2 teaspoon globs. Our cookie scoops only go down to 1 tablespoon, so we winged it. It's not like it really matters, anyway. None of this matters. They're potato chip "cookies," man. It's the end of the world.
Elapsed time: not enough. Assuming cookie goodness is proportional to cooking time, these aren't likely to be good until, say, the heat-death of the universe.
On the upside, though, they are homemade. Homemade sin, but homemade nonetheless. It was better than this King Choc*Nut we found at Fubonn.
The "cookies" weren't that bad, really, kinda salty and really buttery with a strange, almost bitter, after-taste. The funny thing, though, was we found ourselves hating them more and more as time went by, even though we might not have been consuming the "cookies" during the intervening time. (e.g. we hated them, slept fifteen hours, then really hated them) So, we eventually threw them out. The next day, we threw out the batter. Day after that, we drank 'till we forgot the recipe. The day after that we cut the oven into 2" cubes with a thermic lance, dissolved all the bowls and cutlery in aqua regia, and nuked our house from orbit. It was the only way to be sure.
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