Usually I take the time to build these posts up, but there can be no pretense this time. I have officially undertaken and failed yet another Ninja Turtles baking attempt.
If you’re new, you may want to re-visit previous Failed Ninja Turtle Baking Attempts (TM), such as that time I tried to re-create Ninja Turtle Pudding Pies, and that time I made a Ninja Turtle cake.
I don’t even know why I do this to myself. Honestly, I thought my well of Ninja Turtle baked goods had dried up. Then I came across the official set of 1990 cookie cutters in the thrift store. I was pretty excited just by the fact that all four of the Turtles were present and accounted for. I was disturbed by the fact that they were all covered in a sticky black film, which I would have photographed, but I thought it was better if the wife never saw any evidence of it.
But let’s take a closer look at these Turtles after they’ve been dipped in boiling water, scrubbed-down with industrial-grade soap, and quarantined for forty-eight hours.
Keep in mind that these aren’t bootleg hack-job Turtle cookie cutters. These are the officially licensed Mirage Studios Ninja Turtle cookie cutters. It’s one of the reasons I love the old-school Turtle stuff, because it was like there was no standard or quality control to how the Turtles should be drawn. And nevermind that the cookie cutters themselves have impossibly tiny and detailed moldings that will never ever show up on the actual cookie.
I looked up recipes for cut-out sugar cookies involving laborious tasks like cracking eggs and melting butter and measuring flour. Somehow, every time I do that, the kitchen ends up a disaster zone. But this time I had a plan to bypass all of that. This time I’d outsmarted myself.
My brilliant plan was using pre-made dough and a foil pan. No messing around with flour and the rolling pin and cookie sheets. No messing around with countless bowls and mixing instruments. The only challenge was opening that cookie dough. Seriously, it’s like hermetically clamped down with pieces of metal on the sides. I guess you’re supposed to just barbarically stab into it. Fine by me.
Little did I know that stabbing open that roll of cookie dough would be the last hint of joy I would experience. Perhaps ever.
Like looming storm clouds that appear out of no where, the frustration quickly set in. I carefully chose the Michaelangelo cookie cutter to use first, pressing it into the dough firmly. I lifted it up, fully expecting to see a perfectly-shaped Michaelangelo before me. Instead, the cookie was completely stuck inside of the mold.
So I got the flour out to try and de-stick everything. The cookie dough was sticking to everything — the wax paper, the spatula, the cutters, my hands, and jesus, it’s already on my shirt. And great, my first challenge of not making a mess had now failed.
But you know what? Flour is useless. I needed an emergency intervention. I needed my big guns. I desperately grabbed the cooking spray.
I hosed everything down. The Turtles were lubed up like glazed Christmas hams. And so were the foil pans. And the wax paper. And I hope the wife isn’t planning on cooking anything this week because I used half the can. And technically, it achieved exactly the result I wanted. Instead of having sticky cookie dough everywhere, I had oily globs everywhere. The kitchen, and the air inside of it, glistened. I felt like an angel. Or maybe I had just breathed too many of the fumes in.
Well now I’d really screwed up. Apparently oily globs don’t hold their form very well.
That’s Raphael. Just trust me. It is.
At this point, I just stuck them in the oven. I was covered in flour and grease. The kitchen was a nightmare. The break and bake cookies had brought me to my knees.
Still Raphael. And Leonardo, Donatello, and Michaelangelo. See them? They’re all there.