That is why this article in the New York Times this week, at any other point this year, would have immediately driven me to drop everything, make dough and will myself not to eat it while it was supposed to be "resting" in the fridge. I somehow would have found it in me to let [at least most of] the dough rest for the 36 hours before scooping it out onto baking sheets and gleefully sprinkling sea salt on top. Yet, because of this bar exam, I could do no such thing. I could not taste the dough after twelve, after twenty-four, after thirty-six hours; I could not eat, um, just one of them before giving the rest away to my dear, dear friends (because yes, that is precisely what I would do with a batch of warm, gooey, salt-topped cookies). There is no time for 36 hours of resting time and scooping out and baking of cookies. And for that, NY Board of Law Examiners, my ass thanks you. Oh yea, my thighs thank you too.
If any of you have found the time to make the recipe, please do let me know how it turns out!*
* Translation: Please find the time to make this, and allow me the pleasure of discovering for myself how they turned out by sending them in a care package delivered to my door.
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