Recipe Source: St. Louis Globe-Democrat
Year: Not Sure – Possible 1930s
Recipe: Big Lard MolAsses Cookies
Music to cook by: Faithfully (a Perry I actually like)
“Cook with lard,” Kevinfucias the Mechanic exclaimed. “It will make you a fisher of men!” OK, so that’s not exactly what he said. His comment was more along the lines of, “if you’d start cooking with lard, you’d be married within months.” I think it’s more like if I start cooking with lard I’ll wake up with a third butt cheek (aka lard ass). Sorry, there will be no pictures of a third butt cheek, but if I get married…………..WATCH OUT!!!
I have never in my life cooked with lard. Though I’ve eaten it, I wasn’t even sure what lard was. I know a couple of lard asses, but that’s different. Note: I’m pretty sure the term “lard ass” was the precursor for the term “junk in the trunk.” Turns out, lard is your basic pig fat-ola. Oh………and…… hey, guess what? There is a lardbutt.com where you can get your own lard butt t-shirt. Sorry, I’m not sanitizing my lard ass comments. Is saying “butt” really better?
So, as you can see, I made spice cookies…………with lard. I’ve flavored the recipe title a bit. From hence forward the recipe shall be known as the Big Lard MolAsses Cookies.
Since I’m such a bad cook, I created a “plan b” to put into effect if the cookies were inedible; thus, the Big Lard MolAsses Cookie Frisbee® was born. I figured if the cookies bombed, The Mechanics and I could play Frisbee® (I am expecting a phone call from Wham-O® any minute now). The advertisements for the Big Lard MolAsses Cookie Frisbee® would be fun eh? A crackless MolAsses Frisbee®!
Making the cookies was easy except for the fact it took two years for me to pour one cup of molasses.
While we’re waiting on it to pour, let me share a story with you. A few years ago I had to have a mole removed off of my butt (shhh…don’t tell anyone). I had to leave work early for the procedure. Somehow, word got out among my coworkers what I was having done. When I returned to work the next day, there was a bottle of molasses (get it? mole asses) sitting in front of the door to my office, Cubicle Caverns. I work with some demented, but funny, people. THE MOLASSES IS POURED! BACK TO THE COOKIES! The dough ended up resembling poop. With no scent of chocolate wafting through the air, I was hesitant to taste it. In the spirit of my experimentation, however, I knew I had to be adventuresome and try it. It was pretty decent! I would rank it a 7 on the batter lick-ability scale.
With the batter licked and approved, I made the cookies. Thankfully, they came out of the oven with great promise. After eating one, then two, then three………..I knew they were presentable, so off to work we went.
The Mechanics approved of the cookies………..not an exuberant approval, but approval nevertheless. While noshing on Big Lard MolAsses Cookies in Cubicle Caverns, the topic of lard prompted Kevin the Mechanic to launch into a diatribe about his time spent working at a meat-packing factory. He went into gruesome detail about leading pigs to slaughter and drinking veal blood. I’m now ready to be a vegetarian AND the president of Ladies Against Lard (LAL). Seriously. My escape out of the pig-a-lating horror-story telling was to demand we go try out the aerodynamics of the Big Lard MolAsses Cookie Frisbee®.
Look at that baby fly!!!! A toy you can fling and then eat…………..yeah, I’m fixin’ to make the millions……………..AND CATCH A BIG LARD ASS HUSBAND!!! Woot.