If someone told me a week ago that I’d be making peanut butter cookies with love and intent, I would’ve laughed. Me? Peanut butter? That sticky, nutty stuff I’ve avoided my whole life? Nope. Not me. But then, one simple question changed everything:
“Mom, what kind of cookies do you love?”
I asked this expecting something classic—oatmeal raisin, shortbread, maybe even a ginger snap. But no. My mother, the beautiful enigma that she is, looked me dead in the eye and said, “Peanut butter.”
Now, I don’t like peanut butter. And by “don’t like,” I mean I’ve spent most of my life actively avoiding it. But I do love my mom, and I accepted the challenge. If my mom wants peanut butter cookies, she’s getting the best peanut butter cookies ever made—even if I have to brown some butter and pour my peanut-butter-hating heart into every swirl, beat, and fold.
These cookies became more than a recipe—they became a mission. I wanted my mom to take a bite and feel like peanut butter cookies were destined to exist just for her. Why does she even like peanut butter cookies? She doesn’t know. But after tasting these, she might finally have an answer.
As I swirled butter in the pan and whipped peanut butter like a love letter, something unexpected happened. I started to feel…peaceful? Joyful? Maybe peanut butter isn’t so bad after all. These cookies are nutty, caramelized, and deeply comforting—like a warm hug from my mom, minus the peanut butter fingerprints.
So, will I reach for peanut butter cookies on my own from now on? I can’t say for sure. But I can say this: when you cook with love, even the things you dislike have a way of surprising you.