Chocolate Chip Cookie A story of snobbery, arrogance, and lots ofsalted butter. Growing up, there was one cookie, and one cookie only, in my mind and in my heart: my grandmother's Cowboy Cookie. Correction: there was only one cookie recipe, not one cookie—you can never have just one Cowboy Cookie. Cowboy Cookies came in batches of approximately 400, the already large yield doubled and placed in a Tupperware container on the buffet table of my grandma's house for 13 grandchildren to reach into endlessly until they vanished. They're the cookies my grandmother makes, and my mom, and my aunt. Like that famous patriarchy-laced chicken dish, Cowboy Cookies have apparently lured men into our family. They're really just oatmeal chocolate chip cookies, but who cares? In my family, they're magic. Cowboy Cookies were the first stop on my journey to becoming a chocolate chip cookie snob. As a small jerk, I'd turn up my nose at anything in a package, and only begrudgingly at...