When I pulled out this recipe card and read through it, I decided to test it using chocolate chips as an add-in option instead of raisins. My kids (who were coming to dinner) would be happy with that choice. The question was, would I?
Historically, I haven’t been a fan of chocolate-orange-flavored anything. I’ve wanted to like the combo, and there was no reason I wouldn’t. I’m not a picky eater, and I like chocolate with just about everything else–peanut butter, mint, hazelnuts . . . I like it with other fruits, too, like strawberries and bananas. I can even stomach a pretzel (salted cardboard, anyone?) if it’s covered in chocolate. So why not chocolate and orange? It’s a mystery.
There are plenty of reasons I wanted to like it. This, for example:
I like everything else about chocolate oranges–their solid heft, the way the segments come apart like real oranges, and that each segment is molded to mimic plump pulp. And they arrive in stores around Christmas time, just like the orange that would appear in the toe of Grandma's stocking every year. They're magical and also bleh.
Here’s another reason I wanted to like it:
The sight of this candy brings back waves of Christmas nostalgia. When I was young, we’d receive at least a couple of boxes every year as neighbor gifts, and the rest of the family devoured them with delight. I would usually take a bite of one to see if my tastebuds had morphed into chocolate-orange-loving ones since the year before, but that Christmas miracle never occurred.
So, I approached the cookie-making process with trepidation. The recipe calls for shortening, which meant there would be no buttery richness to mellow out the bitter tang of the chocolate and orange. I beat the sugar and shortening and then added the eggs.
Those two eggs plus a third cup of orange juice seemed like a lot of liquid for a batch of cookie dough. Would it be too runny? There was no way to know unless I kept going.
Next, I zested the orange, (a task made easier by a microplane) and found that it equaled 2 teaspoons, which was exactly what the recipe called for. The same thing happened with the juice. When reamed out, the orange yielded the exact amount that I needed.
Next, I sifted together the dry ingredients and added the zest. As I did so, I wondered how the spices would affect the chocolate orange flavor. Would they blend or clash?
After whisking together the dry ingredients, I added them to the bowl of the mixer along with the oats and juice. A generous cup of chocolate chips followed.
Turned out, I didn’t need to worry about the dough being too thin. Once combined, it was quite stiff. I portioned it onto a cookie sheet using my medium scoop and had a momentary flashback of Grandma scooping her dough out using two spoons. Ah, progress.
I knew the dough wouldn’t spread much because it’s made with shortening, so I decided to do a mini-test. I left one pan of cookies rounded while the dough balls on the other pan received a gentle press. Both pans baked up in the specified 10-12 minutes, and when I took them out, both looked delicious.
But . . . how would they taste?
Amazing.
We tucked into them while we were decorating our Christmas tree, and I found myself back at the cookies more than once. The whole family did. Of course, I had to taste the fat ones and the thin ones. Both were equally delectable in all their chocolate and orange glory with subtle hints of spice. I did make a few cookies with raisins too, and they were good, but incredible as it is, I preferred the chocolate ones.
A Christmas miracle had occurred! Now, I’m off to buy a chocolate orange, and we’ll see how far the miracle extends.
You'll want to make these Christmasy Orange Oatmeal cookies yourself. Just click on the link below the recipe card to download and print it out.