It was a surprisingly sober night when, halfway through a pint of delicious Ben & Jerry's Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough, the thought struck me: sure, this was tasty and all, but what would a Ben & Jerry's cookie actually taste like? Would the dough even bake into a cookie? Or had B & J created some sort of ice cream-exclusive cookie wonderfood, like Flubber with sugar, that thrives in cold and heat without changing form?
Each of the pints I sifted through had about 20 little gobs of cookie dough, which were roughly the diameter of this penny that I may or may not have accidentally put in my mouth. But are they actually, you know, cookie dough? Or are they some sort of weird, cookie dough-flavored concoction?
I want to believe, but I've been hurt in the past, mainly by those gross old chocolate-coated cookie dough candies that were basically Raisinets, but with powdered dough. I bought them at a movie theater before The Matrix Revolutions. The day was steeped in disappointment.
Success! Granted, the structural integrity of chocolate chip cookies is dependent on the chips, and, since the majority of the chips in the ice cream are dispersed throughout, these were a little deflated. But they tasted and felt like Cookie Crisp cookies, only not crispy and prone to burglary.
Giant dough ball
The mini cookies were pretty good, so I had to try a big cookie. All wadded up, the dough chunks make for a nice little boulder. Obviously, it was bigger than a penny. Less obvious is why I put the damn penny in my mouth again.
Success again! It's essentially the same as the minis, but less flat and way more flavorful. If somebody said this was made with store-bought dough, I'd absolutely believe it, then laugh and inform them that most store-bought dough doesn't cost $4 per cookie. Then I'd patiently listen as they scolded me for wasting money and ice cream.
Having established that the dough is real and will make real cookies, I became extremely curious to see what would happen if I just dumped a pint in the oven. Would it turn into some sort of cookie brittle? Would it catch on fire? Would my wife get angry that I ruined a pan and made the whole house smell like burnt milk?
Ok, that doesn't look very appetizing. It kind of looks like vomit, or maybe a pizza that used clam chowder instead of crust. The burnt edges stink. But you know what it tastes like? Pudding. Hot, delicious pudding. Vanilla pudding, to be precise, with half-cooked chocolate chip cookies taking the place of those booger-y tapioca balls old people like.
And it's delicious. I ate the whole thing, and you know what? It's gonna happen again. As soon as my wife goes out of town. She hates burnt milk stank.
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Andy Kryzais a senior editor on Thrillist's Food & Drink team. To atone for his wasteful ways in this experiment, he bought a homeless dude a pint of Cherry Garcia. Follow him to guilt-driven philanthropy via @apkryza.