Chonky Boys: The Chocolate Chip Cookie Ice Cream Sandwiches that Scream Summer!

Featuring my thick and nuggy Chonky Boy Chocolate Chip Cookies, these ice cream sandwiches are the stuff that summer dreams are made of.  If you've ever had the Cookie Ice Cream Sandwich at Disneyland , you are going to LOVE these!  These big and bold chocolate chip cookies are based on a recipe from my culinary school studies at Auguste Escoffier, but with a few modifications to give them that Jennuine touch.  They make the perfectas book for a fat slice of real vanilla bean ice cream.  And those mini chips?  You just gotta have that extra cronch! Thank goodness this recipe only makes 8 sandwiches, otherwise I would be eating them for breakfast lunch and dinner.  This way, my big family can help save me from my inner child diet-saboteur.   Print With Image Without Image Chonky Boy Chocolate Chip Cookie Ice Cream Sandwiches Yield: 8 Author: Jenn Erickson Loaded with chocolate chips and buttery, brown-sugary vanilla flavor, these mall-sized cookies form a perfect partnership with a


Dear Food,

I hate you.  No, wait, I love you!  You are tasty, cozy, cooling, warming, complex, powerful, subtle, a delicious art form, and possess the power to evoke memories and bring people together.  At the moment, however, I resent you. 

It is because of you and your irresistible deliciousness that I was not able to fit in to my cute little vintage WW II nurse costume this Halloween.  That's how I ended up in my husband's Tigger costume.  It had been in the garage for several years and had thereby accumulated more dust than the surface of Mars.  Halloween was a cold night and the Tigger costume looked warm.  After all, it's made of heavy-duty fleece and is made for a 6' 5" man.  I saw warmth and comfort and I went for it.  Nevermind the fact that I'm asthmatic and that the two greatest triggers for said affliction are dust and cold weather.  What was I thinking?  Apparently I wasn't! 

So I spent the week following Halloween with a head full of snot goblins, which, as always, eventually made their way down to the party in my lungs.  Huffing and wheezing my way through the week I finally had the good sense to call my doctor and request some albuterol refills for my at-home-nebulizer (imagine the caterpillar in Alice in Wonderland meets ET when he's hooked up to tubes in the big white tent).  Within about fifteen minutes I went from pallid and pathetic back to feeling like myself again.

So it was at that moment that I realized how lucky we are to be living in the age of modern medicine!  With all the talk lately about our broken healthcare system, the National plan, the hospital lay-offs, the H1/N1 vaccine controversy, the high prices we pay for healthcare and insurance, and the corruption in the insurance industry, it's easy to lose sight of the fact that despite these big issues, we are darn lucky to be living in the 21st century, with all its advances in medicine!

With Thanksgiving just around the corner, I can't help thinking of those poor Pilgrims (and even more so, the Native Americans that were wiped out by our Euro-germs).  Had I been a Pilgrim, I wouldn't have made it past the age of fourteen.  At fourteen, my appendix burst.  The discovery wasn't made until a few days later after the deflated organ began to go toxic.  Had my mom not taken me to the hospital when she did, wherein an x-ray revealed that I needed immediate surgery, I would have been a goner. 

If somehow I had miraculously lived to see another day in Plymouth, I would have certainly died half a dozen times due to Asthma. 

And if by the grace of God, the Massachusetts air was allergen free and thereby gentle on my fragile lungs, I would have definitely been one of those poor women who died in childbirth!  This is probably TMI, but Madeleine (bless her little heart) would simply not come out my narrow pelvic area, so an emergency caesarean was in order.  I am so, so lucky to be alive and so is she!

For all its problems, ills, and corruptions, I am still very thankful that modern medicine has allowed me to enjoy not 14, not 25, and not 30, but 37 Thanksgivings...and COUNTING!

vintage postcard of Burial Hill, Plymouth, MA

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