Well my friends, January is over.

Which means we’ve all given up on resolutions, right?

If you’re still walking the straight and narrow ketogenic path, I salute you. Truly. But I also feel it is my duty as a baked-goods enabler to tell you that this cake might be the thing that knocks you clean off it. Gently. Lovingly. With cocoa and cream cheese.

Because here’s the thing: this red velvet marble loaf doesn’t care what time it is.
Can it be dessert for your Valentine? Yes.
Can it be breakfast? Also yes.
Can it be sliced thinly, eaten standing at the counter, and followed by the words “I’ll just have a bite”? Absolutely.

And with a few very important high altitude tweaks (less leavening, a little more flour—because the mountains demand respect), you are going to make everyone in your house fall in love with you. Even the cat.

(Please don’t feed it to her.)

I love a loaf cake because it feels low-pressure. No layers. No leveling. No “why is my cake leaning like it had a long night?” energy. Just one cozy pan, a dramatic red velvet swirl moment, and a thick slather of cream cheese frosting that forgives all sins—dietary and otherwise.

This cake is tender but sturdy, lightly chocolatey but not aggressive, and festive in a “February is doing her best” sort of way. It’s Valentine’s Day-adjacent without being pink and precious. It’s the cake you make when you want to show love but also want leftovers.

So let’s bake.

High Altitude Red Velvet Marble Loaf

with Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

For the loaf:

• ½ cup unsalted butter, softened

• ¾ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• ½ cup sour cream (full fat, please)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

Dry ingredients:

• 2 cups all-purpose flour (high altitude adjustment)

• 1 Tbsp cornstarch

• 1 tsp cocoa powder

• ¾ tsp baking powder (reduced for altitude)

• ½ tsp baking soda

• ½ tsp salt

Red velvet swirl:

• 1 Tbsp cocoa powder

• 1 Tbsp milk

• 1–2 tsp red food coloring (gel preferred)

Instructions

1. Prep your pan & oven
   Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease and line a 9x5 loaf pan with parchment, leaving an overhang for dramatic cake removal later.

2. Cream butter & sugar
   In a large bowl, beat the butter and sugar until light and fluffy—about 2–3 minutes. This is not the time to rush. January already rushed us enough.

3. Add eggs & dairy
   Beat in eggs one at a time, scraping the bowl as needed. Mix in sour cream and vanilla until smooth.

4. Mix dry ingredients
   In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cornstarch, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt.

5. Combine
   Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and mix just until combined. Do not overmix. We want tender loaf, not emotional support bread.

6. Create the marble magic
   Scoop about ⅓ of the batter into a small bowl. Stir in the cocoa powder, milk, and red food coloring until smooth and gloriously red.

7. Layer & swirl
   Alternate spoonfuls of vanilla and red velvet batter into the loaf pan. Use a knife to gently swirl—think “romantic ribbon,” not “aggressive stirring.”

8. Bake
   Bake for 55–65 minutes, tenting loosely with foil after 45 minutes if the top browns too quickly. A toothpick should come out with a few moist crumbs.

9. Cool
   Let cool in the pan for 15 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely before frosting. (This is the hardest part. I believe in you.)

Cream Cheese Frosting

Ingredients

• 4 oz cream cheese, softened

• 2 Tbsp unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup powdered sugar

• ½ tsp vanilla extract

• Pinch of salt

Instructions

Beat everything together until smooth, fluffy, and emotionally supportive. Spread generously over cooled loaf.

Final Thoughts From the Counter

This is the kind of cake that makes January feel forgiven and February feel hopeful. It’s cozy, a little indulgent, and completely unconcerned with your past intentions to “eat less sugar.”

Serve it to your Valentine. Serve it to yourself. Serve it with coffee in the quiet morning light while everyone else is asleep. And when your cat stares at you like she, too, would like a slice—tell her no, but thank her for the admiration.

Here’s to giving up on resolutions and saying yes to cake. 

You guys know I’m of a certain age.

I don’t hide anything — including the fact that I ate more frozen pot pies than any human being probably should.

Honestly, I’m not even sure everything inside those little aluminum trays was actual food. Some of it felt more like… vibes. Or paste. Or mysterious beige cubes from another dimension.
And yet?
They were so comforting.

There is just something about a warm, savory pie on a cold January day, am I right?

So today I’m hitting you with all the warm, fuzzy, nostalgic feelings of chicken pot pie — but without the chemicals, weirdness, or microwave instructions that include the phrase “let stand due to molten lava interior.”

Instead, this chicken pie has:

• A flaky bottom crust

• A cozy, creamy shredded chicken filling

• Whatever veggies float your boat

• And the real star: a buttery, cheesy, crunchy breadcrumb topping

No lie, this will warm any heart on a cold day.
And if I’m being totally honest (which you know I am), I would eat this in the dead of summer too. AC blasting, fork in hand, zero regrets.

Full disclosure: I used to pick out the little peas when I was a kid. Religious dedication to pea removal. So this is a proudly pea-free recipe.

But if you love peas? Live your truth. Toss them in.

No matter how you make it, I just want you to make it — and let’s relive our youth together, minus the aluminum tray and the side of existential ingredient confusion.

Cozy Chicken Pie with Buttery Breadcrumb Topping

Ingredients

For the bottom crust:

• 1 unbaked 9-inch pie crust (homemade or store-bought — no judgment, only love)

For the filling:

• 2 tablespoons butter

• 1 small onion, diced

• 2 cloves garlic, minced

• 2 carrots, diced

• 2 celery stalks, diced

• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour

• 2 cups chicken broth

• 1 cup milk or cream

• 2 cups cooked shredded chicken (rotisserie = cozy shortcut)

• 1/2 teaspoon salt (more to taste)

• 1/2 teaspoon black pepper

• 1/2 teaspoon dried thyme

• 1/4 teaspoon paprika (optional but lovely)

• 1 cup of veggies that you like, if you like them

For the breadcrumb topping:

• 3/4 cup breadcrumbs (panko or regular)

• 1/3 cup grated Parmesan cheese

• 2 tablespoons melted butter

• 1 tablespoon chopped parsley (optional, but pretty)

• Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. Preheat your oven to 375°F and place your pie crust into a 9-inch pie dish. Set aside.

2. Make the cozy filling:
   In a large skillet or saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat. Add onion, carrots, and celery and cook until softened, about 5–7 minutes. Stir in garlic and cook for another 30 seconds.

3. Sprinkle the flour over the veggies and stir well. Cook for 1–2 minutes to get rid of the raw flour taste.

4. Slowly whisk in the chicken broth and milk. Stir constantly until the mixture thickens into a creamy, cozy sauce.

5. Add shredded chicken, seasonings, and all your veggies. Simmer for 2–3 minutes. Taste and adjust salt and pepper like the kitchen wizard you are.

6. Pour the filling into your prepared pie crust.

7. Make the topping:
   In a small bowl, mix breadcrumbs, Parmesan, melted butter, parsley, and salt. Sprinkle generously over the filling.

8. Bake for 30–35 minutes, until the topping is golden and the filling is bubbly and smells like emotional support.

9. Let cool for 10–15 minutes before serving… unless you enjoy burning the roof of your mouth like we did in the frozen pot pie era.

Cozy Serving Suggestions

• A simple green salad

• Extra black pepper on top

• A blanket

• Your favorite comfort show

• Zero guilt

Last week the kiddos started college back up again.

They love the long winter break… but wow does it make heading back sooo much harder.

To say they were in full complain mode would be an understatement. We’re talking dramatic sighs, selective amnesia about how much they actually care about forging careers, and the classic “why does winter break have to end?” existential spiral. Honestly, relatable.

So I fixed things the only way I know how.

With sugar.
Butter.
And flour.

It doesn’t matter if they’re adults. I’m still coming in hot with baked goods and emotional support carbohydrates. That’s just who I am now. Probably who I’ve always been.

The problem was… I couldn’t decide what to make.

Cookies?
Brownies?
Brookies!!!

Reader, we chose peace. We chose compromise. We chose both.

But fair warning: if you’ve been around here for a minute, you already know that Ivy’s brother does not like “fudgy brownies.” And by fudgy, he means gooey. And by gooey, he means absolutely not, thank you. He prefers his brownies cakey, structured, and emotionally stable.

So this is not your ultra-gooey, sink-your-fork-into-the-middle-and-need-a-napkin kind of brookie. This is a cakey brownie base with chocolate chip cookies cobbled over the top like a cozy dessert quilt. Best of both worlds. Nobody’s mad. Everyone wins.

I could have topped them with flaky sea salt and made them all fancy.
But I didn’t.
Because they weren’t for me.

This is called restraint. Growth. Maturity. Or at least that’s what I’m telling myself.

Salt or no salt though… whatever you do?
Make them.
They are the perfect salve for the back-to-work, back-to-school, back-to-reality blues.

Why You’ll Love These Cakey Brookies

• Cakey brownie base = no gooey drama

• Classic chocolate chip cookie topping

• One pan, zero fancy techniques

• Perfect for feeding teenagers, college students, or emotionally fragile adults (me)

• Freezer-friendly for emergency dessert situations

They’re cozy. They’re nostalgic. They taste like someone cares about you.

Which… is kind of the point.

Cakey Brookies Recipe

Brownie Layer (Cakey Style) *Can be doubled for a 9x13 pan and big fat brookies!

Ingredients:

• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted

• 1 cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• ¾ cup all-purpose flour

• ⅓ cup unsweetened cocoa powder

• ½ teaspoon baking powder

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 cup semi sweet chocolate chips

Instructions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F and line a 9x9 pan with parchment paper.

2. In a bowl, whisk together melted butter and sugar.

3. Add eggs and vanilla and whisk until smooth.

4. Stir in flour, cocoa powder, baking powder, and salt until just combined.

5. Add the chocolate chips and fold in.  More chocolate is always better.

6. Spread the brownie batter evenly into the prepared pan.

Cookie Layer

Ingredients:

• ½ cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, softened

• ½ cup brown sugar

• ¼ cup granulated sugar

• 1 large egg

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1¼ cups all-purpose flour

• ½ teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• ¾ cup chocolate chips

Instructions:

1. In another bowl, cream together butter and sugars until light and fluffy.

2. Beat in egg and vanilla.

3. Stir in flour, baking soda, and salt until just combined.

4. Fold in chocolate chips.

5. Drop spoonfuls of cookie dough over the brownie batter. Don’t worry about covering it perfectly—those rustic gaps are charming and intentional and definitely not because we’re tired.

Bake

• Bake at 350°F for 28–33 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick comes out with moist crumbs (not wet batter).

• Let cool completely before slicing… or mostly cool if your household has no patience.

Optional Toppings (If You’re Making Them for Yourself)

• Flaky sea salt

• Extra chocolate chips

• A drizzle of caramel

• A scoop of vanilla ice cream

• Or just eat them standing at the counter like the rest of us

These cakey brookies aren’t flashy. They’re not trendy. They’re not going viral on TikTok. But they are warm, comforting, reliable, and deeply loved by the people they were made for.

Which honestly feels like the highest compliment a dessert can get.

If your house is feeling a little heavy lately…
If the calendar just flipped and nobody was emotionally prepared…
If the coffee isn’t hitting and the motivation left the chat…

Make the brookies.

Butter helps. 

And if you do make these, hit me up and tell me how they solved all your problems...or just, ya know, tasted good.

I’m gonna show my age again, friends. I’m a generation that grew up eating bread out of a can. It’s true. When my mom busted out one of those cans of Pillsbury crescent rolls from the fridge, I couldn’t have been more excited, like it was the best day ever! You know the ones—the cardboard tube that practically required safety goggles to open, the little triangle of dough you rolled up, the way they puffed up golden in the oven like magic.

Those weren’t just rolls. Those were a celebration.

They meant spaghetti night. They meant company was coming over. They meant something special was happening at the dinner table, even if the main event was… let’s be honest… meatloaf.

And while I can now bake actual bread these days and there’s no way I’m making bread from a can for my family, you know in this year of taking care of my inner child, it was time to make dinner rolls just a little bit more special.

So I give you: the softest, the fluffiest, the most buttery, cloud-like rolls, topped with honey butter and flaky sea salt, and rolled up like a little crescent just to make the inner child in you smile.

You’ve got to make them, my friends. They will elevate any dinner—even if  you're going full throttle 80s and you’re having them with Hamburger Helper.

No judgment. Only carbs and comfort here.

Why These Rolls Hit Different

There’s something deeply comforting about a good dinner roll. Not the kind you politely ignore on the table. I’m talking about the kind you “accidentally” eat three of before the meal even starts. The kind you pull apart with your hands because they’re too soft to cut. The kind that practically beg for butter.

These are those rolls.

They’re lightly sweet, impossibly fluffy, and brushed with warm honey butter straight out of the oven so they soak it up like little doughy sponges of joy. The crescent shape is purely for nostalgia purposes (and emotional support). They make you feel like a kid again, without the trauma of the can exploding in your hands.

And yes, they take a little more effort than popping a tube and calling it a day—but I promise they’re still totally doable. If you can stir, knead a little, and wait patiently for dough to rise (the hardest part), you can make these.

Plus, your kitchen will smell like a bakery, and that alone is worth everything.

Soft Crescent Rolls with Honey Butter

Ingredients for the Dough

• 1 cup warm milk (about 105–110°F)

• 2 ¼ teaspoons active dry yeast (1 packet)

• ¼ cup granulated sugar

• 1 large egg, room temperature

• ¼ cup unsalted butter, melted

• 1 teaspoon salt

• 3 to 3 ½ cups all-purpose flour

For the Honey Butter

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

• 1 ½ tablespoons honey (more if you like it sweeter)

• Pinch of flaky sea salt (plus more for sprinkling on top)

Instructions

1. Wake up the yeast

In a large bowl (or the bowl of your stand mixer), combine the warm milk and sugar. Sprinkle the yeast over the top and let it sit for about 5–10 minutes until it gets foamy. If it doesn’t foam, your yeast might be dead, and nobody wants emotionally unavailable yeast in this recipe.

2. Make the dough

Whisk in the egg, melted butter, and salt. Add the flour gradually, starting with 3 cups. Mix until a soft dough forms. If it’s super sticky, add a little more flour, one tablespoon at a time, just until it’s workable.

Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured surface and knead for about 6–8 minutes until it becomes smooth and elastic. If you’re using a stand mixer, knead with the dough hook for about 5 minutes.

3. First rise (the cozy part)

Place the dough in a lightly greased bowl, cover it with a clean kitchen towel, and let it rise in a warm spot for about 1 hour, or until doubled in size. This is the perfect time to make tea, scroll Pinterest, or dramatically stare out the window like you’re in a bread commercial.

4. Shape the crescents

Once the dough has risen, punch it down gently (very satisfying). Roll it out into a large circle, about 12 inches across. Use a pizza cutter or sharp knife to cut the circle into 12–16 triangles, like slicing a pizza.

Starting at the wide end of each triangle, roll it up toward the point to form that classic crescent shape. Place the rolls on a parchment-lined baking sheet, point-side down.

5. Second rise

Cover the rolls loosely and let them rise again for about 30–45 minutes, until puffy and pillowy.

6. Bake

Preheat your oven to 375°F. Bake the rolls for 12–15 minutes, until golden brown on top and your kitchen smells like pure happiness.

7. Honey butter magic

While the rolls are baking, stir together the softened butter, honey, and a pinch of flaky sea salt. As soon as the rolls come out of the oven, brush them generously with the honey butter. Don’t be shy. This is not the time for restraint.

Finish with a light sprinkle of flaky sea salt on top if you want to feel extra fancy (and you do).

Serving Suggestions (A.K.A. What These Go With)

These rolls are basically good with everything:

• Cozy soups and stews

• Sunday roast chicken

• Holiday dinners

• Pasta nights

• Chili

• Salad that needs emotional support

• And yes… Hamburger Helper, eaten proudly

They’re also excellent the next morning, warmed up with a little extra honey butter and a cup of coffee while you stand in the kitchen wondering how you accidentally ate four.

A Final Note from My Inner Child

There’s something really sweet about recreating the foods that made us feel safe, happy, and loved when we were younger. We don’t have to reject the nostalgia just because we’ve grown up and learned how to bake “real” bread. Sometimes we can honor both versions of ourselves: the kid who loved crescent rolls from a can, and the adult who now lovingly shapes dough by hand.

These soft crescent rolls feel like a bridge between those two versions of me. Cozy, familiar, a little extra, and deeply comforting.

If you make them, I hope they bring a little warmth to your kitchen, a little joy to your table, and maybe even spark a memory or two.

And if you grew up on canned rolls too? Welcome. You’re in good company here. 

Now, Ivy’s brother is about to take a super hard FAA flight certification test, so maybe there IS a reason to celebrate… but no matter what is happening in your life, bake the cake, lovelies. Celebrate that you got out of bed today. We deserve it.

This is not a fussy cake. There are no layers to level, no fancy fillings, no need for a rotating cake stand or a piping degree. This is a soft, buttery yellow sheet cake baked in a humble 9x13 pan, topped with thick, fudgy frosting and a joyful amount of sprinkles. It’s the kind of cake that feels like a hug. The kind you cut into little squares and keep sneaking back for all afternoon.

If January has been dragging (it always does), or you’re tired, or your to-do list is judging you from across the room… make the cake anyway. Especially then.

High Altitude Yellow Sheet Cake (9x13, tested for 5,000–7,000 ft)

Ingredients (Cake):

• 2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 ¾ cups granulated sugar

• 2 ½ tsp baking powder

• ½ tsp salt

• ½ cup unsalted butter, softened

• ¼ cup neutral oil (vegetable or avocado)

• 3 large eggs, room temperature

• 2 tsp vanilla extract

• 1 cup whole milk

• ¼ cup sour cream

Directions:

1. Preheat oven to 350°F. Grease a 9x13 baking pan (and line with parchment if you like easy lifting and low stress).

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt.

3. In a large bowl, beat butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add oil and mix again.

4. Beat in eggs one at a time, then stir in vanilla.

5. Mix in sour cream.

6. Add dry ingredients in two additions, alternating with milk. Mix just until combined.

7. Pour batter into prepared pan and smooth the top.

8. Bake 28–34 minutes, until a toothpick comes out with a few moist crumbs.

9. Let cool completely in the pan before frosting.

If the edges get a little snacky while cooling… I support you.

Fudgy Chocolate Frosting (thick, rich, emotionally supportive)

Ingredients (Frosting):

• ½ cup unsalted butter

• ⅔ cup cocoa powder

• 2 ½ cups powdered sugar

• ⅓ cup milk (plus a splash more if needed)

• 1 tsp vanilla extract

• Pinch of salt

Directions:

1. Melt butter in a small saucepan over low heat.

2. Whisk in cocoa powder until smooth and glossy.

3. Remove from heat and whisk in powdered sugar, milk, vanilla, and salt.

4. Beat until thick and spreadable. Add a tiny splash more milk if needed.

Spread generously over cooled cake. This is not the moment for restraint.

Sprinkles = Joy

Finish with sprinkles. A lot of them. This is not a minimalist cake. This is a cake that says, “Life is hard, have some sugar confetti.”

Cake for the big moments.
Cake for the tiny victories.
Cake because you answered the email.
Cake because you’re hanging in there.

Bake the cake, lovelies. I’m cheering for you. And for Ivy’s brother. And for all of us out here doing our best with our ovens and our tender hearts. 

Ok friends, don’t be alarmed. I am not abandoning your sweet tooth with this post. I would never. Cookies and cozy carbs remain very much my personality.

This salad happened for a purely aesthetic reason. That’s it. It’s soooo pretty. Like holiday-party-but-make-it-effortless pretty. Even Ivy's dad walked by my little photo shoot and said, "Wow!  That's really pretty!" The fact that it’s healthy? Just a fun little side effect.

Now. Let’s talk about my complicated relationship with salads.

I am… weird about them. I almost always make them myself because I’m extremely picky, and I have never—never—been a vinaigrette girl. Why? Mustard. I do not like mustard.
At.
ALL.

So imagine my delight when the internet casually mentioned that you can use honey as an emulsifier instead. Yeah baby! (Thanks, internet. We’re cool again.)

Enter this salad: tender power greens, creamy goat cheese, juicy pomegranate arils, crunchy candied walnuts, and a bright apple cider vinaigrette that contains zero mustard and all the good vibes.

Give this one a try, friends. Whether you’re looking for healthy or pretty, this one absolutely fits the bill.

The Salad (a very loose guide)

This is one of those “follow your heart” situations, but here’s what I use:

• Mixed power greens (spinach, arugula, chard—whatever makes you feel virtuous)

• Crumbled goat cheese (be generous, this is not a punishment salad)

• Pomegranate arils (these bad boys can be expensive but if you're down for red fingers, buy the fruit and pick them out yourself.  It's totally cool to snack on them as you go!)

• Candied walnuts (store-bought or homemade if you’re feeling fancy)

• A pinch of flaky salt and fresh cracked pepper

Pile everything into a big bowl, admire how gorgeous it is, then proceed to the most important part…

Homemade Apple Cider Vinaigrette (No Mustard, Promise)

Ingredients

• ⅓ cup olive oil

• 3 tablespoons apple cider vinegar

• 1½ tablespoons honey (this is the magic ✨)

• 1 small clove garlic, finely minced or grated

• ¼ teaspoon salt (more to taste)

• Fresh cracked black pepper

Instructions

1. Add all ingredients to a small jar or bowl.

2. Whisk like you mean it—or pop a lid on the jar and shake it dramatically.

3. Taste and adjust. More honey if you like it sweeter, more vinegar if you want a little zing.

4. Drizzle over salad just before serving.

This vinaigrette is bright, lightly sweet, and actually something I want to eat—which feels like personal growth. It coats the greens without overpowering them and plays very nicely with the goat cheese and pomegranate situation.

So there you have it. A salad I made because it was pretty, loved because it was delicious, and will absolutely make again—even when no one is watching.

Pretty food counts too. 💚

It seems like just a couple of weeks ago I couldn’t turn around without running into a cookie.

I made them.
Neighbors made them.
EVERYBODY made them.

Every surface was basically a cookie exchange waiting to happen.

And now? We’re one full week into the new year and suddenly everyone is in resolution mode, which has apparently led to a very real and very tragic cookie shortage. Salads everywhere. Joy? Questionable.

We can’t have that.

So I decided oatmeal cookies were the right answer—because they’ve got oatmeal, and oatmeal is resolution adjacent, right? Like, it’s basically breakfast if you squint. A wellness food. Practically a lifestyle choice.

But don’t worry, these are not sad oatmeal cookies.

These beauties are double chocolate, loaded with white chocolate chips, big dramatic chunks of dark chocolate (chopped by us, like the heroes we are), and cozy warming spices that will absolutely convert even the most stubborn oatmeal-cookie skeptics. They’re soft in the middle, a little chewy, deeply chocolatey, and exactly what January needs.

A quick word to the wise: these cookies can spread. Not emotionally—physically. So chill the dough and give them some personal space on the baking sheet. And if they come out looking a little… abstract? You’ve got options:

• Embrace that wabi-sabi vibe. Rustic! Intentional!

• Or grab an oversized round biscuit cutter and gently nudge them into place right when they come out of the oven. Cookie Botox. Zero shame.

Let’s bake.

High Altitude Double Chocolate Spiced Oatmeal Cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup brown sugar, packed

• ½ cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs, room temperature

• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract

• 1¾ cups all-purpose flour

• ½ cup cocoa powder

• 1 teaspoon baking soda

• ½ teaspoon salt

• 1 teaspoon cinnamon

• ½ teaspoon ground ginger

• ¼ teaspoon nutmeg

• 2½ cups old-fashioned rolled oats

• 1 cup white chocolate chips

• 4 oz dark chocolate bar, chopped into big chunks

Instructions

1. Cream the butter and sugars together until light and fluffy—really let them get cozy.

2. Add eggs one at a time, mixing well after each, then stir in the vanilla.

3. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, salt, and spices.

4. Slowly add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients, mixing just until combined.

5. Fold in the oats, white chocolate chips, and chopped dark chocolate chunks.

6. Chill the dough for at least 30–60 minutes. This is non-negotiable unless you enjoy cookie pancakes.

7. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line baking sheets with parchment.

8. Scoop dough (about 2 tablespoons each) and space cookies generously apart.

9. Bake for 9–11 minutes, until edges are set but centers still look slightly underbaked.

10. If needed, immediately swirl an oversized round biscuit cutter around each cookie to tidy them up.

11. Let cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a rack.

High Altitude Notes

• Extra chill time helps control spreading

• Slightly underbake for soft centers (they’ll set as they cool)

• Don’t overcrowd the pan—these cookies like boundaries

And there you have it. Resolution-friendly-ish cookies that feel indulgent, cozy, and deeply necessary. Because January is long, the world is weird, and sometimes the most responsible thing you can do is make cookies with oatmeal and chocolate.