The Great Oatmeal Cookie Debate (and Why I’m Team Chewy Chocolate Chip All the Way)

Let me just start by saying something that might get me uninvited from future bake sales: I love oatmeal cookies. Like, actually love them. And yes, I mean oatmeal cookies with chocolate chips. Although I'll still eat the raisin ones too.  Like I said, I love oatmeal cookies!

And apparently, this makes me a walking controversy. For some weird reason, oatmeal cookies are divisive. Like pineapple-on-pizza-level divisive. (Which I also love and will totally blog about later!) How a sugary confection can bring out such vitriol in people I will never know!

Case in point: Every time I so much as mention oatmeal cookies in my house, Miss Ivy and Zander immediately go full Bob’s Burgers on me:

Gene: “Unless you have some cookies! And not the oatmeal ones!”
Louise: “Never the oatmeal ones!”
Gene: “Yeah!”

Every. Single. Time.

It’s like they’re pre-programmed. Pavlov rang a bell, and my kids quote Bob Belcher. I get it, okay? Oatmeal cookies have a bad rep. Somewhere along the line, someone decided to cram a perfectly good cookie full of sad little raisins, told kids it was healthy and passed it off as dessert. Trauma ensued.

But I’m here to reclaim the oatmeal cookie's honor. Because let me tell you—done right, they are DELICIOUS. We’re talking crispy edges, soft and chewy centers, and glorious, chocolatey clusters throughout. These aren’t the “you’ll eat them last when the good cookies are gone” kind. These are “hide them in a Tupperware container labeled ‘frozen spinach’ so no one else finds them” kind.

So whether you’re already on Team Oatmeal or you’ve been burned by a dried fruit betrayal, I invite you to try my go-to Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookie recipe. I promise—this one might even win over the Belcher children. And if not, hey—I’ve got Miss Ivy and Zander here to fight over the leftovers.

My Ride-or-Die Chocolate Chip Oatmeal Cookie Recipe

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened

• 1 cup packed brown sugar

• 1/2 cup granulated sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract

• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour

• 1 teaspoon baking soda

• 1/2 teaspoon salt

• 3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats (not the instant kind!)

• 1 1/2 cups semisweet chocolate chips (or chop up a good dark chocolate bar if you’re feeling fancy)

Optional (but recommended if you want to be extra):

• 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon (just a whisper of spice)

• A sprinkle of flaky sea salt on top (yes, we're being bougie and proud)

Directions:

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or a silicone mat. Or don’t, and live dangerously. Just don’t blame me when the cookies glue themselves to your pan like clingy toddlers.

2. In a large bowl, cream the butter and both sugars together until it’s light and fluffy. You want it looking like the kind of frosting you’d sneak a spoonful of when no one’s looking.

3. Add the eggs and vanilla, and mix until everything is a lovely, creamy mess.

4. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, and salt (plus cinnamon if you’re using it). Add this dry mix to your wet ingredients a bit at a time, mixing slowly unless you want a flour facial.

5. Stir in the rolled oats like the cookie rebel you are. Then fold in the chocolate chips. And maybe sneak a few for quality control purposes. It’s tradition.

6. Scoop out hefty tablespoons of dough onto your baking sheet, spacing them about 2 inches apart. These cookies like their personal space.

7. If you're feeling fancy, give each dough blob a tiny sprinkle of sea salt. The sweet-salty combo is a game-changer.

8. Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until the edges are just golden and the centers look almost set. They’ll firm up as they cool. Trust the process.

9. Let them cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes before transferring to a wire rack—if you can wait that long. I usually burn my mouth on the first one. No regrets.

The Verdict

Are these cookies going to change the world? Probably not. But could they change someone’s opinion about oatmeal cookies? Very possibly. At the very least, they’ll win over your kids. Or your coworkers. Or yourself at midnight when you “accidentally” wander into the kitchen for a glass of water.

And hey, if Gene and Louise still want to throw shade, I’ll just be over here eating cookies and quoting Tina:

“Your ass is grass and I’m gonna mow it.”

...with love. And cookies.