My Not-So Secret Shame – Raw Cookie Dough and the Pillsbury Doughboy

We all have weaknesses. We’re human.

Today, mine are lipsticks and dark chocolate. And of course, coffee.

But as a child, my weakness was chocolate chip cookie dough.

Right out of the bowl.

Yes, long before people worried about salmonella, CFCs, and Y2K – I ate raw chocolate chip cookie dough.

The old warning was, “Don’t eat too much. You’ll get a sore tummy,” opposed to today’s, “Cracking an egg? Wear gloves and wash your hands with boiling water and acid.”

Little did I know there was also the risk of E. coli from the raw flour. Yep, I’d been livin’ on the edge since pre-school.
When I moved to Winnipeg, I discovered something life changing. Literally, because I gained 10 … 15 … weight, okay. I gained weight.

Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.

Sure, I was skeptical at first. But this dough seemed perfect to make itty-bitty cookies. Just like chipopities. My homemade dough had a different consistency. Thicker. Stiffer. And too many chocolate chips.

This Pillsbury dough appeared to be like Little Red Riding Hood’s dream: just right. Or, so I thought.

I cut the Pillsbury tube in half, and I set out to make cookies. Just not as many as planned.

The instructions stated slice the dough, which I found bizarre. I always rolled my cookies, then squished them with a floured fork. Seeing no reason to change my method, I rolled the Pillsbury dough into tiny balls.

Kids, always follow instructions.

The dough became mushy, and it stuck to my hands. I switched from small cookies to two-inch balls, dropping them aimlessly onto a cookie sheet. Not really caring where they landed – because my hands were caked with dough.

I couldn’t roll anymore. With dough clinging to my hands, I pushed off the goo. And I casually popped cookie dough into my mouth and … my eyes went wide. I swear I felt my pupils dilate.

I plucked off more goo – eating that yummy Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. I couldn’t stop. I lost all control. If I could’ve fit my entire palm into my mouth, I would’ve. The tube was my next victim. I’d rather not talk about what happened.

Only that I made about six cookies. My sister – who was my roommate at the time – said, “I thought there’d be more.”

I shrugged as I wiped dried cookie dough from my chin. “I cut the tube in half. Plus, the cookies expanded.”

“Tam, is that cookie dough in your hair?”

“No?”

About that other half of dough in the fridge.

The next day, I was taking out supper. That Doughboy grinned and wiggled his little Buddha belly from the bottom shelf. I thought, “Hey, what if the cookie dough expires? You can’t waste cookie dough.”
I nestled onto our Davenport, and I inhaled a quarter of the tube. Not my proudest moment, and I swore it’d never happen again.

But the next day after work, I wandered into the kitchen, high on coffee fumes – I worked at a coffee factory – and I intended to take out chicken breasts. But that damn Doughboy. Taunting me. Yeah, I caved. And one tube led to another.

Another issue: my day clothes. I usually wore a baggy purple t-shirt and loose purple wind breaker pants – with a waistband. I was sitting on the Davenport, gnawing a tube of chocolate chip cookie dough, and my sister’s boyfriend at the time couldn’t help himself.

“Your sister looks like Grimace.”

Grimace. That plump purple McDonald’s character with short floppy arms. Who no one knows what the heck he is – though rumour is he’s a taste bud. Hey, at least Grimace is happy.

That’s when I wondered, “Do I have a cookie dough problem?” Should I be at Cookie Dough Anonymous meetings, standing at a lectern saying, “My name is Tammy, and I have cookie dough coming out of my pores,” and everyone would rush up and lick me.

Wow, that turned PG-13 fast.

Then, the turning point. My sister had borrowed her boyfriend’s car. The same one who coined me “Grimace.” She handed me her cellphone. Yes, I know – 1996, and my sister had a cellphone. Very exciting.

“Tam, check my voicemail.”

She had a message from her boyfriend. Basically, “Drive carefully because if you get into an accident, there’ll be cookie dough all over the wind shield.” Sure, it made me giggle. But it made me re-evaluate my life choices.

Was cookie dough the healthiest snack? Hmm, let’s think about this whilst we eat raw Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough. There were other options. Carrots, celery, apples, walnuts, family-size Aero bars.

A few months later, my sister and I parted ways, and I moved into an adorable bachelor suite.

The night of my move, I went grocery shopping. Stuffing my cart with everything from oranges to spices, cereal to sugar. I was starting from scratch after all.

And a Pillsbury tube jumped into my cart.

That week, I nibbled slightly on the raw dough, but I didn’t feel that magic. My eyes didn’t vibrate in my skull. I felt zero heart palpitations – which was probably a good thing.

Sadly, the novelty of eating raw Pillsbury cookie dough from a tube had worn off.

And that’s how I learned you can make approximately 18 chocolate chip cookies from one package of Pillsbury Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough.

It’s probably more, but I couldn’t go cold turkey.

I’m only human.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I’m also Celiac, and my raw cookie dough eating days are O-V-A.
Manufacturers strongly recommend cooking their product, rather than eating it raw.

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