Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Lactation Cookies

a lactation cookie held in the air in front of a rustic brick wall

Yeah, you heard me right. Lactation cookies.

If you’re looking for a super tasty, chewy, oaty chocolate chip cookie then you can scroll by and ignore the whole lactation thing. You can even leave out the brewer’s yeast and flax seeds if you don’t fancy tracking them down, though they do have other alleged health benefits, which I’ll expand on a little below, and don’t affect the taste. Don’t worry, you won’t find boob milk on the list of ingredients.

What are lactation cookies?

Put simply, they are cookies with ingredients to boost breastmilk supply.

I stumbled across the idea after my mum hounded me to drink Guinness to help get my boobs working a bit better after my son was born. Given my poor tolerance for alcohol and my even poorer tolerance for beery, stouty beverages I really wasn’t keen, but I was getting a bit desperate. I took to Google to try and find an alternative and the concept of “lactation cookies” came to my attention.

I read a lot of these recipes and, I’ll be honest, quite a few of them were a bit too health-foody for my liking. I want my cookies to taste like cookies, not hamster bedding. If I’m going to be reaching for a snack with a baby on my boob at 4am, it had better be worth the risk of getting crumbs on his head. So, I did my research into the ingredients to make sure I was including the key components, and endeavoured to create a lactation cookie anyone would enjoy, even if they aren’t sleep-deprived and slightly haggard.

a sheet of freshly-baked lactation cookies

What is in lactation cookies?

I did a fair bit of research on the topic and the common “active” ingredients were oats, flaxseed and brewer’s yeast. Each of these ingredients have (supposedly) beneficial properties, whether or not you’re lactating.

Brewer’s yeast has iron, potassium, selenium, zinc, protein, magnesium and B vitamins, as well as probiotics. I bought mine from Holland and Barrett in debittered powdered form, which worked really well. From what I’ve read online, it can be a bit unpleasant otherwise. I really couldn’t detect the flavour in the finished cookies.

Flax seeds are an ancient crop with a whole host of health benefits, including fibre, omega-3s and lignans, along with plenty of other vitamins and other nutrients. Most importantly, in this scenario, they contain phytoestrogens, which supposedly help breastmilk supply. I recommend using ground flax seeds wherever possible, as the husks on whole flax seeds make the interior kernel harder to digest. Plus, if you want to make this recipe vegan, you can use the flax seed to make an egg replacer to bind the cookie. More on that later…

Oats are another great iron source, which is why they appear in most recipes I’ve found for lactation cookies. They may also help to lower cholesterol and lower blood sugar.

There are other things you can throw in there, like chia seeds, and I sometimes do, but these three ingredients are the Big Daddies.

Do lactation cookies work?

I can only speak for myself, but for me the answer is a resounding “YES!”

I was adamant that I wanted to exclusively breastfeed, and I did my best. But, after a whole night of feeding with a still-hungry baby screaming at me and both boobs running dry, I accepted that I needed to add formula into the equation, pun half-intended. After that point I was increasingly desperate to find ways to get my supply up to meet my son’s requirements, and these haver certainly made a difference. Plus, breastfeeding is surprisingly hungry work, and having a semi-healthy snack to hand is essential.

Will lactation cookies make me produce breastmilk if I haven’t had a baby?

No, eating lactation cookies won’t make anyone’s breasts spontaneously productive, so there’s no need to worry about sharing these with your friends, family or co-workers and giving them leaky nips.

Can I make vegan lactation cookies?

This recipe is vegetarian, but with a couple of simple swaps it could be made vegan.

To replace the egg, simply add 7 tablespoons of tepid water to your flax seeds and leave for around 5 minutes to make an egg replacer. As a substitute for the butter, simply exchange with the margarine/vegan spread of your choice. Additionally, you’ll want to double-check your chocolate chips are dairy-free.

The only difference in the method is that you will need to use a non-stick cooking surface as it they will want to stick to the tray. A silicone baking sheet works a treat. My first attempt at veganising these resulted in cookies with “added fibre” in the form of greaseproof paper stuck to their bottoms…

Without further chit-chat, here is my recipe for oatmeal chocolate chip lactation cookies!

a lactation cookie held in the air in front of a rustic brick wall

Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Lactation Cookies

Chewy, oaty, chocolatey cookies with bonus ingredients to promote breastmilk production.
Prep Time 20 mins
Cook Time 12 mins
Course Dessert, Snack
Cuisine American
Servings 20 cookies
Calories 176 kcal

Equipment

  • Baking sheet
  • Oven
  • Mixing bowls
  • Kitchen scales

Ingredients
  

Dry Ingredients

  • 240 g rolled oats
  • 210 g plain flour (use gluten-free if required)
  • 5 tbsp debittered, powdered brewer's yeast (can be omitted for regular cookies)
  • 3 tbsp ground flax seed
  • 350 g sugar (I use a blend of 100g demerara, 100g coconut sugar, 100g caster sugar and 50g dark brown sugar)
  • ½ tsp baking powder
  • ½ tsp bicarbonate of soda (also known as baking soda)
  • ½ tsp ground cinnamon
  • 250 g chocolate chips (I like to use half milk chocolate and half dark)
  • 1 pinch salt

Wet Ingredients

  • 1 medium egg
  • 1 egg yolk
  • 250 g unsalted butter
  • ½ tsp vanilla extract

Instructions
 

  • Preheat your oven to 170°C/350°F.
  • Measure out your dry ingredients (except the sugar) and add to a mixing bowl. Lightly whisk together until evenly dispersed.
  • Melt the butter in the microwave. Add the sugar and mix vigorously until the mixture is reasonably smooth. Add in the vanilla extract and stir through. Leave to cool slightly.
  • Lightly beat your egg and extra yolk before adding to the sugar and butter mixture.
  • Pour your wet mixture into the dry, stirring with a wooden spoon to combine. When the dough becomes too stiff to stir, work it with your hands. It should be a nice, pliable texture and not too sticky.
  • Take meatball-sized chunks of dough and roll in your hands, before flattening into cookie shapes. this mixture doesn't spread, so if you leave it in a ball it will make something more akin to chocolate chip rock cakes. You should get around 20 decent-sized cookies.
  • Bake in the oven for around 20 minutes, until the very edges are crisp. They will seem too soft, but will firm up considerably as they cool. Don't overbake or they will become hard and biscuity as opposed to chewy.
  • Leave to cool on the baking sheet until cool enough to touch, then transfer to a wire rack. Store in an airtight container for up to 4 days, or freeze.

Notes

You can use more or less any sugar, but my combination works best for me. Using all demerara will give you slightly crunchier cookies, all light brown sugar will be slightly softer, all caster sugar will have less dimension of flavour. I wouldn’t recommend using all dark brown sugar, or they will be quite treacly.
The dough can be frozen after stage 6 for ready-to-bake cookies, just give them an extra minute or two in the oven.
You can swap out the chocolate chips for other mix-ins, like nuts or dried fruit.
Keyword baking, beginner, chocolate, cookie, oatmeal, quick and easy
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Black Pepper and White Chocolate Madeleines

Working on a French food website is a bit hazardous, especially when it comes to the baked goods. It seems inevitable that I sometimes end up dribbling into my keyboard, imagining the treats I could whip up when I got home.

When I set about developing this recipe I must confess I struggled; how can you improve on the traditional flavours like vanilla, lemon and almond? The answer is not to dramatically alter, but to enhance. Thus, the black pepper madeleine was born.

The addition of black pepper to a sweet, delicate cake may seem like sacrilege, but a couple of twists of freshy-ground peppercorns elevates the airy sponge with an ever-so-slightly spicy je ne sais quoi and stops the vanilla from being humdrum. The white chocolate dip balances the kick and looks rather pretty.

Of course, you could always switch out the pepper for lemon zest and have a perfectly lovely, traditional madeleine, but I heartily recommend this little experiment. I promise it is less bonkers than it sounds.

Please note that dusty, grey, pre-ground pepper will not work here. Not only is the flavour too dull, it will tint your cakes an unappealing grey rather than a rich, sunny yellow.

This recipe is great for adventurous beginners, with minimal special equipment required. You can buy madeleine tins fairly inexpensively online. You can find silicone ones but, personally, I find that the good old-fashioned non-stick metal kind heat up more evenly and give a much nicer colour and texture.

Black Pepper and White Chocolate Madeleines

Elena Bjørn
The classic scallop-shaped, buttery French cakes with a modern twist of black pepper.
Prep Time 1 hr 30 mins
Cook Time 12 mins
Total Time 1 hr 12 mins
Course Dessert
Cuisine French
Servings 18 madeleines
Calories 138 kcal

Equipment

  • Madeleine tray
  • Oven
  • Hand mixer

Ingredients
  

  • 2 medium eggs (as fresh as you can manage)
  • 110 g unsalted butter
  • 95 g caster sugar
  • 110 g plain flour
  • 1/2 tsp baking powder
  • 2-3 grinds freshly cracked black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp vanilla paste (or a few drops of extract)
  • 150 g white chocolate
  • 1 pinch salt

Instructions
 

  • Grease your madeleine tray with a scant amount of unsalted butter. Too much will result in crusty cakes. Place the tray in the fridge while you prepare your batter.
  • Melt your butter in the microwave, or on the hob using a double-boiler, and set aside to cool slightly while you measure your other ingredients.
  • If your eggs are not room-temperature, submerge them briefly in slightly warm water. If your eggs are too chilly they will not achieve the volume required. Using a stand mixer, hand mixer or even a whisk if you’re brave, beat the eggs and sugar together until they are very pale and have reached the “ribbon stage”. This will take around five minutes with an electric mixer. At the very end, add in the vanilla and pepper.
  • Sift together your flour, baking powder and salt, before folding gently into the egg mixture. Use a metal spoon or rubber spatula, knocking as little air as possible out of the eggs. Stir until the flour is just incorporated.
  • Add a couple of spoonfuls of the egg, sugar and flour mixture into your cooled, but still melted, butter, and stir until mostly-combined. This will make it easier to add the butter to the rest of your mixture and fold until the batter is smooth and silky.
  • Cover the bowl with cling film and refrigerate for a minimum of one hour, up to overnight. This chilling time is crucial for developing a light, fluffy sponge, preventing crusting and growing a sizeable “hump” on the underside of your madeleines.
  • Once the batter is thoroughly chilled pre-heat your oven to 175C (170C fan). Retrieve your batter and the tin from the fridge and portion out your cakes. You should have enough batter for 18 standard-sized madeleines or 12 extremely generous ones. The batter will be very stiff, but do not be tempted to smush it about in the tin; it will self-level in the oven and spill neatly into the characteristic ridges.
  • Bake for 9-12 minutes, depending on your oven. I am guilty of sitting on the oven floor and babysitting my madeleines as they cook, biting my nails as I wait for the batter to bulge into the all-important hump, or belly, which means the batch has succeeded. As soon as the cakes are golden and springy to the touch they are ready to pull out of the oven.
  • Allow your cakes to cool in the tin for a short while before moving them to a cooling rack, scalloped-side down. While they finish cooling you can melt your white chocolate (if nothing else, to prevent you from snaffling any of the still-warm madeleines. They will smell delicious, and you will want to eat at least four before you’ve finished them off.) You can use a double-boiler on the hob or the microwave on low-power.
  • Once your chocolate is melted you can choose to drizzle your madeleines for a fun, informal look, but I like to dip mine, like langues des chats. For this, you’ll find a narrow container will give you straighter lines and a deeper well of chocolate to dip into. A pyrex measuring jug is ideal.
  • Set your chocolate-dipped madeleines hump-side-down on the cooling rack while the chocolate hardens. Once set, eat right away. Freshly-baked madeleines do not keep well, especially if they are on the smaller side. If you really must keep them overnight, store them in an airtight container in the fridge and allow them to come back to room temperature before eating.

Notes

The addition of baking powder is considered slightly controversial by purists and can be omitted if you’re aiming to make a strictly traditional madeleine. However, if you’re not confident about the airiness of your eggs or the gentleness of your folding technique, the baking powder will yield a more reliable result.
Keyword baking, beginner, cake, french, madeleines, patisserie
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I got knocked up… what’s next?

decorative photo of elena and alex's ultrasound scan of niko

If you follow me on socials you may have spotted that I made a very small announcement a few weeks ago: Alex and I are expecting a baby in December!

We’re really excited to bring our tiny human out into the world, especially as getting pregnant was less than straightforward. I was diagnosed with severe PCOS, and had to take a medication called metformin to get my ovaries to work. Metformin is primarily a diabetes medication used to stabilise your blood sugar, but one of its unofficial uses is for encouraging ovulation in people with PCOS. It has some pretty significant side effects, mostly by giving you IBS-like symptoms, but in our case it was worth it, because it actually worked.

That positive test was life-changing, and we were so excited. For about a week I was a bundle of energy, chirping about all the thoughts in my head, making appointments with midwives and really struggling to keep our tiny secret under my hat. But after that first blissful week came the sickness. Jesus christ, the sickness.

My mum had hyperemesis gravidarum with me, so I knew that extreme pregnancy sickness was a possibility. From six weeks pregnant I was an exhausted puke fountain, living in fear of overwhelming smells or driving around roundabouts. 90% of food was suddenly off-limits, and the only things I could consistently keep down were ice pops and Powerade. This culminated in an admission to hospital for two bags of IV fluids and several hours of monitoring because I’d started vomiting blood and couldn’t even keep water down.

The sickness has been pretty grim, and has actually made furlough a blessing in disguise. I got furloughed back in March and haven’t worked since and, while it has been driving me slowly mad and a paycut is never a welcome change, it has meant that I can nap and marathon Treehouse of Horror episodes fairly guilt-free. If I feel like I haven’t done much in the past three months it’s because, honestly, I haven’t. Growing a human has been my sole covid-19 lockdown achievement. I couldn’t even do the paint-by-numbers I ordered before one of my cats threw up on it.

Speaking of covid-19, it has made the whole pregnancy experience quite odd. I was referred to my local Early Pregnancy Unit a few days after my positive test because I’d been bleeding and having stabbing pains, and I had to get a pelvic exam from an out-of-hours doctor in full PPE, which was rather like being fingerbanged by a welder. Then I went for a transvaginal scan, again from a team with masks and visors on. I still haven’t met my actual assigned midwife, or had an opportunity to tour my birthing unit. When I was admitted to hospital this weekend I didn’t see a full human face for nearly 6 hours. While I absolutely appreciate the need for PPE it is odd putting yourself in the hands of people whose faces you can’t see.

Alex has been my absolute hero through all of this. Despite the fact that he’s still working (and bloody hard, far longer than his contracted hours) he has looked after me, the cats and the house while I’ve been a floppy mess. He’s held my hair back, fetched puke buckets and bought me nice bread. He hasn’t been allowed to come to my NHS scans with me to see the baby, which has been really tough on him, so for an early Father’s Day gift I booked a private scan in Bristol, where we both got to see baby’s heartbeat for the first time. It was worth every penny for him to get the chance to see our child kicking their froggy little legs, live on screen.

As of today I am 15 weeks and one day pregnant, with the baby due on December 14th. I have a little over five months left of this pregnancy, and I’m slowly starting to get some energy back. I have so much I need to do with the house to get ready, and thanks to furlough I have a teeny tiny budget within which to achieve all of it. It’s really strange to think that I might only be back at work for a month and a half before I go off on maternity leave – it’ll be the least I’ve worked in a year in my whole adult life.

I don’t intend to suddenly become a mummy blogger (not that there’s anything wrong with that, but let’s be honest, I’m hardly a regular poster) but as and when I feel like I have something to say that won’t fit in a Tweet I might find myself here, typing away. For now, I’m going to go and research hypnobirthing courses and book a timeslot at my local dump. Gosh, pregnancy is exciting.

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Changing My Mind About Motherhood

Throughout my teens and early 20s I was fairly adamant that I didn’t want to bear children. I thought that, maybe, I might adopt one day if I really wanted to start a family but otherwise I had no intention of inviting a child into my life on any kind of permanent basis. As far as I was concerned, I had more important and interesting things to do than childrearing.

I’ve never thought of myself as a particularly maternal individual. I have two younger brothers and nearly a dozen younger cousins and, while they’re brilliant humans and I love spending time with them now we are all adults, there were times throughout my childhood where I, precocious and difficult as I was, found being surrounded by young’uns a bit of a chore. This is a failure in myself and not in them, but maybe that accounted on some level to my apathy. When my youngest brother was born I used to spend a lot of time singing to him in his little bedroom, but I was sent to boarding school when I was 8 and he was 3, and missed seeing him growing up. At boarding school I was bullied pretty badly and, aside from a couple of sweet and wonderful friends, it was a rocky decade. To put it simply, I didn’t even like children when I was one.

During my awkward young adult phase at University I was still broadly disinterested in having a kid, and paranoid about pregnancy, especially after having a miscarriage when I was 18, losing an embryo I didn’t even know I’d been carrying. This experience only made me more averse to the idea of ever getting pregnant on purpose. Anyone I dated from 2008 until now will tell you that I am prone to panic, buying pregnancy tests in bulk and squinting at them for the merest hint of a suggestion that my eggs have defied all the odds (and all the contraception), found a stray sperm somewhere and got fertilised without permission. Stupid eggs. Why can’t you just stay in my ovaries until you’re called upon?

Maybe it doesn’t help that, as the eldest in my generation of my extended family, I didn’t know many people around my age with babies. Broadly speaking, that’s still the case. Without spending any real time with small children I had built up an aversion based on my perception of strangers’ babies and toddlers in public places; screaming, mucky, sticky, inconvenient and wearisome. I wouldn’t say I actively disliked children but I sure as hell didn’t want one.

Whichever way I pictured my life, there were no children in the frame. I didn’t quite have a handle on how my career or home life were going to develop but I planned to be too spontaneous, too busy, too chaotically creative and itchy-footed to procreate.

What I did want, and have always wanted, is a life filled with animals. Lucky for me that’s exactly what I’ve had. There were always dogs in my family, but for the last 5 years I’ve had pets of my own, from a small fish bowl (which was fairly quickly upgraded to a tropical tank), to “just one” rabbit (which ended up being 13 adult rescue bunnies and two accidental litters over 4 years), an ill-fated dog adoption, three fostered semi-feral tabby kittens and, finally, two weird, wonderful, stroppy adult cats who have claimed my home for themselves and are kind enough to let me lodge there as their live-in butler.

I don’t know how, with all this in mind, I found myself staring at a negative pregnancy test two weeks ago, filled with unexpected disappointment. I’d taken one because my ever-unreliable period was even later than usual and I was due for a brain scan, which I wouldn’t be allowed to have if I was pregnant. I needed the test to be negative. My partner and I are not trying for a baby, nor are we ready for one. So why on earth was I upset by the result I expected?

As it turns out there are a few possible culprits for my unprecedented broodiness which, looking back, has been making its presence felt more and more over the last year or so. While I don’t think I’m especially affected by the number of acquaintances in my social media feeds who are expecting, or have recently had babies, I do hold my friend Jess partially responsible. Last summer she had her first baby, an amazing tiny person, and spending time with them both has got my uterus glowing. Jess is so capable and so engaged as a mum, and I swear she has magic powers (including a song about corn which stops baby tantrums in their tracks like a mute button). Even her birth story, which is more of a cautionary tale than anything else, didn’t silence the voice in the back of my head saying “You want one of these mini people.”

Screenshot 2019-04-02 at 19.12.54.png

To a certain extent I think my colleagues have had an impact too. I’ve never worked with so many parents before, certainly not young, creative, ambitious ones. Seeing them juggle parenthood with a hectic and demanding career, in a company that respects their home life, has opened my eyes to a modern parenthood that I saw as an ideal rather than an achievable possibility.

I definitely blame my wonderful partner, Alex, who is already a parent. We were friends for years before we became a couple, and the photos and stories of him with his daughter (who was 4 when Alex and I first met and is 8 now) always made me melt a little. The way he talks about the number one girl in his life means I’ve never struggled with the fact that I am, at best, number two. I have yet to meet her, but I know enough about her to write a compact encyclopaedia. I don’t think anyone has a longing to be a step-parent, but I can’t wait to take a more active role as “daddy’s girlfriend”.

Screenshot 2019-04-02 at 19.13.10.png

Don’t get me wrong, I (and we) are categorically not ready for a baby. We don’t live together, and my house is still not finished. Technically, though separated, Alex is still married, and although we’ve been friends for nearly 4 years we’ve been a couple for less than 6 months. I’ve only just made it through the probation period of a new job and have barely done any of the things most people want to cover off before introducing the encumbrance of an infant. But, all that aside, I think it’s safe to admit that I’ve changed my mind on motherhood. It might not ever happen, and if it does it shan’t be soon, but one day I would like to have a baby. Maybe. Just the one. Or maybe two. And a dog.

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