Brian, Lottie, David, and Joann are Nincompoops

Last week I was in New Mexico scouting locations for Burrowers (which from here on out I'm going to call by its proper name instead of "my monster western," y'all can keep up) and drove into the National Park Land north of Santa Fe.

I drove through about thirty miles of park land, got out of the car and walked about half an hour down a trail until I came to an overlook above a mountain meadow. And found this:



People carving their names into trees makes me crazy with rage. I would place it seventeenth in my ever-evolving list of anger-inducing things, right after pogroms and Billy Joel, but before deer ticks and salted plum candy. Miles from the nearest road, I couldn't go twenty paces without coming across another tree branded by teenage idiocy. How am I going to shoot a period Western if every fifth aspen proclaims "Trojans Rule! 1987!" I guess misbehavior and pointless destruction is a way for teens to gain a feeling of control. But come on, attack a mini-mart, not a nature preserve.

Bonus material- the questionable etymology of nincompoop.

Atomic Fire Cookies

I'm being a bit negligent of the old blog this month, doing a lot a traveling, trying to get my horror western made. I'm thinking of changing the title to "Heartland." That's creepy, right?

Here's what Kansas looks like from the air:



And here's the second of this month's recipes in preparation for the release of "The Squampkin Patch." These are Atomic Fire Cookies, inspired by my love for candy that hurts.


Atomic Fire Cookies
recipe by Charlie Argyle

One of Argyle’s common ploys to make cookies less palatable to children is to add uncommon ingredients such as liquor, bitter herbs, or in this case, hot pepper. Yet despite the whopping full tablespoon of cayenne pepper added to these cookies, Charlie found them distressingly popular with the kids.


preheat oven to 350º

1 Cup butter, at room temperature
1 Cup white sugar
2 eggs
2 Tablespoon red food coloring*
2 Cups white flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons cinnamon
1 Tablespoon cayenne pepper
1 teaspoon black pepper, finely ground
4 Tablespoons additional white sugar
1 Tablespoon cinnamon

WHISK together the flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cayenne pepper, and black pepper**.

BEAT the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Beat in the eggs, one at a time, followed by the red food coloring.

ADD the dry ingredients to the butter mixture in three parts.

COMBINE the additional white sugar and cinnamon in a small bowl.

ROLL the dough into super-high-bounce ball sized lumps, roll in the cinnamon and sugar, and place about 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet.

BAKE 8-10 minutes, until cracked on top. Cool completely on rack.


* If red food dye throws you into an apoplectic rage, feel free to omit / run around and scream.
** Never put salt, cayenne pepper, or black pepper in your eyes.

Wolf Tickets

All this month, I'll be sending out weekly newsletters with recipes inspired by my upcoming novel, The Squampkin Patch. One of the book's villains is a mean-hearted pastry chef named Charlie Argyle who dedicates his life to innovative baking in an attempt to alienate children. Gingerbread pistols, for example.



His baking of course leads him down a path of madness that terminates in a field of cannibal attack pumpkins. The bright side being: a collection of fantastic recipes for all of us to enjoy.

If you want to get in on the revisionist, frighteningly delicious sweetness, add your name to the sign-up box on the lower right-hand corner of this page.

Or just check back here every once in a while. I think the recipes will linger in the archives for ages.

This week's recipe is Wolf Tickets, a variation of a cookie introduced to me by Nathan Wolff, the lead game designer on the original Splinter Cell.

Wolf Tickets
recipe by Charlie Argyle

This is one of Argyle’s earliest, and most child-friendly recipes, (despite Scotch Whiskey being a key ingredient). Perhaps to counteract their deliciousness, Charlie gave them a mildly threatening name. “Wolf Ticket” has a few accepted meanings, but the most common is slang for “talking trash,” making threats one likely does not intend to carry out, as in, “passing out wolf tickets down in the hobo jungle to keep the gutterpups off my bindle.” Its original form was “woof tickets,” an onomatopoeic imitation of a barking dog, (woof, woof,) that was misinterpreted so commonly that “wolf” became standard. In editing this recipe, I’ve removed all of the cursing and indiscriminate threats from Argyle’s instructions, as well as a racial epithet from his description of stirring in the butterscotch morsels. Freshly grated nutmeg makes a world of difference here. As with any morsel-bearing cookie, don’t skimp on the salt.

preheat oven to 375º

1 1/4 Cups white flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon nutmeg, freshly grated
1 teaspoon salt
1 Cup butter, at room temperature
3/4 Cups granulated sugar
3/4 Cups brown sugar
2 large eggs
2 Tablespoon Scotch whiskey
1 teaspoon orange zest
3 Cups oats
2 Cups butterscotch morsels

WHISK together the flour, baking soda, nutmeg, and salt.

BEAT the butter and two sugars until light and fluffy. Beat the eggs in thoroughly, one at a time. Beat in the whiskey and orange zest.

ADD the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, mixing thoroughly, (but do not over-mix). Stir in the oats and butterscotch morsels by hand.

DROP by rounded tablespoons onto an ungreased cookie sheet, about 2 inches apart.

BAKE 7-9 minutes, until just golden around the edges. Cool on a rack. Consume with reckless abandon.