There is nothing rational about the Dough Jar’s cookie dough sandwich. Then again, these are not rational times.
The world of desserts is full of absurd gimmicks: milkshakes smothered in candy; doughnut ice cream cones; “piecaken” (just look). In comparison, raw cookie dough smooshed in between two baked cookies almost seems… humble.
It’s not.
I tried two “Cookie Dough’wiches” from Georgetown’s new temple of edible batter: one with fudge brownie dough stuffed between chocolate chip cookies, and another with snickerdoodle dough inside rainbow sprinkle-topped sugar cookies. You can choose from any of the Dough Jar’s nine dough flavors and mix-and-match your cookies for the $6.50 treat. (Alternately, you can get an ice cream sandwiched between two discs of dough.)
Don’t let the compact size fool you. What seems like one bite is essentially three. It’s like taking a swig of beer, then realizing it’s actually Everclear. (Yes, I am now convinced you can get drunk on chocolate chips.)
I can’t exactly wax poetic on the nuance of flavor and texture. It’s dense and sweet and, frankly, exactly what you expect from a mishmash of raw and cooked dough. If you’re a Cookie Monster, you can probably get halfway through before you surrender to its mightiness. Personally, after two bites, I felt like Bruce Bogtrotter in Matilda with his chocolate cake. If the trend of raw dough served by the scoop is a nostalgic comfort for trying times, then the cookie dough sandwich is a sedative for the pending apocalypse.
Ideally, you can share your Cookie Dough’wich with a fellow spatula-licking friend (or three). Or you can do what you’re meant to with stunt sweets like these: snap a photo and post it on Instagram.
Jessica Sidman covers the people and trends behind D.C.’s food and drink scene. Before joining Washingtonian in July 2016, she was Food Editor and Young & Hungry columnist at Washington City Paper. She is a Colorado native and University of Pennsylvania grad.
