I need to apologize. I’ve been baking Christmas cookies.

That’s a horrible thing to do, I know. Most cookies are ruined by baking. It’s the dough that’s money.

I doubt that a more perfect food has ever been created. I suspect that it might even be what the Bible referred to as manna, that life-sustaining food sent directly from Heaven with the morning dew.

Before I married Terry, I often would stir up a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough in my yellow mixing bowl with a big ol’, well-seasoned wooden spoon.

(Chef’s note: Neither the color of the bowl nor the texture of the spoon matters a whole lot in mixing up a batch of chocolate chip cookie dough. What does matter is that you always, always — I can’t stress this enough — always double the amount of chocolate chips the recipe recommends. The cookbooks never get that part right.)

Once I got the dough mixed, I flopped down in my easy chair, plopped the bowl in my lap, turned on something educational, like Bugs Bunny, and feasted on the dough.

(Chef’s note: NEVER actually bake the cookie dough. Dough is best served raw.)

After I married her, I attempted to share this delicacy with my bride.

“You can’t eat raw cookie dough,” Terry yelped. “You’ll get salmonella poisoning.”

“I don’t know either Sam nor Ella. How can I poison them? And why would I want to? That sounds unnecessary.”

“Not Sam and Ella. Salmonella. It’s bacteria that causes fevers, stomach aches and, you know, spending way more time in the bathroom than you intended.”

She snatched the mixing bowl out of my hands and turned the oven to 350 degrees. “You get salmonella from eating raw eggs. Now hand me a cookie sheet.”

Terry proceeded to ruin my cookie dough. It’s not that chocolate chip cookies aren’t good. They absolutely are. Especially when you take them out of the oven two minutes early, leaving them soft and gooey.

But you know what’s better? Raw cookie dough.

I pouted. “I’ve been eating raw cookie dough since I was a kid and it never hurt me any.”

Terry patted my belly. “I wouldn’t say that it’s had no effect. You are rather doughy. Now shut up and eat a cookie.”

Three days later, Terry came home from a shopping trip to find me ensconced in my easy chair, happily chowing down cookie dough straight off the wooden mixing spoon.

She flipped. “What did I tell you?”

I tucked the bowl in the crook of my arm like a running back protecting the football. “I didn’t use eggs. No eggs, no salmonella. Right?”

“Ugh! I married a barbarian.”

(Chef’s note: Cookie dough without eggs tastes almost as wonderful as with eggs. And since there are no eggs in the dough, no one can take it away from you and ruin it in a hot oven, either. Without eggs, the cookies won’t bake right. I don’t think. Probably. I dunno. I’ve never been tempted to try.)

My sweet wife has since passed away, and no, it was not from salmonella poisoning. I never did convince her to enjoy that marvelous confection.

I haven’t mixed up a batch of cookie dough for ages.

No, it’s not because I stopped eating it. It’s because I’ve discovered the peel-and-eat kind in the refrigerated goods section of my grocery store.

There’s even a burst on the package with the delicious words: “Safe to eat raw.”

It also states that I can bake the dough as well. I suppose I could. Maybe I will — if I ever become delirious or of unsound mind.

You know, I should buy a bag of chocolate chips — or peanut butter or butterscotch chips — and mix those in with the store-bought cookie dough. The recipes never get the amount right.

(Chef’s note: Remember, most cookies are ruined by baking. Eat the dough.)

The preceding column should NOT be taken as sound medical or dietary advice of any kind. We think there may be dough between Burt’s ears. Share recipes with him at burton.w.cole@gmail.com or on the Burton W. Cole page on Facebook.