Kitchen Wench

Today, in the grocery freezer case, I was faced with one of the most difficult decisions I’ve made in the last week: to select just one pint of ice cream from a sea of endless flavor possiblities. How could I choose? Did I want something fruity, like black raspberry? Basic chocolate or vanilla? Organic or locally produced? Not to mention texture and combinations–I couldn’t even go near the Ben and Jerry’s section. And then, I saw it.

Just for the holidays, Haagen Daz is now making special limited edition Bailey’s Irish Cream flavored ice cream. And it is delicious. So delicious, creamy, rich (and with a slight pucker at the finish) that I ate several heaping scoops after dinner and am now in the throws of lactose-intolerance induced misery. (It was worth it.)

Well, it’s that time of year again. It’s nearly Christmas and suddenly all the things that I’ve been trying to get done leading up to this moment still aren’t done and I find myself just sort of… giving up. For two days I’ve been in this fog; I can’t remember half of what’s on my To Do List (or maybe my brain is just blocking it out) and I’ve thrown my hands up at getting those remaining people presents. None of us really needs anything, I don’t have the time or will to shop, and this year, I really don’t have very much money and the economic forecast is not looking so rosy.

The thing is, the money, cooking, cleaning, and shopping stress isn’t really what’s at the heart of this. Really, it just comes down to that impending sense of doom–that all this effort is really just leading up to several suffocating hours trapped in the same room as your entire extended family. All I want to do is cook the amazing spread I have planned and then hide in my room with my dinner plate. And, this is really selfish, but I really want to cook what I want, regardless of whether certain people have the gall to complain about it. We host Christmas every year and if I’m going to entertain you in “my” own house, I expect that you will respect the effort that I have put into planning a menu (yes, a menu where the dishes were carefully selected) and not complain that maybe your favorite vegetable or meat was not featured this year.

I don’t think this is a matter of feeling underappreciated–I don’t really want to start having Christmas at someone else’s house because I like that my dad and I do the cooking. For one, I can’t stand the thought of eating bad food at Christmas. For two, I sort of feel like if you have some people who have a clear standout skill, it makes sense to let them do what they do best. It’s sort of like my “gift”, I guess. Really, I think I just want some appreciation for “the art” of the Christmas meal. The thought, the time, the work, the tradition! C’mon people, I just want a little RESPECT! *overdramatic head toss*

Seriously, as frustrated as I’ve felt for the last 24 hours, I have come to some more productive conclusions. You can’t please everybody, and your family is probably the toughest audience of all because you didn’t pick them. I can choose my friends, usually based on the fact that we have common interests or otherwise understand each other. There’s no point in twisting myself out of shape for someone who is never going to be satisfied, be it with my salmon or with my political views. It’s easier to say you’ll grow a thicker skin than to actually do it, of course. But I have to start somewhere, and it might as well be over a piece of fish.

I have spent the last 48 hours baking, boxing, and mailing out cookies to a few souls lucky enough to be blessed with my friendship/skills in the kitchen. On Saturday alone, I baked for 12 hours straight.

I think I might have some sort of sickness.

When describing my experiences in a Christmas letter, I was tempted to use an overdramatic quip about how I’d spent my blood, sweat, and tears on these cookies, only to realize that it really wasn’t that overdramatic–I really did bleed, sweat, and cry (mostly from the oven’s heat burning my eyes). It became an all-consuming obsession–for two days, I quit eating and bathing. Instead, I sifted, creamed, beat, rolled, punched, and sliced eight different kinds of cookies: 3 types of biscotti, 2 types of macaroons, 2 breads (short and ginger), and a little slice and bake number involving dried figs.

I wish being the cookie fairy was glamorous and beautiful, but then I’d probably be running around my kitchen naked, covered in sequins and wearing wings. Being the cookie fairy is hard work… mostly it involves me in an apron and a greasy ponytail, with all my exposed flesh (including the space between my toes) coated with a light dusting of all-purpose flour. Apparently, it also involves me having a wicked limp after standing for hours on a hard tile floor with flat, overpronated feet. Clearly, I missed the memo about orthotic shoes being part of my fairy costume.

(See below for recipes. Also, if you’re on my Christmas list, you’d better be kissing my swollen feet.)

Some of these are straight up from a magazine; others I have modified heavily over the years. Aside from links to the recipes, I have included comments and suggestions.

Cherry Almond Chocolate Biscotti

I modified this from the original recipe, for chocolate dipped Cherry Hazelnut biscotti. The first time I made these I found the cookie to be overpowered by the flavor of the orange zest. Instead I have replaced hazelnuts with almonds and used 2 teaspoons of almond extract for flavoring. Rather than dink around with dipping the biscotti, I stirred in a cup of chocolate chips.

Chocolate Hazelnut Ginger Biscotti

This dough is a sticky mess when it comes to to shape the biscotti into logs! I’m still experimenting with ways to remedy this. So far, my suggestion is to add a 1/2 stick of butter (cream with the sugar), use 3 instead of 4 eggs, and increase the flour by 1 cup. This leaves you with a dough that is kneadable, but decrease the cooking time by about 10-12 minutes. I also double the crystalized ginger, add a teaspoon ground ginger and cut back on the chocolate chips for a stronger ginger flavor.

Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti

I pretty much follow this recipe to the letter except I like them just fine without the white chocolate.

Some Tips for Biscotti
Biscotti means “twice baked” in Italian (or so I’ve read) because you first bake a log of dough then slice it and bake the pieces again so they become crisp. I consider biscotti to be my signature holiday cookie–it’s the staple I make every year and the one I’ve had the most time to refine. They are great for the holidays because they are a) really hard to screw up, b) keep up to 2 weeks in tupperware, so you can make them ahead, c) sturdy enough to withstand shipping, and d) the flavor combinations are endless. I don’t make them in a particularly traditional manner, prefering instead to see what kind of fruit, nut, and chocolate combinations I can stuff into a little cookie.

While having all these flavors can lead to amazing taste senstations exploding in your mouth, it can make it very difficult to slice your log of hot cookie without a lot of broken cookies. Here are some suggestions for slicing:

• Do not overbake your biscotti log, or it will be like trying to saw through a real wood log.
• Use a very sharp knife. Different recipes produce different types of dough textures, so experiment with using both serrated and straight edge knives. Begin sawing carefully and once you have a good foothold, push straight down.
• Thinner is crispier, but slice too thin and your cookies will break apart. Try to slice as thin as you can without breaking.
• Broken cookies are often the result of your knife cutting through the dough, but not that piece of dried fruit, chocolate, or nut. Even if the recipe does not call for it, finely chop nuts and fruit. Even little dried cranberries can destroy a beautiful biscotti slice.
• In an airtight container, biscotti will keep 2 weeks, easily.

Snowballs

Following the advice of another reviewer, it works great to fill these coconut macaroons with a chocolate disk.

Fig Swirls

I have no idea how they get 48 cookies out of this recipe. I made “half” swirls and still got the same amount of cookies even though I was working with 4 logs of dough instead of 2.

Gingerbread

I like to make tiny gingerbread men–reallly thin, crispy, and small enough to be bite-sized. For a snappier cookie, I doubled the spices and tripled the amount of ginger. For a dough that is a little stiffer and easier to roll out, add a quarter cup flour.

Apricot Shortbread

This recipe is from an old Martha Stewart magazine. I must have missed something because she says you can roll and cut these cookies out, but my dough was so crumbly it was all I could do to press it into the bottom of a pan. Still, the flavor turned out just fine.

• 1 cup butter, softened
• 3/4 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 cups flour, sifted
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup chopped dried apricots

Combine all ingredients except apricots. Mix until just incorporated but not too creamy. Add apricots. Press dough into the bottom of a greased or parchment-lined 9×9 pan. Bake at 325 degrees F for 60-70 minutes. Makes about 2 dozen cookies.

Amaretti

I am in love with those Italian amaretti cookies that you get in that big red tin. I could eat a giant box in a single sitting, they are so delicious. I keep trying to recreate the crip texture and deep flavor in my own kitchen, but it is to little avail. These almond macaroons are good, if a bit time intensive. Next year, I will probably just satisfy my craving by purchasing one of those Lazaroni tins.

This recipe is from The Italian Baker by Carol Field. It is for Lombardy-style amaretti, meaning the crispy kind. They make soft amaretti in Pietmont; that recipe is also in this cookbook.

• 1 cup + 2 tbsps blanched almonds
• 2 1/2 tbsps bitter apricot kernels or 3/4 tsp almond extract
• 3/4 cup + 3 tbsps powdered sugar
• 1 tsp all purpose flour
• 2 egg whites
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar

Grind almonds and kernels to find powder in nut grinder or food processor. (If using food processor, process with 1/4 cup powdered sugar to avoid almonds from sticking.) Mix with flour and powdered sugar. Beat egg whites until soft peaks form. Gradually add granulated sugar until stiff and shiny. Fold in nuts and extract. Spoon into pastry bag and pipe 1.5″ mounds onto parchment-lined sheets, 1.5″ apart (they will spread and puff).

The original recipe says to bake for 40-45 minutes at 300 degrees, then turn off the heat and let the cookies dry for another 20-30 minutes in the oven. This turned out to be a bad idea–my cookies were burning after 30 minutes! Obviously cooking time varies, so watch your cookies carefully. I only baked them for 20-25 minutes and skipped the drying step for fear they would burn. Makes 30 cookies.

I used to say that there was very little good that could come out of a Livejournal (or similar service). Indeed, most of my dealings with personal diaries have not ended well. Yet, I have to admit that I find certain ones utterly fascinating to read. I don’t mean those blogs where people write about current events or politics or sports. That’s actually relevant and maybe even informative, but what I like is that semi and/or pseudo-intellectual emotional garbage people shit out of their left ear. You know, where the author tries to get all deep and stuff about some (usually) mundane experience. Read the rest of this entry �

“Once a year, at Christmastime, I make the best cookies in the world. It very nearly kills me.”

So go the opening lines to Celia Barbour’s article in the December issue of Gourmet. As I read this, I think, “Now, here is something I can relate to!” Not that I necessarily would be so bold as to say I make the best cookies in the world (though I do think they’re pretty damn good), but masochistic tendencies surrounding holiday baking does resonate with me. Last year I mailed out ten packages of cookies… this is a lot of cookies. Barbour is right, by the third late night hunched over the kitchen table, liberally dusted with flour, you begin to question your sanity. After a while, it becomes clear: these people do not appreciate your magnificent confections, for they will never understand even an inkling of the blood, sweat, and tears you poured into these delicious, sugary morsels. But, Barbour puts it perfectly when she writes: “You can’t very well accompany a gift of homemade cookies with the message, ‘I slaved for three nights over these. I cried while baking them. Please—just like them.’”

For the moral of this story, which Barbour puts far more eloquently than I, you’ll have to read this month’s Gourmet. What I’m actually interested in are these magnificent spoon cookies that Barbour makes: “You really have to wait,” says Barbour. “After a couple of days, the cookies’ texture becomes lovely and melting. Earlier, they are good, but later, they’re transcendent. Honest.” I have never read a cookie recipe that suggested I wait two days before consuming, but this seemed a small price to pay for transcendence. As for the recipe, it is startlingly easy. With no special ingredients required, I decided to give these a try; if they are even half as magnificent and easy as they sound, maybe my dear friends and family will get to experience a small bite of heaven this year.

I followed the recipe diligently, carefully browning my butter and even waiting the requisite two days (of course I cheated and ate a couple before that). I spent far too much time mushing crumbly, buttery batter into a small antique spoon and using a tiny plastic spatula to spread cran-raspberry jam onto delicate brown ovals. Two days later, I have to admit… I am not that impressed. They are, indeed, quite melting, not unlike the texture of a Russian tea cookie. But, I have never been particularly impressed by fragile cookie dough, since they do not survive a trip across the country via US post, and most of my friends live in far flung places.

Of course, these are not my cookies; I do not and cannot make them as well as someone who has perfected the recipe. Perhaps I didn’t brown my butter long enough. Maybe they do taste best with half strawberry and half cherry preserves, as the recipe suggests. Personally, I found them a bit too sweet, even with the tartness of the cranberry filling. Also, I remembered why I never make sandwich cookies. They always leave me feeling cheated: After putting in the effort to make countless cookies, my final product is always half of what a started with.

However, I did discover that these spoon cookies are quite delicious when filled with a layer of dark chocolate ganache. They’re like tiny Milano cookies, but with a softer texture. That’s when I realized, I should have had this cookie’s number the first time I read the recipe. How can anything be truly transcendent without chocolate?

Spoon Cookies

From Gourmet, December 2005

• 2 sticks (1 cup) cold unsalted butter, cut into pieces
• 3/4 cup sugar
• 2 teaspoons vanilla
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/8 teaspoon salt, slightly rounded
• 1/3 cup fruit preserves (your choice) OR 1/3 cup chocolate ganache (Alicia’s choice)

Make dough:
Fill kitchen sink with about 2 inches of cold water. Melt butter in a 2- to 3-quart heavy saucepan over moderate heat and cook, stirring occasionally, until butter turns golden with a nutlike fragrance and flecks on bottom of pan turn a rich caramel brown, 10 to 12 minutes. (Butter will initially foam, then dissipate. A thicker foam will appear and cover the surface just before butter begins to brown; stir more frequently toward end of cooking.) Place pan in sink to stop cooking, then cool, stirring frequently, until butter starts to look opaque, about 4 minutes. Remove pan from sink and stir in sugar and vanilla.

Whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl and stir into butter mixture until a dough forms. Shape into a ball, wrap with plastic wrap, and let stand at cool room temperature 1 to 2 hours (to allow flavors to develop).

Form and bake cookies:
Put oven rack in middle position and preheat oven to 325°F.

Press a piece of dough into bowl of teaspoon, flattening top, then slide out and place, flat side down, on an ungreased baking sheet. (Dough will feel crumbly, but will become cohesive when pressed.) Continue forming cookies and arranging on sheet. Bake cookies until just pale golden, 8 to 15 minutes. Cool cookies on sheet on a rack 5 minutes, then transfer cookies to rack and cool completely, about 30 minutes.

Assemble cookies:
While cookies cool, heat preserves in a small saucepan over low heat until just runny, then pour through a sieve into a small bowl, pressing hard on solids, and cool completely.

Spread the flat side of a cookie with a thin layer of preserves. Sandwich with flat side of another cookie. Continue with remaining cookies and preserves, then let stand until set, about 45 minutes. Transfer cookies to an airtight container and wait 2 days before eating.

Cooks’ notes:
• Dough can be made 12 hours before baking and chilled, covered. Bring to room temperature to soften slightly before forming cookies, about 30 minutes.
• Cookies keep in an airtight container at room temperature 2 weeks.

Makes about 30 sandwich cookies.