Sassy Radish

The trouble with homemade care packages you mail out – is that most homemade treats have a limited shelf-life. Cookies – three days or so, granola – loses its crispness if not refrigerated, cupcakes – can’t quite ship them without compromising their shape as the frosting gets in the way. I’ve always wondered what do people send as care packages, and do they send it overnight, or on ice? Needless to say, I’m not the most ingenious person out there, so if I’ve failed to think of obvious solutions, please leave a comment and let me know your suggestions.

And yet, there I was, trying to think of a treat for my friend, Katy (who designed Sassy Radish and made it so pretty!), who was working on her master’s thesis at RISD while battling an interminable nasty cold. Apparently, there was this cough she couldn’t shake, and congestion that was persistent and relentless. Poor Katy couldn’t even smell her morning coffee – and if there’s anyone other who lover her coffee, it’s Katy. I felt for her – I wanted to help somehow, but short of sending decongestants (which aren’t all that exciting – I mean, who looks forward to receiving decongestants in the mail?) I couldn’t think of much that might survive a few days of shipping.

So after thinking about the short shelf life of perishable goods, I discovered what I call a “care-package loophole”, and that loophole is biscotti! Originally eaten by Roman legions – the word originates from the Latin word biscoctum, which means “twice baked”. They were twice baked, in fact, so that they could be easily stored for long periods of time, say for long journey and battles. You wonder where I dig up this wealth of useless knowledge – and I say to you proudly, middle school Latin class complete with a Latin Feast at the end of every year! And in case you’re wondering, cooking Roman food was by far my favorite part of the class curriculum. Today, biscotti are probably some of the most definitive Italian baked treats and are really easy to make. I liked this recipe because the author who contributed it for the January issue of Gourmet, got it from his Italian grandmother so this was the real deal.

In fact, the recipe’s notes highlighted that these “biscuits” will get better the day after baking, so the flavors will only improve! A baked good that improves with age and goes perfectly with coffee – if this isn’t a perfect care-package material, I don’t know what is!

Continue reading classic almond biscotti.

When we arrived to America, I was quick in growing to love American traditions and foods and general popular culture. I ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches with great zeal and often dreamt (and still do) of pizza. Hamburgers and French fries, chicken nuggets and fish sticks, potato chips and popcorn, sweet potato and broccoli, Fourth of July clambakes and Thanksgiving turkeys – I embraced it all as if it were the most natural thing in the world. I forced these unknown traditions on my parents, arguing with them, a bold and foolish teenager that I was, that these were the new ways of the world, and that we had to let go of our old world traditions because they were archaic that no one, besides my parents and their Russian friends, understood. I was eager to assimilate and become truly, completely, wholly American. If it was American – I loved it blindly and unequivocally.

Except for the Oreo. No matter how hard I tried, I never grew to love it. What seems to be America’s most popular packaged cookie, never quite held my attention. While the chocolate wafers scored high on my list, the stuffing in the middle did little to entice my palate. Whenever I was given an Oreo, I would separate the chocolate wafers from the stuffing (I would actually scrape the stuffing off and put it in the garbage – the nerve!) and eat just the cookie part. I can hear Oreo fans worldwide shuddering at the thought. And for that, I sincerely apologize. I never meant any harm, I swear.

No matter how hard I tried to love it, the white stuffing eluded me. It felt grainy and waxy on my tongue, too sweet for me to enjoy, made from something I wasn’t sure of. I once tried to read an ingredient list for it, and I quickly had to put that exercise to rest. I also did that once with Twinkies and didn’t get very far. Some things are better left unexamined. Like the ingredient list of a Twinkie. You’re just opening a Pandora’s box on that one because if the ingredients frighten you as much as they do me, you’ll be dismayed while reading the strange multi-syllabic words. Sometimes, it’s just better not to know.

But I digress. Despite the fact that I accepted the fact I was never to become an Oreo fan, when I spotted these homemade Oreos on Smitten Kitchen, the little voice inside me told me that this would be the recipe to turn me around. The white stuffing made mostly with butter, sugar and a tiny bit of shortening sounded good and so I printed the recipe with plans to make it soon. But typical in my delaying fashion, the print-out sat in my to-do pile for what seems like months.

A recent request for homemade Oreos (that sounded more like a challenge at the time), pushed the cookies up to the top of the pile and boy, am I glad I made them now and not months later. I mean, I’m glad on the one hand and a little worried on the other. Armed with a cookie recipe so easy to make, what is to stop me from making these over and over and over? Mere minutes after I finished creating cookie sandwiches, my batch was six (!!) cookie fewer and I had to refill my glass with more milk. My only thought, while eating these cookies was, “Wow, I just tripled my daily calcium intake!” Don’t say I’ve never done anything for you, now.

Continue reading homemade oreos.

There is a reason that this post is devoid of any great shots of stacks of brownies or brownies on a plate with a glass of milk. I had a bit of a photography snafu with these at I’m entirely at fault here. You see, when you cook in a small, counter-deficient kitchen and you lack grace (my friends know I do), things sometimes fall, often making a mess, often changing their intended shape from the impact of the fall. Sometimes, I have to make a new batch of that something it winds up in a pile of crumbs all over my kitchen floor. A freshly washed kitchen floor, mind you.

And so with such fabulous coordination such as mine, I was about to take pictures of these brownies perfectly cut in carefully measured (with a ruler!) squares, when I turned to grab my camera and heard a loud crash. And as luck would have it, I had no time to make a second batch of these, and was dashing out to cook more food at a Super Bowl party Paul and Sharon (my newly engaged, cake-decorating-kit-giving friends) were hosting. I looked down to where the baking dish had fallen and was both relieved and aghast – the brownies, magically fallen in such a way that nothing, but a few loose crumbs fell out onto the floor. Everything was still inside the baking dish. But. Oh, but of course there’s a “but”. The perfect squares were no more. Instead, they were erratic shapes of brownies looking like random displaced countries cut out from a map.

At this point, I had to make do with what I had. I packed them as best as I could and took them with me to Brooklyn. They were dubbed as the world’s best tasting ugliest brownies. And you know what? We loved them just fine.

Now, a word about these brownies. These are from the Baked cookbook I’ve made the peanut butter chocolate bars from and the Sweet and Salty Cake, and no, the Baked folks aren’t asking me to sing their cookbook praises, but I can’t help myself. First, the cookbook is excellent and features recipes I’m itching to make. And secondly, I don’t have that many dessert cookbooks, or cook books to begin with, at this point in time. And finally, I’ve had such luck with recipes in this book, I’m itching to try a dozen others!

But these brownies are serious business – deep, dark, bitter chocolate is a fantastic thing in and of itself. But if you add a little heat to it, I think the chocolate flavor becomes more complex and lingers on your palate longer. It elevates the brownie to a very sophisticated treat and while I’m always an advocate for presentation – you’ll love them no matter what they look like!

Continue reading the “baked” brownies – spiced-up.

Okay, I know the holidays are over and you are probably thinking about New Year’s resolutions and one of them, undoubtedly is to eat healthier, which probably means fewer sweets and cookies, and I’m so sorry for steering you in the wrong direction, but you have to understand (and pardon this horribly run-on sentence!) – these cookies are worth it! And just look at them – aren’t they aglow with a party spirit that would just be perfect for say, a New Year’s soiree?

I won’t lie to you – these took quite a bit of time, and quite a bit of cursing, and me vowing that no-way-no-how were these cookies ever worth the effort I was putting into them. What with having to tweak the recipe that suggested I use two (that’s 2!!!) cups of confectioner’s sugar for ½ cup of butter (can you say painfully sweet?) – I had to modify it, of course. And if you doubt one part of the recipe, you start questioning the rest of it. What if these cookies were inedible? Bland? What if the whole recipe is botched?

And later, when the dough refused to cooperate, I started doubting the recipe even more. The dough was most temperamental – giving me a four degree window in which is was pliable and also hard enough for the cookie cut-outs to be transferred to the baking sheet without losing their shape.

And finally, the mere fact that I got not 24 cookies as the recipe suggests but 48 instead – made me wonder if any of this was worth the time I was putting into it – and I was too far along to abandon the project – which turned out to be lucky for me. Because it was worth the trouble.

Because, when I bit into my first cookie, my knees grew weak, my heart beat faster, and I had to take a deep breath. These might be my most favorite cookies ever. And yes, without a doubt, they were worth the effort and the time! A resounding yes across the board.

I brought them to work, where they were dubbed as “lemon crack” after which, they quickly vanished. And I had a little competition from Crumbs cupcakes which we had in the pantry today. My cookies – almost all gone (that with the office being practically empty) and Crumbs – all but two cupcakes remained when I left for the day.

The bottom line is this – if the picture above doesn’t entice you to make them, I don’t know what will. But I can tell you they are stunning, amazing, delicious and worth every minute of your time. And pretty too! Don’t they look festive and dressed up? Like they’re ready for a party? And wouldn’t a lemon-cream cookie be a perfect complement to your New Year’s champagne? And doesn’t anything lemon-flavored just kind of makes you want to smile and feel giddy? Because if it does, like it does for me, what better way to ring in a New Year than with a joyous grin on your face? It might just set the mood for a 2009 and we can certainly use a celebratory year, no?

Continue reading lemon-cream sandwich cookies.

I don’t know about you, but as disciplined and balanced an eater as I am, I can’t stay away from Nutella. It is my one weakness, my kryptonite. I could, in all honesty, much have a pretty awesome evening with a book, a jar of Nutella and a spoon. Forget bread, as it just gets in the way. And if you think I’m exaggerating for dramatic effect, here’s a small confession, I’ve been known to go through a complete jar of Nutella from start to finish in one sitting. Yes, I have that little will-power. Hazelnut chocolate – I just can’t quit you!

So you would think I’d be wise enough not to make cookies that combine hazelnuts and chocolate together. You’d think I would have enough common sense to know early on this was a very bad idea indeed. You’d think I would see the impending doom coming. Well, I didn’t. I ignored every scrap of common sense and made the cookies anyway.

I should have smelled trouble when I started to lick the batter off the mixing paddle and licked the paddle clean, here as well, I ignored the warning signs. I should have just refrigerated the dough and brought it over to a more disciplined friend and begged her to take it. But instead, I chose to bake these cookies, oh yes!

And they were cooling, I kept looking over at them, circling the kitchen island like a shark in waiting, . And then, I could take it no more. I poured myself a gigantic glass of milk, piled half a dozen cookies on my plate and within minutes both the glass and the plate were empty, save for a few loose cookie crumbs. I brought the rest to a birthday party where I am hoping they were eventually enjoyed by the birthday boy and his wife.

You would think I’d learn my lesson then, except that as I’m typing this, there’s an open jar of Nutella to my right, with a spoon in it. I guess that makes me a slow learner.

Continue reading chocolate hazelnut crinkle cookies.

When I think of the phrase “spectacular disaster” I think of an implied double meaning. Is it a disaster so notable that it will be long remembered? Or was it as disaster that turned out rather well, unexpectedly? In my case, this Sunday, it was the latter.

I tried to make meringues and failed. Failed miserably as they were the flattest, saddest looking things you’ve ever laid eyes on. Fluffy and cloud-like they were not. Instead, they were crispy, flat, thin, two-dimensional. They were so deflated and when I took them out of the oven, they deflated even more, thus crushing my already-fragile cooking ego to a paper-thin level.

Growing up, my mother would make meringues that dreams are made of. They were impossibly airy, beautifully crumbly and dissolved on your tongue like a fairy-tale dessert. In fact, my favorite way to eat them would while reading Grimm Brothers’ Fairytales – stories, I am still fond of to this day. All she used were egg whites and sugar. And they were perfect every time.

I decided to give my meringues a little edge and added vanilla and lemon zest. I’m not sure whether it was the timing of adding sugar to the egg whites or the lemon zest itself, but I never wound up with stiff airy peaks like you’re supposed to. And perhaps I should have stopped right there, but I decided not to trust my gut and bake these guys anyway.

After I pulled the out of the oven, they were a pathetic bunch. I might have heard a sad sigh from one of them, or it could have been all in my head. Still, I refused to throw them in the garbage and when I bit into one, I was pleasantly surprised. They weren’t bad.

Now, I’m the first to admit failure when I am faced with one. If I took a class on meringues, and this was going to be my final product, I would expect an F. And yet, these egg white crisps were not bad, they were quite tasty, but in a completely different way. I might even try to make them again because they were quite intriguing, these crisps.

And so I wonder, as I bite into another crisp – a spectacular disaster? Perhaps not spectacular per se, but certainly a palatable one.

Continue reading meringues, sort of.

To be honest, this cookie making experience seems so far away, I have a hard time recalling the vividness of the excitement. I’ve been meaning to write about it for days now, or maybe over a week, but with work and a 4-day bar mitzvah event, I’ve been otherwise detained. I do know that when we first tasted the cookies, I did a little dance around our kitchen with a victorious “Take that, Tate’s!!” feeling pretty successful, particularly given my recent cooking flops.

Not only did I manage to produce a cookie that was delicious beyond words, it tasted far better than my favorite cookies made by Tate’s! And it wasn’t even their recipe, which by the way, is seriously flawed – as I came across a few blogs that bemoaned the fact that the cookies came out tasting like anything but Tate’s packaged ones you can get in the store. It also didn’t help that KS’s younger sister mentioned the very same problem she had with the recipe, proclaiming those cookies mushy and gross. Now, I may not want to partake in any Chips Ahoy, but let me tell you, a cookie has to be seriously disgusting for me to complain about it!

So, back to the cookie that made it all better – thank you, Martha Stewart, yet again. Really, it was like a miracle, as if the skies parted, the clouds lifted and I heard angels sing and trumpets play. It was the first time I tried a cookie I made and thought to myself, “There’s a living that can be made in this!” Unfortunately for you, I got so carried away with making, baking and tasting the cookies, that the pictures for this recipe are seriously lacking. For which I am sorry. A bit.

Having said all this, there’s the expected regular disclaimer. I mean, how do you like your cookies? Do you prefer them to be chewy or crispy? On the thicker side, or thin and lacy like? My cookie tastes have shifted over the years and with chocolate chip cookies, I now strongly prefer a thin, lacy, buttery cookie to a thicker, chewier one. If you are also one of those people, this cookie is for you. If, however, you’re in the thicker, chewier cookie camp, do not despair, for there is a way for you to use the same recipe and get the cookie you prefer. Read on!

This discovery was made by pure accident, as most discoveries are. For one reason or another, and frankly I can’t remember why, I baked a portion of the cookies using a Silpat cookie sheet and a portion using parchment paper. The Silpat batch was thicker and chewier – tasty, but we preferred the parchment paper batch, which was the thin, lacy, buttery cookie that melted in our mouths. This is the cookie I was after, and KS proclaimed that these were my best cookies yet – a high praise from a guy who tells me straight if I’ve over-salted the soup yet again. Unfortunately, unlike the last time, he couldn’t come up with a sexy name for the cookie, and so it’ll remain the good ol’ chocolate chip cookie.

Continue reading chocolate chip cookies – beating out tate’s.

Ever since these cookies stole my heart and failed to steal KS’s, I’ve been on a mission to find a cookie that we could both fall in love with and never let go. Aside from the fact that I just. Plain. Don’t. Get. It. How do you not love a cookie so deep, dark and chocolatey? Well, apparently, this cookie might come close to finding heaven on earth for some people(me), but others will still be looking. So I gave myself a goal – find that cookie that makes KS as weak in the knees that the world peace cookies made me and make sure that cookie has the same knee-weakening effect on me. After all, since I am making them, shouldn’t I enjoy them just as much?

All this talk of not having a sweet tooth has been put to rest. I do (have a sweet tooth). And I can tell you that while discriminating (red velvet cake from Billy’s – yes, please; Magnolia cupcake – no, thanks) – it’s very firmly present, refuses to go away, and lets me know of its existence every afternoon after my healthy lunch. To which I, at times, succumb. But all those cravings aside, there’s nothing more comforting and seductive than walking into an apartment that smells of freshly-baked cookies. It says “home” and “relax” and “good food can be found here”. And as I come home these days when it’s late, dark, cold, and often wet outside, walking into a house with the fresh cookie smell is like reaching my own idyll every night after work.

I found this recipe on the never-bored-when-I’m-looking-at-it Martha Stewart website – and it took all strength and dedication not to make these cookies the night I found the recipes. And a smart move that was, for here’s the rub: these cookies take awhile to make. Heed my warning when I say this to you, make these on a weekend, when you have time, as coming and going from your house, or make the dough one day, freeze it, and then make the cookies on another night. The cookie dough comes out very fudgy and sticky, and as you are going to be wrapping it in plastic and chilling it for a few hours, do not despair if you think it’s too sticky and gooey and you are having a hard time making it go into the plastic encasing. It’s supposed to be like that and you will be on the right track. I recommend chilling the dough for the amount of time advised in the recipe – it makes the job easier later on. But the end result – oh my! These are seductive and chewy, full of dark chocolate and hints of smokey molasses. A truly grown up cookie with layers and layers of flavors! Indeed, these cookies are worth the trouble they put you through!

After you make the cookie dough, you have a few more steps to follow before you can place them in the oven. There’s the additional step of creating ball of dough and chilling them for 20 minutes afterwards. And then, only after you chilled these chocolate balls of goodness, you roll them in granulated sugar (yes, we have white sugar on hand for this kind of stuff, we’re not completely white sugar free, I was mistaken) – and only after that step you stick the sparkly, sugary cookie dough balls in the oven.

If you don’t care to have shimmery cookies, you can skip the sugar rolling step, but look at how pretty and magical they look! Don’t you want cookies that look like the dark skies with all the stars upon them? That’s what KS saw when he was eating his fourth of fifth cookie of the night suggesting that I call them “Constellation Cookies”. And I think I will do just that. Martha, I hope you forgive me.

Continue reading constellation cookies.

All right, I’ve been a hypocrite enough! I’ve said I’ll be eating healthy. I’ve banished white sugar and white rice from the household, but I let white flour linger and it’s not budging. I won’t let it go! I’ve tried eating grains that are on the low glycemic scale – perfect for breakfast right before your arduous 45 minute spin class. I’ve been cutting out red meat, eating my chicken thigh skinless, drinking more water. And what of that? All to make cookies, right?

I’ve long boasted that I didn’t have a sweet tooth. A year ago, you could have put a plate of cookies right in front of me and I wouldn’t have touched a single crumb. And now, I’m all “Oh, maybe I’ll just sample the flavor, have a little bite” and before you know it, I’m pouring myself a glass of milk, while the second or third cookie is firmly clenched between my teeth. I mean, really, we can’t even walk past Billy’s anymore without a little treat! I think the gods are finally having their revenge on me – I shouldn’t have boasted so!

So when KS and I finished dinner on Sunday and I looked at him ever-so-demurely and said “Mmm… we SO need dessert,” he shot me a coy look and said, “Cookies!”
“But baby, Billy’s is a long walk away,” I disagreed, at which point, my darling, lovely, sweet man, poked me squarely in the arm and said “Cookies!” with even more conviction.

What, now? Cookies? At this bewitching Sunday night hour, when all I wanted to do was read the travails of Elizabeth and Mr. Darcy and wait for the new episode of “Curb”? But, KS knows, and you should also know, that I cannot deny him anything. Not when he makes that sweet, innocent face – that face I cannot resist, and so at 9pm, on a Sunday night, I resolved to make peanut butter cookies. The recipe for which I did not have.

And after looking all around to many a good reputable recipe site, I simply typed “peanut butter cookies” into Google search and got a recipe right from Elise’s fantastic site! Which is the recipe I made and the cookies turned out to be SO good, I had to write her a personal thank you note, because let’s face it, 10 years ago before a first recipe was posted by a food blogger, I would have had to wait til Monday when I would have to go to a physical bookstore (and you know I heart Amazon) and find a book with a peanut butter cookie recipe. How internet has satisfied the instant gratification in all our hearts! I added some white chocolate chips to the dough – and created a sublimely delicious cookie worthy of seconds and thirds and accompanied by a tall, cold glass of milk.

I suppose there’s always a back-to-back double spin class session on Sundays I can attend to make up for the gluttony of the week!

Continue reading peanut butter cookies.

You know I sometimes forget that what I consider utter and sublime perfection might not be that sublime or perfect for someone else. It never ceases to amaze me though, because I, ignorantly, like to think of bliss as universal and indisputable, but of course, that’s never true. For example those cookies that sent me into sheer cookie heaven, were not even remotely blissful for KS. In fact, he confessed a few days ago, to not even liking them in the least – he preferred those cookies instead. Sacrilege as it may be to proclaim a dark, deeply rich, chocolate cookie as untasty; it does remind me that what’s good for the goose, isn’t necessarily goose for the gander. So the quest to make a cookie for KS that he’d like, nay, love was on – big time.

So there’s a little place we like to have brunch at, Kitchenette – it’s got a homey feel with country style brunches, neverending servings of grits, home made biscuits with strawberry butter and breakfast enchiladas that I can’t get enough of. Orange juice comes in Mason jars, tables are made of painted doors with glass tops. It’s a little bit of South, or at least the feeling of it anyway, crammed into a tiny Tribeca space. And upon entering the first thing you see are these decadent cookies piled on cake stands – peanut butter cookie sandwiches, macaroons and Linzer cookies. And it’s the Linzer that caught KS attention.

I’ve always liked a good Linzer cookie, but the whole construction of them scared me off a bit. This isn’t some drop cookie that you just let back and then enjoy. This involves using a cookie form, then making an additional hole in half the cookie disks, then baking, then cooling. And finally dropping a generous dollop of raspberry jam on a whole piece and put the holey piece on top. There, now that I’ve written it, it doesn’t seem that bad at all, but for some reason, in my head, when I thought about it – whoa, that’s a lot of steps.

Given my recent baking, um, endeavors so to speak I was a bit apprehensive about giving this cookie dough a go. First I failed at pie dough and then, as if that wasn’t enough, the upside-down plum cake visual appearance gave me nightmares for awhile. The humidity today made me particularly nervous – because I’ve been told humidity and dough are not friends. But I was not to be deterred, weather or not.

The dough did give me some trouble – after I chilled it and was trying to roll it, it went all kinds of broken on me. Too sticky, too unpliable, it was holding on to the granite for dear life, until I sprinkled enough flour on it to make it work with me – which means for all you out there, if you try this recipe – do not dismay if your dough doesn’t cooperate. There is a way to fix it! Also, if you roll the dough between the two sheets of plastic wrap, it tends to work better.

Also, we didn’t have hazelnuts as the recipe require, so I used pine nuts instead, which didn’t hurt the end results at all.

And finally, do not dismay if you don’t have the fancy forms for your cookie cut-outs. I didn’t – and used a small metal cup for the outline, and a tiny kettle top to get the small circles out for the tops of my cookies. In a way, it made the cookie construction that much more fun, albeit, they didn’t have that perfect Linzer look. Still, they tasted pretty heavenly to me and to KS. I guess there’s a cookie we can both agree on, even though it doesn’t involve chocolate.

Continue reading linzer cookies.