Bake and Shake

Cookies that can also act as a form of edible, confectionary Mace

"Enough spice in those bitches to take down a bear. A grown bear. A grown, man of a bear."

I wanted to make a molasses/spice cookie the other day, and looking around I couldn't find anything that I really wanted to do or deal with. Spice cookies can be complicated jerks. I've had too many that don't have the heft or chew that I want, the kind that I call "Rest Stop Cookies" for some reason, because once I found some under a bench and ate them. Those "Spice Cookies" were called hamburger wrappers and an empty cigarette carton.

But really, because I have some sort of connection between rest stops, old ladies giving out free coffee and cookies from a tin and asking for money for the Shriners or something. Little stale but still soft cookies with hard, white icing that has a chalky sweetness. Shove some in your mouth now, a few in your coat pockets for later. Steal your little sisters', too.

So these cookies happened when I added molasses to the basic recipe I use for chocolate chip/chunk and similar cookies. Like, "Oh, now we have spice cookies." I think this is how lots of things happened.  Global warming and various viruses, too. I think they're really good, a nice step up for regular spice cookies. Like Spice Cookies got a three-tiered Jessica McClintock dress for Prom. Crushed velvet bodice. Gold Lame skirt.

Don't put these cookies in your eyes.

Spice Cookies with Orange-Nutmeg Glaze
1 stick softened butter
1 cup dark brown sugar, packed
1 egg
¼ cup molasses
2 cups AP flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
¼ teaspoon ground cloves
¼ teaspoon ground nutmeg
½ teaspoon kosher salt

Preheat oven to 300 degrees.

In a large mixing bowl, cream together butter and sugar until light brown and fluffy. Add egg, salt and molasses and mix until combined. Sift in flour, baking powder, cloves, nutmeg and cinnamon and mix just until the dough comes together. Using a small cookie scoop, or a tablespoon, scoop dough into small balls around 1 ½ inches in diameter and roll in granulated sugar. Place in a parchment lined baking sheet, press down lightly on the surface of each cookie with middle and index fingers to flatten slightly and bake for 10-12 minutes, until cookies are set and a light brown. Cool on the baking sheet for three minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely.

When cool, glaze cookies, though this is completely optional.

Orange-Nutmeg Glaze
¾ cup powdered sugar
2 tablespoons heavy cream
1 teaspoon (about ¼ of) freshly grated orange zest
¼ teaspoon grated nutmeg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 tablespoon freshly squeezed orange juice
Pecan halves (optional)

Sift powdered sugar into a bowl, and add the rest of the ingredients. Stir well to combine, then drizzle or spread over cooled cookies. Top each glazed cookie with a pecan half, if desired.

You will know us by the trail of our crumbs

"Get OFF of ME. NOW. I HATE Trust-Building exercises. Build a human corporate-ladder my ASS. I am a RECEPTIONIST."

Most everyone I love or trust my social security number with agrees that the best cookies are the kind where you can taste the butter in them. If you want to go deeper into shame, the best cookies are the kind that if you press a bite between your palate/roof of your mouth and tongue, you can extract the true buttery essence of a cookie. I just grossed myself out writing that, so I'm going to go donate money or organs to even it all out.

Cookies shouldn't be greasy -- Obese amounts of butter need not be present in a good cookie recipe, just the taste. You know how everyone's like "Justin Timberlake is so black!" and then I'm like "Yeah, fully, I'm half-black* and he's blacker than me." except I've never said that, in my life, and if I ever do please run me over. These cookies don't have a horrible amount of butter in them, but everyone's going to be like "These cookies are so buttery!" And then you can say "I know, I'm half-butter, my dad's butter, and they've got me beat."

Just like that.

*I am half-black. I've still got Justin Timberlake beat, just on Melanin alone.

Chocolate Chunk Cookies
Adapted from the Neiman-Marcus recipe

1 stick softened butter
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
3 tablespoons vanilla (or granulated white) sugar
1 egg
1 3/4 cups AP flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chunks or chips

Preheat oven to 300° F.

In a suitable size mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugars just until light brown and fluffy, around one minute. Add the egg, vanilla and salt and mix until well combined. Sift together the dry ingredients, and add to the wet ones. Mix just until incorporated, and a soft dough forms. Fold in the chocolate with a spatula.

I like my cookies the size of an infant's face. So I use an ice cream scoop. Normal people use tablespoons or a small "cookie" scoop. Either way, scoop and drop dough onto a parchment-lined or lightly greased cookie sheet, and bake just until barely set in the middle and golden brown, 12-15 minutes. The cookies stiffen as they cool, so I'd check after 10 minutes and base any prolonged baking time on how they feel at that point. Don't overbake, or they'll be as hard as your mother's heart that time you forgot her birthday, even though it's tax day.

I was fifteen, we're over it now.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool on the cookie sheet for 2 minutes, then remove to a cooling rack and allow to cool completely. Repeat this process with any remaining dough.

See how long you can go without eating one. So far, I'm at 15 hours.

*Looking for a thin, wrinkled cookie? Check this business out.

Next, I'll try cats

"Well, we're fraternal. So I mean, we're not exactly alike. I didn't need braces."

Sometimes I find myself trying out recipes that have nothing to do with what I think is good, or might taste nice. I've never been fond of bananas, though I recognize that they're a crucial part of the experience that is Banoffee Pie, coming to Universal Studios this fall.

So when I said I was making banana pudding, straight-up, classic banana pudding people wondered aloud what was wrong, what had happened. I don't like bananas, but I follow them to their locker, basically. They beckon me, then wonder why I'm hiding behind a trash can.

Besides the bananas, this dessert is kind of like the time a friend brought jars of baby food on a road trip, as one of his snacks and offered them up for tasting. I was 16 or 17 and sure, this is great, I'm eating strained peaches. This is GREAT. TASTY. I'm teething again. Someone change my pants.

It melds into this blissful, inoffensive but intensely vanilla mush -- a little slippery from the bananas, a little muted crunch from the Nilla wafers. It is hard to be offended by bananas in this form, but I'll keep trying.

Banana Pudding
Vanilla Pudding recipe adapted from Mark Bittman

1/2 cup sugar (I used vanilla sugar, like I use in most recipes. This is just granulated sugar stored with split, used vanilla beans)
2 cups milk
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 Tbs cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
3 large eggs, room temperature
3 teaspoons vanilla extract, divided
1 vanilla bean, split and scraped of its seeds (optional -- I use a vanilla extract that has seeds in it. You could also use vanilla bean paste)

1 box Nilla Wafers
1-2 large, ripe bananas
Juice from one lemon

Nutmeg
Whipped cream (optional)

Whisk together the cornstarch, sugar and salt in a medium saucepan. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl or measuring cup/jug, whisk together the eggs, milk, cream, vanilla bean seeds and 2 teaspoons of the vanilla extract until smooth and pale yellow. Turn the burner on, medium to medium high heat (I used the '5' setting on my electric range, if that means anything) underneath the saucepan and carefully whisk the milk mixture into the sugar/cornstarch mixture. Stir to break up any lumps, and continue to cook, whisking often, until the pudding thickens and comes to a soft, gloppy simmer. Turn heat down if scorching becomes a worry -- this whole process, according to Bittman and it took almost this long for me, should take around ten minutes. But what you want, is a thick, lump-free mixture that smells divine.

Remove from heat, count to ten and add the final teaspoon of vanilla extract. Whisk one last time.

Now, depending on what kind of pudding you want (individual or family style), you can totally freestyle this. Like that guy who is always beatboxing after three drinks. What you want to do is layer the warm pudding, Nilla wafers and banana slices in a style that compliments the dish(es) you've chosen to use. I used these small, tapered cocktail glasses -- one wafer fit perfectly in the bottom of each. But you can use bowls, a cake pan, a bedpan, whatever allows you to sleep at night.

Slice the bananas thinly, and toss with lemon juice, which will prevent them from browning. Starting with the wafers, work in the following pattern: Nilla wafers, Pudding, Bananas, Nilla Wafers, Pudding, Bananas, so on and so forth. You go. You're such a big kid, now.

Once you reach the final layer, feel free to decorate. For one dish, I ended with pudding and sprinkled a bit of nutmeg on top. For another, I added a Nilla wafer and banana slice to the top. If you like whipped cream, chill a bowl and whip some up.

Serves however many people you want it to, but really 4 or 5.

Senior Citizens will probably love this.

Down in the Slumps

"Your father's mother slumped in the middle, too. You must have inherited it from her. Your sister got my family's genes."

Where I live, in that boxcar that the class of '96 set fire to and now provides shelter for wild dogs and myself, it is spring. The mornings are blue and gold and the evenings stretch into a pretty, light gray with little puffs of cream and yellow threaded through the incoming clouds. Spring means a lot of things, flowers and baby animals but what I look forward to is the shame that clear, morning light brings as you survey your body after four months of "It's dark by four, so no one can see me if I dip this in mayonnaise." Wool and denial hide so much.

So these muffins ease that shame a little, because they taste really fatty and sugary and that's all you could ask from a muffin, besides tasting like bacon too. There's only 1/2 a stick of butter in the batter, and another three tablespoons in the crumble (which you can completely omit) and you're not going to eat all nine muffins. Let's form a support group.

This is originally a Blueberry Buckle recipe from The Joy of Cooking, and followed to the letter it is an incredible, moist cake that works for breakfast or dessert. Everything in that book works. Unlike my pants.

NOTE: Please place a sheet of aluminum foil or a spare baking sheet on the shelf below the one holding your muffin tin. The intense butter explosion can result in a little drippage, a little smoke, a little yelling. And you want to handle it like a lady.

Blueberry Slump Muffins
Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

1/2 stick (1/4 cup) butter, room temperature
1 cup vanilla sugar
1 egg, room temperature
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Zest from 1/2 a lemon
1/2 cup milk, room temperature

1 3/4 cups AP flour, (Dip and Sweep method)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup frozen wild blueberries

Preheat oven to 350° F.

In a large bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until creamy and smooth. Add the egg, milk, vanilla, lemon zest and mix until pale gold and smooth.

Sift in the flour, baking powder and salt, mixing just until a thick dough forms. Fold in the blueberries, and scoop into the cups of a lined muffin tin.

Crumble:
3 tablespoons soft butter
1/4 cup sugar
1/4 cup AP flour
1 tbs Demera sugar
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
Zest from 1/4 of an orange

In a small bowl, mash together the butter, sugars, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, orange zest and salt with a fork until a rough crumble forms. Sprinkle 1 to 2 tablespoons of crumble over each muffin and bake until toothpick comes out clean, around 30-40 minutes (check after 30). Muffins will rise out of their cups and spread slightly but don't be alarmed. They're still worthy. If the tops have bled together, gently divide them with the edge of a spatula or knife. Allow to cool in the pan for two or three minutes, then remove and cool completely on a rack.

Serve warm or at room temperature.

Dress your Blondies in ribbed paper and denim

"They punched me in the pecan, mom."

First, hello to anyone and everyone who is reading and was directed here by the ever kind Not Martha and Soundless Space. Thanks to you, I can return their dogs now.

I'm not a big chocolate fan. I don't expect you to care about that revelation, but I wanted to say it anyway. These, Martha Stewart's Blondies are great, because they have just enough chocolate in them but so much other stuff too, like coconut, toasted pecans, brown sugar, vanilla and glass.

They're also very quick to make, I used a hand mixer and spatula but a wooden spoon and hand action would work just as well. Most of the batter went into a square 8x8x2 pan, but some was dropped into paper liners. They baked up beautifully, transportable and cute. Perfect for theft, but even better for presentation -- I hate trying to cut things into bars, with raggedy, crumbled edges and bleeding filling. And that's just my personal shame.

Blonde leading the Blonde Bars
Adapted from Martha Stewart's Blondies recipe

1 1/2 sticks butter, room temperature
1 cup packed dark brown sugar
2/3 cup vanilla sugar
2 eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups AP flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon salt
2/3 cup chocolate chips (I used a mix of milk and semisweet)
2/3 cup toasted, coarsely chopped pecans
2/3 cup flaked, sweetened coconut
12-16 toasted pecan halves (optional)

Preheat oven to 350° F. Using a dab of butter, grease an 8x8 pan and set aside. Or place cupcake liners in an ungreased 12-cup tin.

In a large bowl, cream together butter and sugars until light and fluffy, around 1-2 minutes depending on mixer speed. Add eggs, vanilla and salt and mix until just combined. Sift in flour and baking powder, mixing just until the flour is incorporated and a smooth, tan batter awaits -- you don't want to mix in too much air at this point. With a wooden spoon or spatula, fold in the chocolate, pecans and coconut.

If making bars, pull batter into the pan and spread smoothly with the back of a spatula. If making cups, scoop (I use a small cookie/ice-cream scoop) batter into lined cups and lightly press a pecan half on top of each one. If feeling bad about yourself and maybe remembering that One Day in 9th Grade, eat a few tablespoons of raw dough, quietly, in the coat closet. "Hi! Here's your scarf! Stop looking at my mouth!"

Bake at 350 for 20-25 minutes (cupcakes) and 35-40 minutes (8x8 pan), checking occasionally. They're done when golden brown and firm to the touch, but still soft in the middle.

"Smells like your Grandma, Bro."

"We like our bread homemade. And homeschooled."

I started making no-knead bread a month or two after the hysteria broke, and I've made three loaves so far. The first one tasted best, the second (pictured above) looked the best and the third was the least amount of hassle. If we go by birth order stereotypes, I can expect Loaf Number One to live with me until it is thirty-two. Loaf Number Two will vote to put me in a home the moment I accidentally call her by the dog's name, and Loaf Number Three will get the vacation home.

Oh, my little yeastie-beasties.

Peer Pressure in Loaf Form
Adapted from Jim Lahey and Mark Bittman

3 cups AP flour
1 1/2 to 3/4 cups tap water
1/3 + 1/8 teaspoon Active Dry Yeast (What is up, Fractions? Thanks for lowering your expectations of me!)
1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt

20 hours before you'd like some bread:
In a large bowl, I use a wide Pyrex one, measure (dip and sweep method) and dump flour, yeast and salt. Add the first 1 1/2 cups of water, stirring to form a shaggy dough. I use more, and I find this gives me more holes without a damp crumb. So add that extra 1/4 cup if you like. Cover dough tightly with saran wrap and place in a warm, calm enviroment. I send mine to Promises Rehab. Or the microwave, or the oven (off) with the pilot light switched on.

17 hours before you'd like some bread:
Freak the fuck out and peel back the saran wrap. Dump in a little extra flour (3 tablespoons or so) and stir until combined. Re-cover, and allow to rest in peace.

17 hours after that:
Flour a sheet of parchment paper, really just cake it on, and pour the flabby dough with the aide of a spatula or your hand onto floured paper. Tuck sides until you form a tidy little ball, or a lazy, semi-rectangular slab. Dust with flour and cover with a towel or another piece of parchment. Rest for 1 to two hours.

30 minutes before the resting period is over, place your baking instrument into the oven and bake at 450 degrees for half an hour. I use a Chefmate enameled cast iron dutch oven, but others use le creuset, lodge, Pyrex bowls with a Pyrex pie dish for the "lid". I think Tupperware would be ideal, really. Or one of those plastic Thai Food storage containers. Great!

When 30 minutes is up, carefully remove pot and lid, and flop the dough inside. Cover and return to the oven as fast as you can. If not there already, up heat to 450 and bake for 30 minutes. After 30 minutes, remove the lid and bake for 10-30 minutes more, until loaf is golden brown.

Remove from oven, cool in pot for 10 minutes then carefully, carefully remove and allow to cool completely on a rack.

Notes:
No one will be able to make you feel as good about the bread as the bread makes you feel about yourself. I've never won a political election, or performed on Star Search, or been invited on to Whitesnake's tour bus, but I can only imagine that the elation that follows those events is nearly on par with what I felt the first time I made this bread.

Super Dense: Jeff Spicoli, in cake form

"You're too good for frosting, now? Is this how we RAISED you?"

This is a great recipe for those days when you just want to raise false expectations. Keep the dream alive. For Dad.

Flourless Chocolate Cake with Whipped Sour Cream and Raspberry Coulis
Cake recipe adapted from Epicurious.com

1 stick (1/2 cup) softened butter
3/4 cup semi or bittersweet chocolate chips, preferably Guittard
3/4 cup vanilla sugar
3 large eggs
1/2 cup good quality cocoa powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 375° F. Butter an 8 or 9 inch springform pan, and set aside.

Over a pan of simmering, rolling water, melt butter and chocolate together. When smooth, remove from heat, cool for three minutes and whisk in sugar. Add eggs, one at a time, whisking after each one. Add vanilla extract and cocoa powder, whisking just until cocoa powder dissolves into batter. The batter should be thick and resist movement, like Lifetime Movie relationships.

Pour batter into prepared pan, and smooth out if needed. Bake for exactly 20 minutes, top should be shiny and slightly crisp, like good brownies. Remove and allow to cool completely. Release from pan and sift powdered sugar over the top. Serve with either or both of the following.

Raspberry Coulis
2 cups frozen or fresh raspberries, thawed if frozen
2-3 tablespoons granulated sugar (less or more depending on taste)
Juice from half a lemon

In a food processor or blender, whirl together raspberries, sugar and lemon juice until a thick liquid forms -- thin with more lemon juice or a little cold water if needed. Sieve through a fine mesh strainer, pressing with the back of a spoon until all liquid is expelled. Discard seeds and pulp. Chill and serve.

Whipped Sour Cream
1 cup heavy whipping cream, chilled
3 tbs granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup sour cream
Zest of one orange

In a chilled bowl, whip cream, sugar and vanilla into stiff peaks. Fold in sour cream and orange zest to taste. Chill and serve.

These pay the bills

"If they're good enough for Deer, they're good enough for your MOTHER, Stanley."

These are very salty, like your favorite kind of Sailors.

Salt Lick Bars (Also known in proper parts of town as Millionaire's shortbread)
1 stick salted butter
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/4 cups AP flour, dip-and-sweep method

1 14 oz can Sweetened Condensed Milk
1 stick (1/2 cup) salted butter
3 tablespoons dark brown sugar
Pinch of kosher salt
1 teaspoon vanilla extract

6 ounces chocolate, milk or dark
1 tablespoon butter

Preheat oven to 350° F. Oil an 8x8 square pan and set aside

In a mixing bowl, mix softened butter with flour, salt and granulated sugar until a crumbly dough forms -- flour should be completely mixed in. Press into prepared pan, building up a bit of a wall on each side. Prick three or four times with the tines of a fork, or your fingernails, and bake for 15-20 minutes until golden and set. Remove and cool completely.

Over medium heat, medium low if you're really nervous, mix together the sweetened condensed milk, butter, salt and brown sugar until caramel forms. Stir the entire time, and don't walk away from the pot -- it might seem like it's never going to happen, but what you want is a thick, slurpy caramel that looks like caramel. It should not be pasty, it should not be thin, it should be golden and as thick as what you'd expected melted caramel to look like. And I'm for real, here. Stir the entire time, to avoid burning. It may feel like the mixture is sticking to the pan, but as long as no black or dark brown bits come up, you're fine, that's why you're stirring constantly.

If the baby has the knives, then take the pot off of the heat and go take the knives away. Those are only for Grandpa Merv.

Once you've reached caramelville, remove from heat, count to ten, add the vanilla extract stirring well (stand back, it might sputter) and pour the finished product over the shortbread crust. It will cool quickly, be fast and confident in spreading. The nice thing is that it will, or should, be thick enough to spread all the way to the edges without pooling over into the space left when the crust pulled away from the sides. Allow to cool and set, about ten minutes.

Meanwhile, pour the chocolate into a heatproof bowl. If futuristic, use the microwave to melt your chocolate on half-power (or defrost), stirring every 40 seconds or so. If Old School, use the double boiler method and melt, in a bowl, over a pot of simmering water. Once melted, glossy and no lumps remain, stir in the butter and pour over the caramel layer, smoothing and spreading if needed.

Sprinkle bars with a pinch of kosher or sea salt, as much or as little as you like. Chill completely, until set, then score and cut into small squares with a sharp knife.

Eat all of them.

(Your) Mommie Dearest's Cake

"This is all you ever gave me, mother! This and saddlebags!"

Imagine if someone did leave the cake out in the rain. Like a real live McArthur Park. What would happen?

Guess what. I'd still eat it.

Damp Chocolate Cake
Adapted from Amanda/Judith Hesser "Cooking for Mr. Latte"

2 cups sugar
4 ounces bittersweet (70% or so) chocolate
1 cup cold water
1 stick unsalted butter
2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
1 cup milk
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 teaspoon cider vinegar
2 eggs

Preheat oven to 375° F. Grease two round, 9-inch cake pans with butter and dust with cocoa powder. Once pans are coated, tap over sink or trash to get rid of any excess cocoa.

Over medium heat, melt butter, chocolate, sugar and water in a medium saucepan until completely fluid and lump-free. Remove from heat and cool completely.

Add cider vinegar and vanilla extract to milk, stirring to combine. Add eggs, milk/vinegar/vanilla to chocolate mixture, and whisk well. Add flour mixture in 3 stages, stirring well after each. Divide batter between prepped pans, and bake for 25-30 minutes, until tops are dry, skewer combs out with fudgey (but not wet, and no raw batter) crumbs sticking to it. Cool in pan, then remove and place on a rack to cool completely.

Frosting

For the frosting, Hesser instructs the baker to melt chocolate chips (I used bittersweet) and combine, once cool, with the same amount of room temperature sour cream. I did as told (using 1 cup and 1 cup, respectively), and added the zest of one orange, 1 teaspoon of vanilla extract and the seeds of half a vanilla bean to the sour cream.

Using a generous amount of the frosting, slather the top of one layer and place the second layer on top. Repeat. If you want to make a double batch, frost the sides. I didn't. And look where that got me.

The good kind of Crusty

"You need to cover yourself when guests come over. We're renting. There are rules."

Guess what. This wasn't made with key limes. Guess what else. It wasn't made with fingernails, either.

Lime Pie
Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

1 packet of graham crackers (about 1 ½ cups of crumbs)
½ cup vanilla sugar
¾ stick butter, melted
½ teaspoon kosher salt

1 14 oz tin of sweetened condensed milk
4 large egg yolks, room temperature
½ cup lime juice (Or just over: I top mine off with the juice from half a meyer lemon)
2 tablespoons vanilla sugar
¼ teaspoon kosher salt
Zest from one lime

1 cup cold, fresh heavy cream
¼ cup vanilla sugar, depending on taste

Preheat oven to 350° F.

Crush graham crackers inside a Ziploc bag or food processor until even, pebbly small crumbs commence. Pour into a bowl, add salt and vanilla sugar and mix with melted butter until moist. Press into the bottom and sides of a 9 inch springform pan and bake for 10-12 minutes, until edges are golden brown and crisp. Remove and cool completely.

Turn down oven to 325 degrees. Meanwhile, whisk the sweetened condensed milk, lime zest, vanilla sugar, salt and egg yolks together until well combined.  Add the lime juice, whisking quickly, until the mixture is smooth and liquid. Pour into cooled crust and bake for 16 minutes, checking after 14 – pie should have no color, should look set but quiver slightly when pan is pushed or set down. Like the face of a paunchy, frightened 37 year old who lives in his mother's basement. Remove from oven and cool, on rack, completely. Chill for at least five hours before serving. I'm serious. Chill.

To serve, whip cream and vanilla sugar in a chilled bowl until voluminous, slightly stiff peaks form. Spread lightly in the center of the pie, dash with another bit of lime zest, and serve.