Striped Italian Cookies, This is Christmas

I’d like to make a confession.  I did not buy a Christmas tree this year.  There.  I said it.

Since I moved to Boston nearly a decade ago, I’ve only missed this one other time.  And it was because I was in a deep, dark drift in a year-long residency on my way to becoming a registered dietitian.  At the time, I was pretty much living in a hospital basement.  Never seeing daylight.  And spending time alongside instant read thermometers, a temperamental chef, and very large kitchen kettles.

Don’t be fooled. This was not romantic.

This year, I just feel tired.  Like an it feels hard to hold my bones up kind of tired.  So I decided to take a one-year evergreen hiatus.  It feels good to type this.

This is not to say I’ve gone Grinchy on you.  I was still able to enjoy the annual Christmas cookie conclave (years one and two here).  The event is my gustatory equivalent of caroling, except that it involves breaking champagne flutes, eating raw cookie dough, and Harry Connick Jr.

My friend, Justin, went so far as to claim this year “the year of the nut.”  And there were four of them.  Baking a clatter of non-traditional, very un-heteronormative Christmas cookies. Nary a gingerbread man in sight.

We baked molasses cookies.  Dark chocolate bark with pistachios, rose petals, and a smidge too much sea salt.  Chocolate shortbreads studded with (more) pistachios. 

Peanut butter kisses made with bourbon—instead of milk—because my friend Theresa didn’t have milk.  (Now bourbon, bourbon she had in spades.) Chai almond wedding cookies. 

Plus those Italian rainbow cookies made with almond paste, but colored pink and blue (which turned a grayish purple in the oven).  Because I am clinging to Christmas postmodernism in light of my tree laziness this year.

Let’s talk about these rainbow numbers (which I am rebranding as “striped” here and now). They are the kind of cookie that’s—quite frankly—a huge pain in the ass to make.  They require three square baking pans (or “pans” fashioned out of foil, if you don’t fully read through the recipe instructions).  And the washing of ample bowls.

But they get better and better the longer they sit.  Which, in my book, is a huge win.  They also come in thick, rich, and gloriously chewy.  And they’re slicked with the slightly bitter, gutsy chocolate from local hero, Taza. 

The recipe is from one of my most favorite restaurants, Torrisi Italian Specialties.  These boys do know their way around an Italian specialty or two.

The cookies are also easily tinted to your whims.  Yes, Christmas is Wednesday.  But color the stripes whatever shade you damn well please. 

Striped Italian Cookies

bon appétit via Torrisi Italian Specialties

Ingredients:

2 cups unsalted butter, softened and cubed (plus more for buttering the pan)

6 eggs, separated

1-1/3 cups sugar, divided

12 ounces almond paste, very roughly chopped

½ tsp kosher salt

2¾ cups plus 1 tbsp flour, sifted

2 colors of food coloring

¾ cups marmalade

4 to 5 ounces dark chocolate (preferably Taza chocolate Mexican disks, if available)

Instructions:

Set the oven to 350 degrees.  Butter generously and line three 13 x 9 x 2 baking pans with foil, leaving overhang.  (Don’t have three same-sized pans?  The batter is pretty thick and you can fashion “baking pans” out of foil.) 

In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the egg whites and whisk until soft peaks form.  Slowly add 1/3 cup of sugar and whisk until stiff peaks form; transfer to a medium bowl, cover, and chill until needed.

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, beat the almond paste and remaining 1 cup sugar on medium low until well incorporated (this will take a few minutes); increase the speed slightly and gradually add the 2 cups butter; beat until fluffy.  On medium low, beat in egg yolks, salt, and then the flour a third at a time. Fold in the egg whites in two additions.

Divide the batter into equal quantities among three bowls.  Color two of the mixtures using food coloring (one color per bowl; you’ll need to use at least a tsp of coloring for each). Leave the third bowl plain.  Spread each batter into its own prepared pan; smooth the tops and bake, rotating the pans half way through, until just set (about 10 to 15 minutes).  Let cool in pans.

When ready to assemble, warm the marmalade so that it easily spreads.  (If there’s a lot of thick orange peel chunks, you’ll want to strain them, but I did not need to do this with the brand I used.) On the cake layer that you will eventually want on top, spread half of the marmalade with a pastry brush.  Grabbing the sides of the foil, lift the layer that you want in the middle of the cookie, invert it, and place it on top of the layer brushed with marmalade (making sure to line up the sides as best as you can.)  Gently peel off the foil and then cover the middle layer with the remaining marmalade.  Grabbing the sides of the foil of the third layer, gently lift it out of the pan, invert it, and place over the middle layer.

Cover the top completely with foil, top with a baking pan of similar size, and place a few canned goods in the pan to compress the layers. Refrigerate for at least 4 hours (or up to 1 day). 

When ready to finish, remove the cans and pan and foil, and invert the cake onto a piece of parchment paper.  Gently warm the chocolate.  Spread half of the just melted chocolate on the top layer of the cake.  Place in the freezer for 10 minutes. 

Cover the chocolate layer with parchment paper and flip the cake; uncover and glaze with remaining chocolate (rewarm it slightly if the chocolate has started to thicken).  Freeze for 10 more minutes.  Then trim the edges so they are even and cut into 1½ inch squares.  Store in an airtight container.

Makes roughly 50 cookies

Notes:

-I provided a range for the chocolate because we needed just a little bit more to fully cover the cake.  I wasn’t exact with the pan sizing though.

-I didn’t use a double boiler for the chocolate.  I just warmed it in a saucepan on low and then let the remaining bits of chocolate melt off the heat.  Feel free to make your life a little easier with this one.

-The plate shown features many of the aforementioned cookies.  I couldn’t be trusted with them at home any longer, as my note indicates.

Peychaud’s Fallen Chocolate Soufflé Cake, a Stunner to End All Others

I organized an East versus West Coast IPA tasting on Saturday night.  You can see the setup here.  Please note, the seemly Real Simple-esque picture does not show you the destruction that follows when four people consume 160 ounces of high-octane brew in a single-blind tasting.

We tasted.

Peak Organic Brewing Company’s IPA, Portland, ME (7.1% ABV)

Somerville Brewing Company’s Slumbrew Flagraiser IPA, Ipswich, MA (7.5% ABV)

Brewmaster Jack’s Ambrewsia Imperial IPA, Holyoke, MA (7.7% ABV)

21^st Amendment Brewery’s Brew Free! Or Die IPA, San Francisco, CA (7.0% ABV)

Sierra Nevada Brewing Co.’s Torpedo Extra IPA, Chico, CA (7.2% ABV)

Bear Republic Brewing Company’s Racer 5 IPA, Healdsburg, CA (7% ABV)

Sixpoint Brewery’s Bengali Tiger IPA, Brooklyn, NY (6.4% ABV)

We commented.

“Smells like Heineken; tastes dirty.”

“I want to like it, but it has an odd finish—like dishwater.”

“A good IPA for winter—a woodsman’s beer.”

“Smells like my gym bag.” “Fruity, but a bit like B.O.”

“Tastes like clean plants, like you watered the lawn and then drank it.”

“Caramel smell; almost brown butter-like; like a financier.”

“I want to drink this on a boat.”

“Blek.”

We ate.

An entire loaf of no-knead bread studded with chunky flecks of fleur de sel intended to balance the sweetish bitter brews. 

Plus a few narrow strips of rye focaccia I had squirreled away for such an occasion, with a version of Yotam Ottolenghi’s hummus, spiked with cumin.

And slices of fallen soufflé cake.  Also known as the cake to end all chocolate cakes. 

Lest you think this cake praise was swayed by consuming my weight in high-powered IPAs—let  me assure you—I had it for breakfast the next morning.  It was good, if not better, in its following days.

Its inspiration came from a beautiful photo in Gather Journal mashed with a riff on the late Richard Sax’s chocolate cloud cake in bon appétit's most recent edition.  It’s a rich, yet light cake with an almost cheesecake-like quality.  I ruffled it up with a little Peychaud’s bitters.  Though you can’t taste the Peychaud’s, I believe its subtle anise and nutmeg notes add warmth to the cake, deepening it. 

The decision to dust or not to dust with powdered sugar is yours, and yours alone to make, though I think I prefer the look without it.  What you cannot forgo is the sprinkling of sugar on top, which adds an additive crunch and a hint of sweetness to an otherwise mildly sweetened cake. The powdered sugar had dissolved into the cake the following morning, letting the glints of crystallized sugar shimmer through again.  Which was how I preferred it in the first place. 

“This gal’s a stunner.”

Peychaud’s Fallen Chocolate Soufflé Cake

Inspired by bon appétit and Gather Journal

Ingredients:

½ cup (1 stick) butter, cut into 1-inch pieces (plus more for the pan)

¾ cup plus 2 tbsp sugar, divided (plus more for the pan) 

10 ounces 60-80% Taza dark chocolate, roughly chopped

2 tbsp canola oil

6 eggs, divided

2 tbsp unsweetened cocoa powder

3 tbsp Peychaud’s bitters

1 tsp vanilla extract

¾ tsp kosher salt

powdered sugar (optional)

Instructions:

Set the oven at 350 degrees.  Butter a 9-inch springform pan and dust with (the granulated) sugar; tap lightly to remove any excess.  In a large heatproof bowl set over simmering water, combine the butter, dark chocolate, and oil.  Stir until the chocolate and butter melts.  (You can take the bowl off the simmering water before everything has fully melted; it will continue to melt from the residual heat.)

Meanwhile, separate 4 of the eggs.  Place the whites in a stand mixer and the yolks in a medium bowl.  To the yolks, add the cocoa powder, bitters, vanilla, salt, ¼ cup of sugar, and the 2 remaining eggs.  Whisk until smooth.

Once the chocolate butter mixture has fully melted (be sure it’s well combined), gradually whisk in the yolk mixture.

Beat the egg whites on high until frothy and then gradually add in ½ cup sugar, with the mixer still running.  Beat until firm peaks form.  Gently fold the whites into the chocolate in 2 additions, until the mixture is just incorporated.

Pour the batter into the prepared springform pan.  Smooth the top and sprinkle with the remaining 2 tbsp of sugar.  Bake for 35-45 minutes, until the cake is puffed, starting to crack, and the edges start to pull away from the sides of the pan.  Let cool fully in the pan on a wire rack before releasing it.  The cake will collapse slightly and continue to crack and pull away from the sides of the pan as it cools.  Dust with powdered sugar, if desired.

Serves 8

Notes:

-This cake is flourless, which could be perfect for the start of Passover.  I’m no expert in religious dietary restrictions, though I seem to think the Peychaud’s (and possibly vanilla) might be problematic….

-Keep any leftovers in an airtight container.  Mine was gone after 2 days, but definitely kept wonderfully in the interim.  (Also, I used a mixture of Taza bars that probably averaged out to 70% dark.)

- bon appétit serves this cake with a mascarpone whipped cream scooped into the center, which I’m sure would be splendid, as well.

-P.s. the winners of the tasting were Peak Organic and 21^st Amendment.  Slumbrew did very well too.  I won't discuss some of the others, because it's mean.

The Epitome of Pickle

Behold, a list of things I am suspicious of:  Raw garlic. Men in fedoras.  Colonics.  Bartenders who make negronis in martini glasses. (Please note: they should be served on the rocks.  In an old-fashioned glass.  With an orange slice.  Like you were making them for your eighty-seven year-old grandfather.) B-complex vitamins. People who claim to dislike cake. And, most recently, a forgotten pickle recipe ripped from the pages of bon appétit. 

I had clipped the page for its featured triple beef burger with spiced ketchup.  At one point in time, I was suspicious of people who used condiments like "spiced ketchup." But after developing an unhealthy attachment to the lamb burgers and fries with with homemade mace-laced ketchup at Matt Murphy’s in Brookline Village I have since changed my tune.  I would be nothing but a saucy, tomato-faced hypocrite.

Anyways, on my slightly rumpled tear out —low and behold—there was a pickle recipe by a Mr. Tony Maws.  Initially, I admit, I had my doubts. It seemed to contain less vinegar than I’m accustomed to.  And a bit more salt.  I am certainly not salt shy, but I was burned by a cured scallop recipe once; I haven’t been able to look at the mollusk the same since.  I am not, however, skeptical of the food that Maws creates. So, I threw caution to the wind and pickled as I was told. And then waited—a little impatiently—until I was able to finally bite into one.

Now, I am typically very, very distrusting of hyperbole—sniffing out superlatives with the best of them—but I am one-hundred and ten percent confident in saying that this recipe makes the finest pickles around.  I'm quite sure this is what all other pickles strive to be. Perfectly seasoned.  Impossibly crisp.  Top dog.  Most excellent.  Textbook. Spot on. A condiment to judge all others. You get the idea.  A pickle apotheosis.

Pickle Spears

Adapted from Tony Maws of Craigie on Main via bon appétit

Ingredients:

2¼ cups water

2/3 cup white vinegar

4 sprigs of fresh dill

2 tbsp kosher salt

1½ tsp whole black peppercorns

1 tsp pink peppercorns

2 tsp fennel seeds

1 tsp brown mustard seeds

1 tsp juniper berries

1 bay leaf

1 serrano chile

About 4-5 pickling cumbers (or about 1 pound)

Instructions:

Bring all the ingredients (except the pickles) to a boil in a large saucepan and stir occasionally until the salt dissolves.  Meanwhile, slice the pickles into spears and place them in a glass container that will allow for the pickles to be fully covered with the brining liquid.  (I used a Weck jar.)  Just be sure your jar can withstand the heat of the hot liquid.  When the salt has dissolved, pour your brine over the liquid and allow to cool slightly.  Cover and refrigerate overnight, ideally at least 24 hours, before eating.  The pickles will keep for a few weeks in the fridge.

Makes about 15-20 pickles

Notes:

-In his recipe, Tony also calls for 6-1/8 inch rounds of peeled fresh horseradish; 2 tsp coriander seeds; ½ tsp whole allspice; and ½ large red onion, thinly sliced.  He uses red wine vinegar, as well.  I didn’t have any of these things on hand, since I hadn’t really been planning to pickle and all. So I added some pink peppercorns, subbed brown mustard seeds for the yellow variety, and slightly adjusted some of the spice ratios.  (Of course, the spice amounts are rough estimates.) I guess what I’m saying is that there is room to play.  Though I’ll definitely be back with horseradish and red onion next time.

-This is not a pickle that is bracing with vinegar.  The recipe honors the cucumber, treats it in a way that summer produce should be treated.

-Maw's favorite burgers in Boston.

The Thunder of Taza Chocolate Truffle Ice Cream

The best way to describe this ice cream is to say it tastes like dark clouds and thunderbolts.  

Perhaps this is because I made it during a raging thunderstorm.  The kind that sparks bright white shards from thick, black clouds and seems intent on shattering up the sky.  The kind that swirls thickly around, gaining momentum from hot summer nights. The kind that pairs perfectly with ice cream so rich it makes you want to sin.

This ice cream is thick, explosively deep, dark, and intense. It booms along, warning: danger, chocolate approaching.  In the best possible way.  It is frozen custard of finest quality.

I started this process late last Monday evening.  It started to thunder. And pour.  Like the dickens.  Outside, first.  And then inside my apartment.

I had two choices: leave the chocolate custard on the stovetop and risk curdling or, baby, let it rain.  My wet coffee pot dried eventually. 

When this custard sets up, it lands somewhere between chocolate pudding and mousse.  And it easily reaches death-by-chocolate proportions prior to being spun into ice cream.  But the cold bites of chewy chocolate are worth waiting for. (It’s done churning and ready for the freezer when it becomes so thick that it literally stops moving.)

The recipe is from an old bon appétit that features (the fantastic) Mr. and Mrs. Fergus Henderson of St. JOHN restaurant in London. It came with a caption that read: the chocolate ice cream is so rich, it doesn’t melt—it just gets truffley.

Lusty spoonfuls are soon to follow.

Taza Chocolate Truffle Ice Cream

Adapted from bon appétite by way of Fergus Henderson of St. JOHN BAR and RESTAURANT

Ingredients:

7 ounces Taza 70% Cacao Puro Chocolate Mexicano chocolate (or other high quality chocolate), roughly chopped into shards

2 cups plus 2 tbsp whole milk

1/3 cup unsweetened cocoa powder

pinch of salt

6 large egg yolks

13 tbsp sugar, divided

¼ cup heavy cream

Instructions:

Place the chocolate shards into a metal bowl small enough to fit over a saucepan of barely simmering water.  Stir chocolate until melted and smooth; set aside.

Whisk milk, cocoa powder, and pinch of salt together in a medium saucepan over medium heat until it just comes to a rolling boil; set aside.

Using a stand or handheld mixer, beat egg yolks and 7 tbsp of the sugar until very thick, light yellow ribbons form (this will take a few minutes). Whisking constantly, gradually add the hot cocoa milk mixture to the egg yolk mixture, a few tablespoons at a time.  Be very cautious with this and add the mixture slowly so that the egg does not curdle.  Once all the milk has been added, return the mixture to a saucepan; add the melted chocolate and whisk to fully combine.

Stir the mixture on medium-low heat until it starts to thicken up (this will take a few minutes; the article says to let it come to 175 degrees, I pulled mine off just around that mark, though I think it could have been pulled off a little sooner, without any negative effects).  Fill a large bowl with ice.  Strain the chocolate custard using a fine mesh metal strainer and transfer it to a metal bowl; sit the bowl of custard inside the bowl of ice, stirring occasionally to help it cool.

Meanwhile, make caramel by combining the remaining 6 tbsp of sugar with 2 tbsp of water and bring it to a boil in a saucepan over medium high heat, swirling the mixture occasionally.  Watch carefully and swirl to dissolve and then brown the sugar; do not stir or your sugar mixture may crystallize.  (It is often recommended to brush the sides of the pan down with a wet pastry brush, but I never seem to have to do this by simply swirling occasionally and avoiding spoons at all cost.)  When the sugar turns a dark amber, gradually add in the cream, swirling it around to help it combine (it will spatter and spew).  Using a rubber spatula, now stir the mixture to combine.  Whisk the caramel slowly into the cooled chocolate custard.

Cover and chill the custard in the fridge for two days (it will get thick) and then churn in a frozen ice cream machine base until the mixture thickens and starts to pull away from the sides of the bowl (this took me about 20 minutes and the custard pretty much grinded to a halt).  Pack into a freezer safe container and cover with parchment paper. Freeze three days before eating.

Makes a little short of a quart

Notes:

-The recipe has the custard sit (in the fridge and then in the freezer) for a total of five days before eating it.  This is said to deepen the flavor.  It took the chefs at St. John years to finalize the recipe.  So I just did what I was told.

-If you’d like to buy Taza chocolate (it’s wonderful), you can here.

-This would take quite kindly to a sprinkling of fleur de sel.

By Chance, Spiced Banana Bread with Cinnamon Crumble Topping

This banana bread happened by chance.  I was hungry for comfort.  I had gone to the market to make roast chicken and ended up with a bunch of bananas in my bag that did not belong to me.  I believe in things like that.  I took it to mean that I desperately needed banana-related baked goods in my immediate future.

As a general rule, I’m not good at anticipating banana bread.  You have to buy bananas and then get comfortable with them sitting quietly, turning into what look like intensely spotted yellow and brown giraffe necks.  I just can’t get relaxed about that sort of thing.  But I can get relaxed about eating banana bread.  So I let them ripen.  And then got to work.

This bread has since been slathered with warm memories.  I made it for a trip I took with some friends to the Adirondack Mountains.  On Saturday morning, we stood around the camp kitchen island and sliced off bits while we chatted and the coffee pot worked overtime.  As we reduced the bread to a mere nub, my mother flipped enough pumpkin pancakes to feed a forest of lumberjacks.  

We laughed a lot that weekend.  We tasted wine from a local winery called Montezuma, tried on fur hats, talked about hot cinnamon-sugared donuts, and visited quite possibly the most quintessential general store on the East Coast.

We also enjoyed our fair share of banana bread.  And so I’ve begun think of this recipe as living in the company of warm friends and brisk mornings.  It’s spiced with cardamom, ginger, and allspice and the crunchy cinnamon sugar crust just begs to be paired with a good cup of coffee and a companion or two.  It’s a fairly new recipe to me, but it already feels seasoned. It’s just that kind of bread.  The kind that makes you thankful for good friends and overripe bananas. 

Spiced Banana Bread with Cinnamon Crumble Topping

Adapted from Molly Wizenberg from Orangette

Ingredients:

The bread

1.5 cups all purpose flour

1 cup sugar

1 tsp ground cinnamon

1/2 tsp ground ginger

1/2 tsp ground cardamom (freshly ground if possible)

1/2 tsp ground allspice

1 tsp baking soda

1/2 tsp kosher salt

1 cup mashed bananas (about 3 bananas)

2 large eggs

1/2 cup olive oil

1/4 cup honey

1/4 cup water

(Plus butter and additional flour for the loaf pan)

The topping

2 tbsp sugar

1 tsp ground cinnamon

2.5 tbsp packed dark brown sugar

Instructions:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.  Butter and flour a 9 x 5 loaf pan.  In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, sugar, spices, baking soda, and salt.  In a large bowl, combine the banana, eggs, oil, honey, and water.  Add the flour mixture to the banana mixture and stir until combined.  Pour the batter into the buttered and floured loaf pan.

In a small bowl, mix the topping ingredients; sprinkle the topping on top of the batter.  Bake for about an hour or until a toothpick or cake tester comes about clean.  Cool the bread in its pan on a wire rack for 30 minutes and then remove the bread from the pan.  (Run a knife along the edges of the pan to loosen it; it may take some gentle coaxing and slight side tilting to remove the loaf, but you should be able to do it without losing much of the crumb topping.)  

Yield: 1 loaf

Notes:

-The cardamom really comes through in this loaf.  It's a nice change of pace from a standard banana bread and goes well with the crunchy cinnamon topping, but feel free to leave it off if you aren't keen on the spice.

-You may be inclined to forgo the topping, but it really makes the bread and moves it one step closer to coffee cake.  And this is a very, very good thing.

-This is a version of a version.  Molly Wizenberg attributes this recipe to Bakesale Betty and Bon Appétit.