Category Archives: baking

Cookie, cookie, cookie, is good enough for me!

Pine nut cook­ies, or pig­noli cook­ies as my Ital­ian (say it like an Irish-American, “Eye-talyan”) friends might call them, are some­thing I have always wanted to try. Martha Stew­art pub­lished a recipe that looked do-able, so I gave it a go the other day. The ver­dict? What a pain in the ass for a tasty cookie. I did not fol­low the recipe in terms of the size of the lit­tle balls of cookie dough, and then I over­baked the first batch, as you can see in the back. The sec­ond batch, while still over­sized, came out right, and they were awfully good, but I don’t think I’d make the recipe again. Why? Sev­eral rea­sons– first, I had to buy marzi­pan, and now I have a half a tube I didn’t use in the recipe that I have to find a use for. Sec­ond, this dough is sooooo sticky. I got out the can of olive oil Pam and sprayed my hands over and over again while I was rolling the balls of dough in the pine nuts, and when it was over, there was dough every­where, and I had to scrub my Pam can. Finally? I am sure this is the ne plus ultra of pig­noli cookie recipes, but I’d rather have a macaroon.

Lemon Rose­mary Corn­meal Short­bread. Mmm. You need to make this one. Look at the greasy parch­ment paper! This is a recipe I adapted from Fine Cooking’s 2005 Hol­i­day Bak­ing issue. I love Fine Cook­ing. I have never had a recipe go wrong, and they are usu­ally pretty fuss-free. And when they are fussy, it’s always worth it. This recipe came to me as a hybrid with a rose­mary but­ter cookie recipe I saw in a Martha cookie porn pub­li­ca­tion from a few years ago, so I thought I would try to com­bine all the fla­vors. It worked, and these will now be a part of the rota­tion of cook­ies I will actu­ally bake.

Lemon Rose­mary Corn­meal Short­bread Bars

Adapted from Fine Cook­ing Hol­i­day Bak­ing 2005, orig­i­nal recipe by Abi­gail John­son Dodge

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour (King Arthur Flour if you can get it)
1 cup finely ground yel­low corn­meal (I used Goya’s, which is also labeled “masa harina”)
1/2 tea­spoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups soft­ened unsalted but­ter
1 3/4 cups pow­dered sugar
Zest of 1 lemon (love my Microplane zester)
Juice of one lemon, strained for seeds
Nee­dles of 2–3 rose­mary branches, washed and finely chopped.

Heat oven to 325F. Grease a 9 x 13 bak­ing pan– I use Pyrex. Line the bot­tom of the pan with parch­ment. (I just stuffed an over­sized piece of parch­ment I couldn’t be both­ered to trim in there, and it over­hung the sides. The edge pieces were not so nice, but I could lift the cook­ies out of the pan alto­gether, for trans­fer­ring to the cut­ting board for cutting.)

In a medium bowl, whisk the flour, corn­meal, and salt. In a large bowl, cream the but­ter, sugar, lemon zest and rose­mary until light and creamy, 3–4 min­utes. It should look like the fluffi­est frost­ing you’ve ever had. Scrape the bowl, adding the flour mix­ture in two batches on low speed. The dough will look moist and clumpy.

Trans­fer the dough to the pan. With a rub­ber spat­ula sprayed with veg­etable or olive oil, smoothe the bat­ter into the cor­ners of the pan, try­ing for an even thick­ness. If you like, use a long knife or bench scraper to mark the dough into 1 x 2 1/2 inch bars. (I didn’t bother.) Bake until the top looks dry and golden brown, 35–40 minutes.

Trans­fer the pan to a rack. Imme­di­ately use your knife or bench scraper (I used a bench scraper) to cut your short­bread– if you don’t do it while it’s warm, it will be too crumbly later.) Let the bars cool in the pan before remov­ing them with a small spatula.

Note: The rose­mary fla­vor is more pro­nounced after spend­ing a night, wrapped in plas­tic wrap, in a tin or tup­per­ware container.

Oh.My.Goodness. These are awfully good. You need to make them. Now. These are a vari­a­tion on the Brownie Thins recipe pub­lished in December’s Bon Appetit, and avail­able at Epi­cu­ri­ous. The vari­a­tions aren’t enough to re-write the whole recipe, so I will just note instead that instead of doing the plas­tic wrap trick to flat­ten the sticky sticky cookie dough, I just sprayed the back of a serv­ing spoon with olive oil cook­ing spray every third cookie, and used the back of the spoon to flat­ten the dough balls. The other thing is this– I don’t have any chopped pis­ta­chios and am not that wild about them any­way, so I used cashew pieces instead. And finally, evil genius that I try to be, after the cook­ies were cool­ing on their rack, I driz­zled them with dulce de leche sauce I had in the pantry, because really, a brownie is good, but a caramel cashew tur­tle brownie is bet­ter. I baked these on sil­pat lin­ers, and you should know that the cook­ies are very frag­ile– I would actu­ally spray my lin­ers with cook­ing spray for extra detach­ing power next time. And, I used a very thin metal cookie spat­ula to detach the cook­ies, because my reg­u­lar non­stick one was mak­ing me break the cook­ies. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go back to my cook­ies and milk for breakfast.

Saturday is cooking day

… alter­nately titled, In Which Vast Quan­ti­ties of Sugar and Fat are Con­sumed. Oh, yeah. Yes­ter­day was a busy day. We had brunch at my SIL’s, and in prepa­ra­tion there­for, I made a crust­less bacon & onion quiche for 8. It’s a very low fat recipe– just 10 eggs, 1 cup heavy cream, 5 strips bacon & a large onion, browned together in a pan, salt, white pep­per, and nut­meg, stirred together and baked for 20–25 min­utes until browned at the edges and set in the mid­dle at 375F. Very diet-conscious.


I also made Dorie Greenspan’s Swedish Vis­it­ing Cake. This cake has been get­ting raves all over teh intar­webz, and let me tell you, nom nom nom nom nom. It’s good. So good, in fact, that we made another one this morn­ing, just to enjoy for our­selves. The BH actu­ally made this one and took its pic­ture this morn­ing– but the one we brought to his sister’s yes­ter­day was also a hit. The recipe is dead easy, since it only requires two bowls and a fork or wooden spoon to make. Our ver­sion had two changes from the orig­i­nal, link above– we had no vanilla, so we used lemon extract in place, and we had no sliced almonds to sprin­kle on top, just whole skinned almonds– so we just bashed them with a meat ten­der­izer and sprin­kled them on top.


Then, after we got home, I started mak­ing sup­per for our friend L, who cel­e­brates her birth­day today. Since today was sup­posed to be messy and ucky with a snow and ice storm (and is, in fact, messy and ucky), I pro­posed we make her din­ner last night instead. Accom­mo­dat­ing soul that she is, she agreed. L. is also an accom­plished cook and baker, so it’s always fun to cook for her, and I can try some­thing new on her and she will appre­ci­ate the exper­i­ment. I decided to make some­thing that’s been sit­ting in my com­puter recipe file for a while– Rose Prince’s Poached Chicken with Leeks. (Scroll down for the recipe after click­ing on the link.) Peo­ple, meet your new chicken crack. I did make the fol­low­ing vari­a­tion– in place of the 900 ml (3/4 quart) of chicken stock, I used 300 ml white wine (pinot gri­gio) and 600 ml (1/2 quart) stock. I didn’t have and couldn’t find fresh tar­ragon, so I dry-brined the chicken parts with 3 tbsps. salt, 1 tbsp. white pep­per, and 1 1/2 tbsps. Penzey’s dried tar­ragon for an hour before brown­ing the parts and poach­ing them. I tested my chicken at 30 min. and found it was done, so I removed it from the stock/wine mix­ture, ladled the stock into a fat sep­a­ra­tor, poured the defat­ted stock back in (leav­ing a good 1/3 cup ren­dered chicken grease), and then stirred in the cream and the leeks as called for. I removed the skin from the chicken parts and then added them back in, cov­er­ing and leav­ing on low heat for 10 min­utes. Served with but­tered rice dressed with the juice of 1/2 a fresh squeezed lemon and green beans, it was the per­fect warm­ing sup­per. Of the broth, L. said, “you need to bot­tle this.” I just had some more for lunch, and yeah, I do.

Finally, what’s a birth­day with­out a birth­day cake? I am not a huge choco­late fan, but L. is, so I knew I had to make a choco­late cake. I have got Julia Child’s Reine de Saba cake down, and it’s been my go-to grownup’s choco­late cake for years. When it’s done right, noth­ing matches it for choco­latey rich­ness. Well, until this cake– Dorie Greenspan’s Choco­late Arma­gnac Cake. My vari­a­tions from the recipe are: 1) I used almond meal instead of pecans, since I have almond meal already made in my freezer, and 2) I did not have arma­gnac, but have used bour­bon as a sub­sti­tute before, since it is also woody and sweet, like arma­gnac– so I used bour­bon to flame the lit­tle bits of chopped prunes that I think are key to mak­ing this cake so rich, yet light, and melt­ingly moist. So, now I have a new favorite choco­late cake. The recipe is a lit­tle bit more fid­dly than the Reine de Saba, but it’s worth it.

Black­berry ice cream went amaz­ingly well with the cake. I’d just guessed that it might, since I didn’t want to bring home vanilla, and there wasn’t any Haagen-Dazs rasp­berry gelato, my usual go-to for accom­pa­ny­ing choco­late birth­day cake.

The chicken recipe, espe­cially, deserves to be part of your cho­les­terol and triglyc­eride count.

Gluten free peanut butter cookies

I am not a huge peanut but­ter afi­cionada, but I do like a peanut but­ter cookie. I was intrigued by the recipe Shauna had at Gluten Free Girl, and kicked off my hol­i­day bak­ing with her recipe– with a few tweaks, of course. I use Ted­die Peanut But­ter, since it’s made in the town where I grew up, and is no sugar added to boot. I only had the Super Chunky, though the recipe calls for creamy. And, I had a bunch of bulk roasted, salted red­skin peanuts from the co-op that I’d bought in con­tem­pla­tion of peanut brit­tle, so I added them to the plate of sugar in which I rolled the balls of cookie dough.

That said, the recipe is really easy to put together. I didn’t read the quan­tity descrip­tion right, though, and made more than the recipe called for, so I needed to adjust the bak­ing time. Too, my oven now seems to be about 50 degrees off, so I needed to cook the cook­ies longer than called for, and over­cooked the first batch. The cook­ies won’t look cooked when you take them out, and they will feel soft to the touch. Never fear, they will firm up.

Serve with cold milk. The remain­ders, even the over­cooked ones, were very pop­u­lar at the BH’s work the next day. One of his cowork­ers threat­ened to kiss me.

Some accomplishments

The BH and I took the T to the mechanic’s, picked up the car with the newly-replaced win­dow, and drove up to the FedEx depot near the BH’s work to pick up a pack­age that ended up being a sur­prise present from my won­der­ful assis­tant. Dropped the BH off at his office to do some work, went toward home. I broke my chain super­mar­ket res­o­lu­tion because I was feel­ing super woozy on day 4 of 900 mg Lithium XR, got the shop­ping done, got some Christ­mas lights at the local hard­ware store, fin­ished the rest of the gro­cery shop­ping at the local co-op, and came home. After get­ting the refrig­er­at­a­bles into the fridge and freezer, my spin­ning head and I promptly fell into bed for a two hour nap. When I got up, I dec­o­rated our teeny tree and my hur­ri­cane glasses. I have almost fig­ured out how to keep my liq­uid intake up enough to keep up with Lithium Thirst– but then the doc­tor ups my dose again, and my poor blad­der enters another round of stretching.

The floor dust­ing and mop­ping is just going to have to wait. As will the bak­ing, and the candy mak­ing. Which can’t hap­pen until the floors are clean. I don’t know why– I just know they can’t.

Gluten free roasted squash, caramelized onion, and ricotta tart

Deb at Smit­ten Kitchen had a recipe for a But­ter­nut Squash and Caramelized Onion Gal­lette that looked deli­cious. Since I can’t resist tin­ker­ing, and since I wanted to make a gluten free crust, my end result has a more cracker-y, pizza-like crust, but it’s still a good way to use up my Boston Organ­ics squash and onions.

Heat oven to 425F. Peel and chop a but­ter­nut squash into small chunks. Place on a bak­ing sheet (lined with foil or a Sil­pat is eas­ier clean-up), and sea­son with salt, Mignonette Pep­per and Pow­dered Rose­mary. Spray with olive oil cook­ing spray until coated, and roast in oven 20 min­utes. Stir squash, roast another 10 minutes.

Peel and halve, then thinly slice three small yel­low onions. In a large saute pan, melt 1/2 c. salted but­ter, add the onions, some salt, rose­mary, and mignonette pep­per, and stir. Reduce heat to low, and cover, stir­ring occa­sion­ally until golden and caramelized, approx. 30 minutes.

Once the onions and squash have started cook­ing, make the dough. In a food proces­sor, place 1 stick salted but­ter, chopped straight from the freezer into tbsp. size chunks. Add 3/4 lb. chick­pea flour. Pulse until it forms a coarse meal. Add 2 tbsp. lemon juice, 1/3 cup full fat plain yogurt or sour cream, 1/4 cup cold water. Pulse until it forms a thick bat­ter, stop­ping to scrape down the sides of the work­bowl and redis­trib­ute clumps. The dough will be very sticky. When the dough has come together, scrape it out of the work­bowl onto a lined cookie sheet. The dough should have the tex­ture of a pasta frolla or pate sucree– very short, very soft, very greasy and mal­leable with the hands. Pat the dough out until it cov­ers the cookie sheet and is an even width.

Spray with olive oil cook­ing spray, pierce with a fork, and par­bake, 10 minutes.

Your roasted squash should look some­thing like this:

Your onions should look some­thing like this:

When the dough is done par­bak­ing, take it out, and sprin­kle the squash and onions across the dough, so there is a thin coat­ing across the dough.


Grate on a nice shower of parmesan.

Add half-spoonfuls of whole milk ricotta. (I used to work at Bertucci’s, and am greatly enam­ored of baked blobs of ricotta.) Spray the whole mess with some more olive oil cook­ing spray, and put it in the oven.

After twenty (20) min­utes, your tart should look browned at the edges, and the ricotta should have spread a bit. The crust will be firm and quite crisp and crack­ery at the edges. It should taste sweet and nutty. If it’s at all pasty tex­tured, it’s too thick and needs more baking.


Slide the tart off your Sil­pat or tin­foil onto the counter, slice, and enjoy. Goes well with a ries­ling, guer­w­ertz­trau­miner, or un-oaked chardonnay.

I was really happy with this, since I just fudged the crust recipe, using the liq­uid and fat quan­ti­ties called for in Deb’s recipe, and then just adding the chick­pea flour until it seemed like the right tex­ture. I did make it too dry, and there­fore added in a lit­tle more yogurt (Deb’s recipe calls for sour cream, which I didn’t have) to moisten it back up again. Next time, I might serve lemon wedges to squeeze on the tart at the table, and if I had fresh herbs, I would def­i­nitely have used them on the final bak­ing. I also would have grated some fresh nut­meg and mixed it with the ricotta. It might also be good with lemon zest in the ricotta.

This tart dough is going to be a repeat for me for savory tarts all win­ter. Some­times you feel like a pizza riff, and this does the trick, while being sub­stan­tial enough to hold up to some heav­ier toppings.