Alpha Bakers - Almond Coffee Crisps

Happy Chanukah. One little Tomie DePaola board book behind the library reference desk, one hundred confused middle schoolers: "Ms. Katya, I thought it was 'HAN-u-kah', not 'CHA-nu-kah." Many lessons in proper Hebrew pronunciation handed out for free. Although one sullen child informed me that 'no one cares about candles' (let's see how happy she is when her next birthday cake is dark), I have reliable intelligence that frying things and lighting little lights is still more or less popular (although I'm definitely not eating cold leftover latkes while writing this post).

Not to say that there isn't still confusion in some quarters. No, seriously, I love this guy. He's so earnest.

The most recent batch of Rose cookies are actually throwbacks, made on a lazy Sunday afternoon over a month ago, one of the first recipes that I actually made from the book after it came in the mail. Like most Rose cookies, they're a paragon of share-able, slightly surprising, cookie-plate appropriate bits.

Some of the Alpha Bakers had issues with this recipe, but it was uneventful for me, at least in memory. A quick food processor dough with almonds and butter, a brief refrigeration, and a quick bake. Success in this case was largely a matter of not getting in the way of the cookie. And it was a good return on a fairly low investment--the last minute brush with espresso upped the game, and I will definitely be making these again. And if that baby from the last post looked a little excited that cookies were being made, blame this batch. She really, really...really liked them.

Eight Days and One Month: A Squash Miracle



Photo by Matt Korahais.

Some years, we make gingerbread. Some years, we give gifts. We did those thing this year too, but mostly, we celebrated with squash. A large warty squash brought both light and sweetness into our home this holiday season, doing double duty as a Chanukkiah (that's a Chanukkah-specific menorah, you'll understand when you're older) and as the base for Christmas pumpkin bread. I have a friend (hi Stacey) who says that stockpiling large winter squashes makes her feel safe. In addition to the root cellar element, I agree with her that they are comforting in their very presence, beyond their food potential. The firm knobby heft of the best squashes gives me a feeling of warmth, of substance, and that same solid awe that I feel when touching a stone pillar. Also, they're beautiful, and taste good.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

Each night of the Festival of Lights, Matt drilled a new hole into our kurbis friend, and when it was over, I cut off the waxy part and roasted the squash, pureed it, and froze it until Christmas eve.

Photo by Matt Korahais.

 On that night, it met its fate and became pumpkin bread, complete with cranberries, buckwheat flour, and olive oil. Thank you, little squash, for commemorating the return of the light and the birth (give or take) of one of the world's great freedom fighters.


Photo by Matt Korahais.

Pumpkin Bread with Cranberries Adapted from the King Arthur Flour Baker's Companion
Ingredients:
1 cup (5 1/2 ounces) vegetable oil (I used olive)
2 2/3 cups (18 1/2 ounces) sugar
4 large eggs
2 cups (or one 15-ounce can) pumpkin (not pumpkin pie filling)
2/3 cup (5 1/4 ounces) water
3 1/3 cups (13 3/4 ounces) unbleached all-purpose flour (I subbed in about 1/2 cup of buckwheat flour for AP)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon nutmeg (I used considerably more)
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup (4 ounces) chopped walnuts or pecans
Approx. 1 cup frozen cranberries

Method:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
2. Cream together the oil and the sugar. Beat in the eggs, pumpkin and water. Add dry ingredients, stir into egg mixture just until blended. Stir in vanilla, then the nuts and cranberries.
3. Pour the batter into two lightly greased 9 x 5-inch loaf pans. Bake the bread for 1 hour or until a cake tester inserted in the center of one loaf comes out clean.

Family Winter Holiday Macarons

Happy Chanukah!
Or as my friend Stacey would say, Happy Family Winter Holiday!

I love Chanukah, and have already had two latke parties to go to, which is a very good thing. Fried potatoes are excellent. Chanukah is also a great time to remember that one man's religious extremist terrorist is another man's Maccabee. (The way most people tell it, the Maccabees were fighting for their own right to religious expression, which had been outlawed, rather than trying to impose on others, but the point is historically dicey.) Just makes you think.

But when I think, I like to think about light. And miracles. Two years ago on Chanukah, crushed and lonely, I bested my better judgment and called Matt and asked him to tell me again about his theory of the third night. He believes that there is a tipping point for miracles, the moment when the miracle hits the mind, when it starts to dawn on everyone that this is more than just some high quality oil or a really good rainbow. He was surprised to hear from me (maybe) but he told me all he could, and when I asked, promised to round out the religious instruction with a multi-borough Christmas tree tour.

Somewhere in the cold wind and rain and snow of that winter, another miracle happened, and we found ourselves able to find each other again. Christmas and New Year are special times for us--fraught with darkness and fear and light and miracles.

This year, I'm leaving town for both holidays, flying on Christmas day to see my little sister in Uganda, where it's hot and modest. I won't be back until mid-January. Part of the trip anxiety, or just my wish to cram everything in, has been an immodest amount of cooking and baking. (I have to leave Matt well-fed, don't I? Actually, I know he's looking forward to a little unsupervised time to get to know the kitchen.)

I made lasagne and spanikopita, braised ribs and roasted chicken, and produced a large number of cookies. There were world peace cookies and there were NY Times chocolate chip cookies, and then there were these:
These are gingerbread macarons, from Tartelette. Macarons are notoriously temperamental to make, and the proper hard shell with a little fuzzy 'foot' on the bottom can be hit or miss. In fact, the first time I made this recipe, which mixes ginger, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg into the dry ingredients, the taste was great but the shape was a flop. (No disrespect to Tartelette, I have a feeling my conversions were off.)

I re-made the recipe the following morning using the recipe I've had best results with, David Lebovitz's. I just omitted the chocolate powder and didn't replace it, helping the dough to remain a little wetter. These held their perfect shape and I filled them with gingerbread buttercream. I brought them to one of the aforementioned latke parties and one guy fell for both kinds, exclaiming over and over that they were different, but he liked both.

Today, I mixed it up a little, and made plain nutmeg macarons with a filling made of cream, chestnut jam from Chile (thanks Miriam), and the leftover gingerbread buttercream. Here they are:
They look just like little UFOs, don't they?
The filling was great, and as a bonus, they are gluten-free, so I can give them to my aunt.

I love sweet things in my mouth and sweet things in my life. These are the dark days of the year, but I feel very lucky and well lit.