Such a Flake...

As much as I haven't been inspired by cake baking lately, I haven't been able to get cookies off my mind lately -- specifically the cookies from Momofuku Milk Bar. I keep justifying my preoccupation to myself with the thought that I need to work through the book so that we can return it to the library, or in case somebody puts a hold on it and we have to return it, but in reality, I think the book has just awakened my dormant obsession with cookies.

For example, all I wanted to do last week was bake Tosi's Cornflake-Chocolate-Chip-Marshmallow Cookies, but I was just too busy. I needed at least two consecutive evenings at home to make them - one to make the cornflake crunch and the cookie dough, and another to refrigerate the dough overnight and bake them the next day. Between a doctor's appointment on Monday night, going to the theater on Wednesday, and being at the office until 9:15 on Friday for an all-day meeting and dinner, there was just no time to dedicate to baking until the weekend, and I finally got the chance to make my cookie dreams a reality.

I was intrigued by this recipe, not only because of the drool-worthy photo in the book of a pair of hands tearing apart a gooey, melty cookie, but because I've not encountered a cookie recipe before that calls for adding marshmallows directly into the dough. According to what I've read, adding marshmallows too early results in them melting into the dough and disappearing, so most cookies that feature them call for pressing marshmallows into the surface of the cookies midway through the baking process. When I have baked with marshmallows myself, that is the technique I have followed as well, so I was curious to see whether Tosi's novel idea would pan out.

I must confess, however, I was a little intimidated by these cookies at the same time, not because they seemed especially difficult, but because the reviews I'd read of the recipe on other blogs were full of stories of disaster. The cookies spread too much, or they burned, or they cooked unevenly. My last two batches of Milk Bar cookies turned out perfectly, and I was sure to follow all the directions carefully, so I decided to roll the dice and see if my baking prowess could lead me to success where so many others had failed.

When I set out to start preparing the dough, I was faced with another one of Tosi's nested recipes, but the cornflake crunch was less labor intensive and dangerous than the peanut "brittle" had been, and even better, since I wasn't dealing with molten sugar, I was able to scale down the recipe to make only as much cornflake crunch as I needed so I wouldn't have to figure out what to do with leftovers. I was able to prepare and cool the cornflake crunch in the time it took my Plugra to soften to room temperature, so it hardly even seemed like that much of an extra effort.

The dough came together without incident, though I did vary slightly from Tosi's instructions by using regular chocolate chips instead of the mini-version she prefers for better distribution throughout the cookie, mainly because I'd already had to buy cornflakes, marshmallows, and powdered milk and I didn't want to have to invest in mini-chips too. I did, however, decide to add more chips than the recipe called for, since I had the remnants of an open bag hanging out on my cabinet and I wanted to finish it off. After finishing the dough and portioning it out to chill overnight, it would be 24 hours before I would discover if my change to the recipe would prove to be my downfall.

Today, when I pulled the cookies out of the oven, I could see that they were somewhat less attractive than the other Milk Bar cookies I've baked so far, but they were far from a disaster. The marshmallows had indeed melted, as I'd predicted, and the ones that were close to the sides of the cookies created pools of molten candy around the edges that caramelized and turned brown, which made the cookies look less uniformly round and perfect than usual. However, I didn't really mind the melted marshmallow puddles because their caramel flavor proved to be a welcome addition to the cookies.

I was also surprised that, despite sitting in the moist cookie dough overnight, the cornflakes retained their crispiness without getting soggy, and added an extra crunch factor to the cookies that contrasted with the chewiness of the melted candy. The extra chocolate chips didn't keep the cookies from sticking together, as I had feared, but I did notice that the cookie dough itself, while exceptionally buttery, was more crumbly and less chewy than the other two Milk Bar cookies I've experimented with. Though I generally prefer chewy cookies, I didn't really see the crumbly texture as a problem here.

So far, I would rank these cookies between the corn cookies and the peanut butter cookies in my emerging hierarchy of Milk Bar cookies. I still have three more that I want to bake from the book before I return it to the library, so we'll just have to wait and see where it falls in the final rankings...

Cake Walk...

Ordinarily, the arrival of my birthday would be a source of much anticipation and planning when it comes to cake selection. There aren't a lot of occasions during the year that justify the baking of an elaborate, multi-layered cake with frosting and festive decorations, so I try to seize them when they come along. This year, however, I just couldn't seem to muster much enthusiasm for the cause. I looked at my dessert board on Pinterest over and over trying to will inspiration to strike, but nothing captured my imagination.

Honestly, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted my standard, go-to chocolate cake, the one I've made maybe a dozen times before, often for my birthday. I've made it as a Bundt cake, like the recipe calls for, with and without the accompanying chocolate ganache, in a variety of decorative pans, and I've made it as a layer cake and blogged about it in the past. There really wasn't anything new that I could bring to this cake, nor did I wish to -- I just wanted the comfort of revisiting an old favorite.

So I apologize that I don't have something more interesting to share with you for this occasion, but the heart knows what it wants, and it's my birthday and I'll bake what I want to. Besides, in all my baking experience, I've still yet to come across another chocolate cake recipe that is this good. As a Bundt cake, it really couldn't be simpler, so this time around, I'm going to give you the instructions for that variation as well. If you want the best, uncomplicated chocolate cake for your baking repertoire, this is it my friends. Happy birthday to me!

Double Chocolate Bundt Cake 

adapted from The Food and Wine Annual Cookbook 2007

For cake:
2 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped
3/4 c. vegetable oil
1 c. sugar
1 egg
2 c. all-purpose flour
1/2 c. Dutch-process cocoa powder
1 tablespoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 c. water
1 c. buttermilk

For chocolate ganache:

3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

1/3 c. heavy cream

1/2 tablespoon corn syrup

1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter

Preheat oven to 350°. Spray a 12-cup Bundt pan with Pam.
1. Chop 2 oz of the chocolate in to small pieces of more or less equal size. In a large glass bowl, melt the chocolate by microwaving it for 10-second increments, stirring between each. Allow chocolate to cool slightly.

2. Stir vegetable oil and sugar into the chocolate until the mixture is smooth. Whisk the egg into the mixture.

3. In a small bowl, whisk together flour, cocoa powder, baking soda and salt. Add 1/2 of the dry ingredients to the chocolate mixture and 1/2 cup of buttermilk and 1/2 cup of water. Whisk until smooth.
4. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the lower third of the oven for about 45 minutes or until a toothpick inserted into the center of the cake comes out with a few moist crumbs. Turn cake out of pan and allow to cool completely.

5. Meanwhile, in a small saucepan, bring the heavy cream to a boil. Melt the other three ounces of chocolate in a small glass bowl (as before), and combine with corn syrup and butter. Pour the boiling cream over the chocolate and and let it stand until melted, about 5 minutes.

6. Whisk ganache mixture until the texture is smooth. Allow the ganache to cool to a point where it is thick but still pourable (usually about 5 minutes).

7. Pour the ganache over the cake and allow it to stand until the glaze is completely cooled, usually about 30 minutes.

You Gotta Roll With It...

Overall, I am really very thankful to be gainfully employed once more. I was incredibly fortunate to be without a job for such a short period of time, and I like my new situation. I am learning all kinds of skills that will serve me well in the long-run, plus I work with great people who are positive and create a healthy work environment. That said, I am going through a bit of a stressful patch. I am juggling multiple projects, nearly all of them are in a highly active phase, and deadlines are flying at me at an alarmingly fast rate.

This weekend, I've been putting in extra hours from home trying to make some headway on a particularly large project with a looming deadline, and as a result, I felt a bit of a need to treat myself for my efforts. Baking has long been a source of stress-relief for me, and chocolate has always been a handy emotional salve for me, so I turned to my Pinterest board in search of a chocolate-focused baking project I could tackle to make myself feel better.

Inspiration came in the form of a chocolate-swirled breakfast roll from Smitten Kitchen, based on the chocolate babka that she had eaten growing up. Though babka is associated with Eastern European Jewish communities, and I was raised in a predominately Jewish suburb, babka was never really a part of my childhood. Still the concept was appealing -- rich, buttery, brioche-style yeast dough, swirled with sweet chocolate and cinnamon streusel. I love cinnamon buns, I love chocolate, and l love chocolate and cinnamon together, so the idea of combining all these elements and getting to call them breakfast was an undeniably attractive prospect.

The recipe turned out to be a bit more labor-intensive than I probably should have tried to attempt during a weekend when I was already so busy, but attending to the dough throughout its various stages also provided a welcome distraction. Though our apartment is generally on the chilly side during the coder months of the year (and a nightmare to air-condition sufficiently in the summer), the yeast did its job without incident.

As instructed, I rolled out the dough as thinly as possible to allow for maximum chocolate dispersion, but I do think that this strategy resulting in blurring the distinct striations between dough and filling that create a characteristic swirled bun. Chocolate was definitely the dominant flavor in the rolls, eclipsing the cinnamon, though I didn't much mind.

Overall, these babka-inspired buns were a decadent breakfast indulgence, and while I don't think they would be appropriate for regular consumption, from both a caloric and effort-expenditure perspective, I did enjoy the process of making them, and even more the chance to eat them when I was done.

Salt of the Earth...

I'd like to say I've moved beyond stress eating in my life, and to an extent, that is true, but only because the nature of the stress in my life has changed. In college, I used to eat an entire bag of Cheetos or Doritos in the span of writing an important essay only hours before it was due. I tried simply not buying those particular vices, but when the going got tough, I would simply eat my roommates' snacks instead, sheepishly offer an apology, and buy them a replacement. Now that I do all the grocery shopping, I can keep those kinds of temptations out of the house all together, but I also don't tend to get myself into the kind of overwhelming situations that prompted that behavior any more.

Still, now that I find myself facing the constant, low-grade stress of being unemployed, I find that certain cravings have returned. Just yesterday, I was sitting at my computer, searching for jobs, when an unrelated thought popped into my head: chocolate cake. I wanted chocolate cake so bad I could practically taste it.

Once the craving was there, it simply wouldn't go away. I tried checking my Pinterest dessert board for chocolate cake inspiration, but there wasn't anything there that wasn't overly elaborate, or large enough to serve a crowd of people. Brownies would have to suffice; not only did I have plenty of brownie recipes just waiting to be made, they could be made in a more reasonable portion.

Though I have long since returned it to the library, I selected a recipe from Baked Explorations that I had seen on a blog and squirreled away ages ago. The original Baked bakery in Brooklyn is famous for its brownies, so much so that they now sell brownie mix at gourmet and specialty shops, though they have also given out the recipe in their cookbooks for those who to prefer to cook from scratch. I had never tried the original, but naturally, I was drawn to a variation included in their second book that called for adding salted caramel to the mix. I have yet to find a dessert that wasn't improved by added salted caramel, so I figured these brownies were bound to be a hit.

Making the salted caramel sauce to pour between the layers of brownie batter definitely increased the time-to-completion on this dessert, but I ultimately didn't mind the extra step because I didn't end up using all the caramel sauce for the brownies. (The recipe is written that way, because it is difficult to make smaller amounts of caramel without burning it.) As a result, I now have extra salted caramel sauce hanging out in my fridge that I can use as a topping for ice cream or something, so it's kind of like making two desserts in one. In fact, if I were feeling extra-decadent, I could make a brownie sundae with one of the salted caramel brownies, vanilla ice cream, and leftover caramel sauce. How indulgent does that sound?

I'm not sure that the brownies themselves would be the best ever without the caramel sauce. They were plenty chocolatey (as they should have been, given the almost three-quarters of a pound of chocolate they contained), but I think it was the salted caramel sauce that really took them to the next level. Instead of creating a distinct layer between the brownies, it was largely absorbed into the batter, creating an exceptionally fudgey, moist texture. I've always been team fudgey in the battle between fudgey and cakey brownie fans, so this was a major selling point for me. 

Every now and then, eating the brownies, I would come across a pocket where the caramel hadn't been fully absorbed, and therefore was the most prominent flavor in that bite. These were the best parts, in my caramel-loving opinion. In fact, the key to these brownies is the salty/sweet contrast. Mine were perhaps a bit too far toward the sweet side of the spectrum, because I skimped a little bit when sprinkling them with fleur de sel at the end. I second-guessed the recipe and thought it sounded like too much, so I used a lighter hand when applying it, and I shouldn't have.

Irregardless, these brownies were excellent. They definitely satisfied my chocolate baked goods craving, with the added bonus of leaving me with a second dessert waiting in the wings. To date, I've never found a brownie recipe that I wanted to make more than once, but these will definitely be in contention the next time I have a brownie craving...

Sweet and Salty Brownies

adapted from Baked Explorations

Caramel

1 c. sugar

2 tablespoons light corn syrup

1/4 c. water

1/2 c. heavy cream

1 teaspoon fleur de sel

1/4 c. sour cream

Brownies

1 1/4 c. all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon salt

2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder

11 oz. bittersweet (or semisweet) chocolate, coarsely chopped

1 c. unsalted butter, cut into smaller pieces

1 1/2 c. granulated sugar

1/2 c. packed light brown sugar

5 large eggs, at room temperature

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 1/2 teaspoons fleur de sel

1 teaspoon coarse sugar

To make the caramel: Add the sugar, corn syrup and water to a medium saucepan and stir gently to combine. Set the pan over medium-high heat and cook until the mixture registers 350 on a candy thermometer (if you don't have a thermometer cook until the mixture is amber in color). Turn off the heat under the pan and slowly add the cream (the caramel will bubble up quite a bit so be mindful) then the fleur de sel. Stir in the sour cream until the mixture is smooth. Let cool while you work on the brownies.

To make the brownies: Preheat oven to 350. Spray a 9x13-inch pan with nonstick cooking spray, then line the pan with parchment, leaving an overhang on opposite sides so you can lift the brownies out afterward.

Whisk the flour, salt and cocoa powder together in a medium bowl. Add the chocolate and butter to a heatproof bowl and set over a pan of simmering water. Heat, stirring occasionally, until both are melted and the mixture is smooth. Remove the pan and bowl from the heat, but leave the bowl sitting on top of the pan. Add both sugars to the bowl and whisk until well combined. Remove the bowl from the pan. Crack three eggs into the batter, whisking to incorporate just until combined. Add the remaining 2 eggs, again whisking only until just combined. Stir in the vanilla. Add the dry ingredients to the bowl and use a rubber spatula to fold them in until just a few streaks of flour remain.

Pour half of the brownie batter into the prepared pan and spread in an even layer. Add 3/4 cup of the caramel (don't use it all) on top of the brownie batter and spread evenly - try to keep it away from the sides of the pan or it might burn as it cooks. Drop heaping spoonfuls of the brownie batter over the caramel and spread as best you can to cover the caramel. It won't be perfect, don't worry too much about it.

Bake for 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs attached. Transfer the pan to a wire rack and sprinkle the tops with the fleur de sel and coarse sugar. Let the brownies cool completely before lifting them out and cutting them into squares.

Store the brownies tightly wrapped at room temperature. They also freeze well.

Bar None...

Every culture handles death differently, but one thing seems to be universal -- when someone passes on, people seek solace in food. Whenever someone has passed away in my family, we have been surrounded by an outpouring of food from friends and loved ones. Cakes, cookies, and casseroles poured in from every direction. So when I found out that my best friend, Lisa, had lost her grandfather, I did the only thing I could think of under the circumstances -- I baked.

I knew I wanted to stop by the shiva (sort of the Jewish equivalent of a wake, except that it lasts several days) in order to support my friend in her time of loss, and though I had never attended a shiva before, I knew that they were full of food. I felt strange about showing up empty handed, but I wasn't sure what I ought to bring. I had heard about people coordinating deli trays, bagels and lox, and other standard Jewish treats to bring to shivas, but none of those things were quite my style.

Baking seemed like the natural route for me, and cookies seemed like a portable, easy-to-eat option, so I poured through my significant collection of cookie books in search of ideas. Nothing really stood out to me, however. My options were somewhat limited, due to Lisa's food allergies, and I didn't want to make anything too unusual or challenging to the palate. Something comforting seemed more appropriate, so I finally settled upon some pumpkin chocolate chip bar cookies from my Pinterest queue, since few things are as comforting to me as the warm spices of fall.

The bars turned out rather more cake-like than I had anticipated. They reminded me of my favorite pumpkin chocolate chip muffins from my other best friend, Katherine, but baked flat and cut into squares. Though they were slightly more dense, and possessed of a higher chocolate-to-dough ratio, they were a perfect match in terms of flavor. These were a better option for sharing than the muffins, which are probably more food than someone would want to eat while socializing, so I think they were the best choice for this occasion.

Though the occasion for making these bars was unfortunate, I'm happy to have this recipe in my arsenal. Katherine's muffins will always be first in my heart, because they remind me of her, but it's  nice to have something similar to whip up if I want to share more easily with others. Of course, I'm not always feeling magnanimous -- sometimes I want to keep my muffins to myself...

Pumpkin Chocolate Chip Bars

adapted from Bake at 350

2 c. all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

3/4 teaspoon ginger

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon allspice

1/8 teaspoon cloves

1 teaspoon baking soda

3/4 teaspoon coarse salt

1 c. unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 1/4 c. sugar

1 egg

2 teaspoons vanilla

1 c. pumpkin puree

12 oz. chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 350 and line a 9"x13" pan with tin foil.

1. Whisk together the flour, spices, baking soda and salt.

2. Cream together the butter and sugar in a stand mixer on medium-high until smooth. Beat in the egg and vanilla. Beat in the pumpkin puree (it will look curdled -- do not worry).

3. Add the dry ingredients and mix on low just until combined. Stir in the chocolate chips.

4. Using an offset spatula (or the back of a spoon), spread the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for about 35-40 minutes or until a toothpick comes out clean. Cool completely in the pan.

My Baby's Got a Secret...

I'll admit it, I have a bit of a mean streak sometimes. My inner monologue skews toward the snarky and bitchy most of the time, but you'd scarcely know it, because most of the time I manage to keep those thoughts to myself.

A couple month ago, the girls at lunch were talking about how much they hate mayonnaise. I mentioned that mayo was a common ingredient in chocolate cake in the 1940s and 1950s, as a byproduct of wartime rationing. They were completely disgusted. McNulty, in particular, said that the very thought of it made her want to throw up in her mouth.

If you think about it, it kind of makes sense. What is mayonnaise after all, besides an emulsification of eggs, oil, and vinegar? Nobody would raise an eyebrow if you told them your cake contained eggs and oil, and vinegar does actually factor into chocolate cake recipes on occasion.

Right away, the seed was planted that I needed to make a mayonnaise cake and trick all my friends into eating it in order to prove them wrong. I knew Cake Day would provide the perfect opportunity, but because I'm only a little bit mean, I decided to wait for McNulty to take her maternity leave. It seemed overly cruel to trick a pregnant woman into eating something that she claimed to find nauseating. So I laid in wait, making a maple cake instead while I bided my time.

I have to say, I was a little concerned when it came time to make the actual cake. The batter smelled overwhelmingly of mayo, conjuring thoughts of chicken salad more than delicious, delicious cake. But I baked it off anyway, hoping for the best. 

Thankfully, the cake emerged from the oven transformed. Not only did it smell like chocolate cake instead of mayonnaise, when I went to taste the trimmings generated from assembling the layers, they were pleasantly chocolately and exceedingly moist, with a tender, if slightly uneven crumb. I even liked the frosting, which is pretty uncommon for me. It was on the stiff side, so it was difficult to spread on the cake, gathering lots of cake crumbs as I went along. Still, given how rare it is for me to actually like a frosting, I would consider trying this again if I ever had an occasion for a chocolate-on-chocolate layer cake.

When I went to serve it to my friends, I stayed quiet. I let the compliments roll in: the cake was moist; so chocolately; it was delicious; another success for Haley. When they were about halfway done eating, I dropped the bomb and told them that they could all tell McNulty that they had eaten mayonnaise cake and lived to tell the tale. 

Suddenly, about half the table lost their appetite. Only one lady finished her cake; the rest ate a couple more bites and picked at it throughout the remainder of the lunch hour with excuses about the cake being too rich to finish. One of my friends who had been singing the praises of the cake only seconds before looked ill, and didn't take another bite. Clearly, prejudice is hard to overcome.

I'm not sure I would make this cake again, not because of the mayonnaise factor, but because I believe there are probably better chocolate cake recipes. If I do have a group of mayo-hating friends that I need to trick in the future, I have now learned the secret of mayonnaise cake -- don't tell anyone what's in it until they are done eating. Otherwise, you're going to end up with a bunch of unjustifiably wasted cake, and nobody wants that. Maybe someday cakes will be judged solely on flavor and not the content of their ingredients, but until then, mayonnaise cake will have to hide its condiment origins...

Chocolate Mayonnaise Cake

adapted from Bon Appétit

Cake

2 oz. bittersweet chocolate (do not exceed 61% cacao), chopped 

2/3 c. unsweetened cocoa powder  

1 3/4 c. boiling water  

2 3/4 c. all purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 c. white sugar

1 c. (packed) dark brown sugar

1 1/3 c. mayonnaise (do not use reduced-fat or fat-free)

2 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

Frosting

10 oz. bittersweet chocolate (do not exceed 61% cacao), chopped

1 1/2 c. (3 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature

3 c. powdered sugar

1 tablespoon vanilla extract

Cake

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour three 8-inch-diameter cake pans with 1 1/2-inch-high sides. Combine chopped chocolate and cocoa powder in medium metal bowl. Add 13/4 cups boiling water and whisk until chocolate is melted and mixture is smooth.

Sift flour, baking soda, and baking powder into another medium bowl. Using electric mixer, beat both sugars and mayonnaise in large bowl until well blended, 2 to 3 minutes. Add eggs 1 at a time, beating until well blended after each addition. Beat in vanilla. Add flour mixture in 4 additions alternately with chocolate mixture in 3 additions, beating until blended after each addition and occasionally scraping down sides of bowl. Divide batter among prepared cake pans (about 2 1/3 cups for each).

Bake cakes until tester inserted into center comes out clean, 30 to 32 minutes. Cool cakes in pans on racks 20 minutes.

Run small knife around sides of cakes to loosen. Carefully invert cakes onto racks and let cool completely.

Frosting and Assembly

Place chopped chocolate in medium metal bowl; set bowl over saucepan of simmering water and stir until chocolate is melted and smooth. Carefully remove bowl from over water; let melted chocolate cool until lukewarm, stirring occasionally.

Using electric mixer, beat butter in large bowl until smooth and creamy. Sift powdered sugar over butter and beat until well blended, about 2 minutes. Beat in vanilla. Add melted chocolate and beat until well blended and smooth, occasionally scraping down sides of bowl.

Place 1 cake layer on platter. Spread 3/4 cup frosting over top of cake layer to edges. Top with second cake layer; spread 3/4 cup frosting over. Top with third cake layer. Spread remaining frosting decoratively over top and sides of cake.

Yo-Yo-Yo...

Generally speaking, I've always been a little suspicious of low-fat desserts. In my experience, there is usually something off about them, whether it be the texture or the flavor itself. I kind of don't see the point; if dessert is supposed to be about indulging a craving, how does some vague approximation of the flavors in question satiate your desires? What is the point of being able to eat a huge serving of a low-fat dessert if it tastes like crap? Quality over quantity, I say.

Nonetheless, while I was flipping through the pages of an old issue of Food & Wine recently, I skimmed my way through an article on low-fat desserts and actually found my attention captured by a recipe for chocolate frozen yogurt. Though my attempts at making homemade frozen yogurt have been universally disastrous in the past, the flavor combination in this recipe were right in my wheelhouse: chocolate, banana, and caramel. Caramelized bananas are easily in my top five favorite desserts, so I figured that any dish that incorporated them had to be worth trying.

The recipe called for caramelizing the bananas in a bit of brown sugar before pureeing them and adding them to a simple, no-cook dairy base of Greek yogurt and milk. Though they smelled heavenly and I wanted to eat them straight out the pan, I saved all of them for the recipe and came to regret it. Though the banana flavor came through loud and clear in the finished product, the caramel was completely overwhelmed by the fruit and chocolate. Basically, it tasted like a straight-up chocolate banana frozen yogurt, but that was by no means a bad thing.

In fact, this was easily the best frozen yogurt to ever emerge from my kitchen. Despite being low-fat, the texture was much less icy and crystallized than my previous efforts. I enjoyed the chocolate chunks, which added a sense of indulgence in addition to providing a nice textural contrast. Though I initially found the characteristic tartness of the Greek yogurt to be off-putting, after repeated spoonfuls I came to appreciate the way it paired with the chocolate, and eventually, it came to be downright addictive.

I would definitely consider making this again, though in the future I would experiment with skipping the caramelization process. It's possible that the bananas need to be cooked, and it's also possible that they need that extra bit of sugar, but given that the caramel makes absolutely no difference in the taste of the finished product, I'd be interested in seeing if it can be left out. Still, I'm going to count this effort as a success, and take some pride in the fact that I was able to produce a low-fat dessert that was actually worth eating. I wouldn't count on this becoming a trend around here, but a change of pace is always a good thing...

Chocolate Frozen Yogurt with Caramelized Bananas

adapted from Food & Wine

2 tablespoons unsalted butter

2 large, ripe bananas cut into 1-inch rounds

2 tablespoons light brown sugar

1 tablespoon creme de cacao

1/2 c. plus 3 tablespoons 2% milk

2 1/2 tablespoons Dutch-process cocoa powder

2/3 c. granulated sugar

pinch of salt

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 1/4 c. Greek yogurt (2% or nonfat)

1 oz. bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped

1. In a nonstick skillet, melt the butter. Add the bananas in a single layer and sprinkle with the brown sugar. Cook over moderate heat, turning once, until caramelized, about 8 minutes. Off the heat, add the creme de cacao and swirl the pan to dissolve the sugar. Scrape the bananas into a food processor and add 3 tablespoons of the milk. Puree until smooth. Transfer the puree to a small bowl and freeze until chilled, 15 minutes.

2.  In another bowl, whisk the cocoa with the granulated sugar, salt, vanilla and the remaining 1/2 cup of milk. Whisk in the yogurt until smooth, then the banana puree.

3. Transfer the mixture to an ice cream maker and freeze according to the manufacturer’s instructions until nearly frozen. Mix in the chopped chocolate. Scrape the frozen yogurt into an airtight container, cover and freeze until firm, at least 2 hours.  

Feliz Cinco De Mayo...

I can't say I've ever really understood the appeal of Cinco de Mayo, other than as an excuse to get drunk on cheap margaritas and practice the one line that most Americans seem to know in Spanish, "Más cerveza, por favor!" Since I'm not much of a drinker, I've traditionally reserved the same enthusiasm for this holiday as I do St. Patrick's Day, though at least in Chicago, you get to see the river turn green for that. Even in Mexico, where the holiday originated, Cinco de Mayo isn't considered a major holiday; instead, Mexicans reserve their enthusiasm for La Día de la Independencia, on September 16th, and think Americans are a little crazy for the amount of revelry they practice to commemorate an obscure Mexican military victory over the French on May 5th, 1862.

Nonetheless, I found myself looking to Cinco de Mayo for inspiration for tonight's dinner, because I wanted to make something a little special. You see, tonight marked the first time that Justin's family has visited our new home. I wanted to impress Justin's parents with my cooking prowess, though I did make that incredibly elaborate lemon cake for his birthday last year, and I made them dinner at their own home once, several months ago. Tonight would be my first opportunity to cook for them on my own turf, and I wanted to make sure they got the message that I would be appropriate daughter-in-law material someday. 

I'd picked Justin's brain for recipe suggestions numerous times, but it turns out that he likes so many of the things I've made that he has trouble isolating which are his favorites. When he recommended the chicken tacos I made not long after we moved in together, it dawned on me that his parents were coming over on May 5th, so I constructed a Mexican-inspired menu based on the fact that it was Cinco de Mayo. In addition to the tacos, I knew I needed some sort of vegetable, and my friends at work suggested guacamole. Though I don't eat it myself (I can't stand avocados or cilantro), I found a recipe from one of my favorite writers on Serious Eats, and added it to my lineup. Though it's Spanish, I knew I had a killer sangria recipe in my files, so I decided to prepare that for our guests as well.

The only thing I was stuck on was dessert. I simply couldn't think of a Mexican-inspired dessert that would be both a worthy demonstration of my baking skills and something I actually wanted to eat myself, since I was already making one dish I knew I wouldn't eat. Mom suggested flan, but custard-y desserts have never been my thing. I considered making biscochitos again, but I knew I wanted something more elaborate than cookies, and I ruled out another batch of Mexican chocolate ice cream, because Justin wasn't a huge fan. I was at an impasse.

Then, suddenly, a memory surfaced in my mind: I thought back to my first job, where my boss borrowed office space for me from a company with a very small staff. The executive assistant there was a serious foodie, at a time when I was just starting to expand upon the handful of recipes that got me through college, and the two of us talked food on a regular basis. One day, knowing that I loved cinnamon, she brought me a tiny wedge of a decadent Mexican chocolate tart she had made. I fell in love immediately, and she brought me the recipe, which I promptly filed away and forgot. 

For years, I didn't really have the means to make this recipe. It calls for Ibarra, a brand of cinnamon-infused, coarsely-textured Mexican chocolate that is typically available only at Mexican grocery stores. Plus, I didn't have a tart pan. Within the last six months, I've remedied both problems, by moving to a neighborhood with a thriving Mexican business community that includes a supermercado less than two blocks from my apartment, and by using the Crate and Barrel gift card that Justin got at his corporate Christmas party to purchase a tart pan. Remembering this recipe proved to be a stroke of genius.

It had the added advantage of being relatively simple to prepare. Even though it involved making several components, none of the steps were difficult, and I was able to complete the entire dessert the evening before and have it chilling in the fridge when Justin's family arrived. Nothing is better for entertaining than something you can make in advance.

Overall, the meal was very well-received, and Justin's parents were impressed with our home. The dessert, however, was the star of the evening. Justin's mom proclaimed it to be on par with Sacher torte, the specialty of Justin's grandma, and the special occasion cake of choice in their family. Everyone ate two pieces, even though the tart was incredibly rich. Justin's sister requested the recipe. Not to sound immodest, but I completely knocked it out of the park with this dessert. 

I had to purchase a rather large package of Ibarra in order to make this recipe, so I'm sure I'll be making it again someday, possibly for my own family, who I feel need to experience this deliciousness for themselves. I've long since lost touch with the colleague who introduced me to this recipe, but thank you Patty, wherever you are!

Mexican Chocolate Tart with Cinnamon-Spiced Pecans

adapted from Bon Appétit

Pecans

1 large egg white

2 tablespoons white sugar

1 tablespoon brown sugar

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1 1/2 c. pecan halves

Crust

4.5 oz. Nabisco Famous Chocolate Wafers, finely ground in a food processor

1/4 c. white sugar

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon salt

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Filling

1 c. whipping cream

4 oz. semi-sweet or bittersweet chocolate, chopped

1 3.1 oz. disk Ibarra chocolate, chopped

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened, and cut into 4 pieces

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 teaspoon cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon salt

For nuts:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Spray rimmed baking sheet with nonstick spray. Whisk all ingredients except pecans in medium bowl. Stir in pecans. Spread in single layer on sheet, rounded side up. Bake until just browned and dry, about 30 minutes. Cool on sheet. Separate nuts, removing excess coating.

For crust:

Preheat oven to 350°F. Blend first four ingredients in processor. Add melted butter; process until crumbs are moistened. Press crumbs into 9-inch-diameter tart pan with removable bottom, to within 1/8-inch of top. Bake until set, about 20 minutes. Cool on rack.

For filling:

Bring cream to simmer in medium saucepan. Remove from heat. Add chocolates; whisk until melted. Add butter, 1 piece at a time; whisk until smooth. Whisk in vanilla, cinnamon, and salt. Pour filling into crust. Chill until filling begins to set, about 15 to 20 minutes. Arrange nuts in concentric circles atop tart. Chill until set, about 4 hours.

Thin Is In...

I'm a little late in jumping on the bandwagon this year, but I didn't want the Girl Scout cookie season to pass by without acknowledging it in some way. Bloggers all over the internet have been coming up with creative ways to turn the famous cookies into other desserts, or to make cakes and cupcakes that call to mind the flavors of the various annual treats, as if the thrill of eating them straight out of the box is somehow insufficient, and I figured I would jump on the bandwagon as well.

As I've recently discussed, I crave salty snacks more than desserts, but even I can be counted on to pick up a box or two of Girl Scout cookies when my cousins come calling every year, selling them on behalf of their daughters. Since sweet treats tend to linger around my house until they go stale (well, at least they did before I moved in with Justin), I acquired the habit of keeping my Thin Mints in the freezer to extend their longevity while I waited for my transient cravings to emerge and motivate me to eat them. Besides, everyone knows that Thin Mints are at their best when they're cold and almost refreshing.

Since my Thin Mints were already taking up freezer space, I thought I would transform them into another frozen treat that would take advantage of them at their chilly best by turning them into a batch of ice cream. I'd seen the recipe on Serious Eats, my favorite food blog, and I couldn't get it out of my mind, so I finally relented and gave it a try.

Unfortunately, the product that resulted didn't quite live up to my imagination: the ice cream, which lacked any alcohol or other additives that help keep ice cream from freezing too hard, was like an impenetrable brick. I was concerned that this might happen from the moment I made the custard base, which set up to a dense, mouse-like consistency when I chilled it prior to churning. Instead of pouring it into the machine, I literally had to spoon chunks of it into the canister. It was not an auspicious beginning. 

The ice cream itself tasted fine, though it could have used a bit more mint flavor. Surprisingly, the bits of chopped Thin Mints that were swirled through the mixture at the last minute retained their pleasant crispness. I just didn't enough the chewy, stiff texture of the ice cream overall. At the end of the day, I would have rather satisfied my Girl Scout cookie craving by eating half a sleeve of unadorned Thin Mints, though I was glad to have tried this recipe's intriguing technique of infusing cookie crumbles in the cream for flavor. Hopefully, I'll be able to marry that technique with a different base to create some interesting flavor combinations in the future...

Chocolate Thin Mint Ice Cream

adapted from Serious Eats

6 egg yolks

1/2 c. sugar

3 tablespoons cocoa powder

3 c. half-and-half

28 Thin Mints (one box), divided

5 oz. dark chocolate, finely chopped

1/2 teaspoon salt

1. In a medium saucepan off heat, whisk together egg yolks and sugar until light in color and slightly thickened, 3 to 5 minutes. Whisk in cocoa powder until no lumps remain. Slowly add half and half, whisking constantly. Finely chop 10 Thin Mints (crumbs should be no larger than a pea) and stir into dairy.

2. Put saucepan on medium-low heat and cook, whisking frequently, until custard reaches 180°F on an instant read thermometer (custard should coat the back of a spoon but a swiped finger should leave a clean line). Remove custard from heat and stir in chocolate, then salt to taste.

3. When chocolate is fully melted and incorporated, transfer to an airtight container and chill overnight in refrigerator.

4. The next day, churn in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions. Roughly chop remaining Thin Mints; chunks should range from pea to nickle-sized. In the last minute of churn, add chopped Thin Mints. Return ice cream to container and chill in freezer for at least two hours before serving.

Easy as π...

I have finally done it! After years of good intentions, I have finally produced a pie in honor of Pi Day! In the past, my lack of experience held me back from commemorating this psuedo-holiday, as I wasn't comfortable with the idea of tackling such a seemingly-complicated confection.When I finally conquered my fear of pie-baking last year, I found myself under the weather on Pi Day, and unable to participate. This year, however, I wasn't going to let anything stand in my way; I was absolutely determined to honor the arrival of Pi Day.

I started looking through my collection of saved pie recipes a few weeks ago to make a selection. Several of the options I'd pinned to my Pinterest inspiration board called for fruits that were out of season, so those were out. I wasn't in the mood for apple pie, and I kicked around the idea of a pie whose primary filling was salted caramel, thereby eliminating the middle man from the salted caramel apple pie and the banana caramel cream pies I made last year. Ultimately, however, I decided to go with a pie that was inspired by different salty-sweet dessert pairing that is close to my heart -- the chocolate-covered pretzel.

As I mentioned recently, I'm generally more of a salty snack kind of gal, so chocolate-covered pretzels have long been a favorite of mine. They touch on all three of my major food cravings -- salt, chocolate, and carbohydrates; truly, they are a perfect food. That's why I knew I had to make this pie the moment I saw it on a blog.

The chocolate filling for the pie is pretty standard; it's basically a regular chocolate pudding, and I felt comfortable making it after tackling pastry cream for the first time last year while making the banana caramel cream pie. The crust is what makes this pie unusual: instead of the standard graham cracker crust, the base for the pie is formed from pretzels ground with melted butter and brown sugar in a food processor and packed into the bottom of a pie plate. I'd never made a graham cracker crust before, so I can't say whether forming the pretzel crust was more or less difficult, but it was certainly less work overall than a regular pie crust.

In true chocolate-covered pretzel style, the crust received a thin layer of dark chocolate ganache before taking the creamy chocolate filling. Once the pie had firmed up, the ganache layer became texturally indistinguishable from the rest of the filling, but I appreciated the extra hit of chocolate flavor that it lent. The whole thing was topped with a luscious cloud of homemade whipped cream and a shower of shaved chocolate, making it perhaps the most attractive pie I've made to date.

My only problem with this recipe was that I wanted the crust to taste more overwhelmingly like pretzels. I'm not sure if the brown sugar mellowed the salty punch of the pretzels, or if I should have just used a pretzel with a higher salt content (in my family we like our pretzels really salty, and in fact, favor the brand Salty Stix, which should tell you everything you need to know about our preferences on that front), instead of the Rold Golds that were on sale at the store that week. As it was, the pretzels gave a nice toasted note to the crust and maintained their crunchiness surprisingly well, given the wet filling.

I'd definitely give this pie another shot, with a few tweaks to the crust, even if it were nowhere near March 14th. Good chocolate pies are hard to find, and this one fits the bill. Happy Pi Day!

Chocolate-Covered Pretzel Pie

adapted from Tidy Mom

3 c. broken pretzel sticks
3/4 c. light brown sugar, divided and lightly packed
1/2 c. unsalted butter, melted
1/4 c. cornstarch
3 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa
Pinch of salt
2 1/2 c. whole milk

4 egg yolks
3 oz. bittersweet chocolate, chopped
4 oz. semi sweet chocolate, chopped
1-1/4 c. + 2 tablespoons heavy whipping cream, divided
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 tablespoons confectioners sugar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. 

1. In a food processor combine pretzels, 1/4 cup brown sugar, and butter; blend until mixture resembles fine crumbs. Press mixture firmly into bottom and up sides of a 9-inch pie pan. Bake crust until fragrant and just turning golden, 10 to 15 minutes; cool.
2. In a medium saucepan whisk together 1/2 cup lightly packed brown sugar, cornstarch, cocoa, salt, and milk. Place over medium heat and stir until sugar is just dissolved, about 2 minutes. Whisk in egg yolks. Cook, stirring constantly, until custard thickens and just boils, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and stir in bittersweet chocolate and vanilla. Place pan in a bowl of ice and water and stir occasionally until custard cools.
3. While custard cools, make a chocolate ganache to cover pie crust. Place chopped semi sweet chocolate in medium bowl. Heat 1/4 cup + 2 tablespoons of heavy whipping cream in microwave about 30-40 seconds (just until boils). Pour warm cream over chocolate and stir until melted. Pour over cooled pie crust, using rubber spatula to help spread chocolate up the sides and over entire bottom of crust. Place in refrigerator or freezer until set.
4. Pour custard into cooled crust with hardened ganache and press plastic wrap directly onto surface. Chill until firm, 4 hours or up to a day.
5. Whip cream and confectioners’ sugar until soft peaks form, spread over pie and garnish with extra pretzels and chocolate shavings.

It's 'Wichcraft...

With a year of planning mostly forgotten in my unbridled zeal to outdo myself when it comes to the Cookie Bonanza, I decided to add one final cookie to my lineup. This one, at least, was rooted in one of my perceived shortcomings regarding last years assortment -- a lack of sandwich cookies. I wanted to do a Nutella-themed sandwich cookie last year, in keeping with the cashew caramel Linzer-style cookies I made back in 2009, but I ran out of time. When I spotted these gianduja-inspired sandwich cookies in one of my cookie anthology magazines last week, I knew they were the recipe I'd been dreaming about since last year, and that their time had come.

To save time, I picked up some blanched, skinned hazelnuts from the same suburban grocery store where I finally found pepitas for the mole biscotti, and I set about my merry way. Not unlike the last time I made Linzer-style cookies, I found the dough rather difficult to work with -- it must be the nature of this kind of treat. Not only did the dough crumble like mad (I only got six to come out with their windows intact), they also proved very susceptible to burning. I baked the first batch for less time than stated in the recipe, and when I returned to check on them, they were practically black. I had to throw them away, and I checked the next batch even earlier, finding that they were not yet done. After another minute in the oven, they too were largely burnt. My oven isn't running hot, as proven by all the other cookies I baked this weekend, so I can only fault the cookie dough for being overly sensitive; I watched the remaining batches like a hawk.

The cookies turned out crisp, but somewhat nondescript in terms of flavor. Instead, the standout item in these cookies was the homemade gianduja filling, a spin on the eponymous Italian hazelnut chocolate confection. It took some effort to make homemade hazelnut butter and combine it with melted dark and milk chocolate, but the filling was really delicious, even more so than Nutella itself. I would eat that filling on bread, or other cookies, or just straight off a knife. It was that good.

As a result, I'd consider making the gianduja filling again, but I'll keep looking for a workable dough recipe. With all the effort they require, Linzer-style sandwich cookies are going to remain a holiday-only cookie in my repertoire, but as soon as I find a better dough, I predict a delicious recipe mash-up in my future...

Gianduja Sandwich Cookies

adapted from Fine Cooking Magazine

1 c. plus 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened

1 c. sugar

5 oz. skinned hazelnuts, toasted and finely chopped

4 large egg yolks, at room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla

13 1/2 oz, unbleached all-purpose flour, mixed with a pinch of salt

1 recipe Gianduja Cookie Filling, recipe follows

1. In the bowl of a stand mixer, beat the butter until fluffy, about two minutes. Add the sugar and beat until well-blended. Add the ground hazelnuts and mix well. Stop occasionally to scrape down the bowl.

2. Add the egg yolks, 1 at a time, mixing thoroughly after each addition. Mix in the vanilla, and add the flour in 2-3 batches, blending well, but not over-mixing. Divide the dough, shaping into two thick disks, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate until firm, at least three hours.

3. Preheat the oven to 375, and line baking sheet with parchment. Roll out the dough on a surface dusted with powdered sugar, about 1/8-inch thick. Cut out 2 inch disks, and cut windows into half of the cookies. Reroll the scraps until all the dough has been used.

4. Bake 10 minutes, rotating halfway through. Allow to cool completely before filling.

Gianduja Cookie Filling

3 oz. bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped

1 oz. milk chocolate, finely chopped

1/4 c. heavy cream

1/2 c. hazelnut butter, recipe follows

Melt all of the chocolate together, either in a double boiler or the microwave. In a small saucepan, heat the cream over medium heat until just below the boiling point. Stir the chocolate into the cream with a spatula until very smooth. Stir in the hazelnut butter until well-blended. Cover tightly with plastic wrap. Let cool to room temperature, then refrigerate until thick but not stiff, about 2 hours.

Hazelnut Butter

4 oz. skinned hazelnuts, toasted

2 tablespoons vegetable oil

Put the nuts in the food processor; add the oil and pulse a few times. Then process, checking the consistency every few seconds, until the texture resembles that of wet sand, 1-2 minutes.

Minty Fresh...

After all the hasty, last-minute additions that I wedged into my Cookie Bonanza line-up at the last minute, I've been dedicating the weekend to the items that have been firmly ensconced on my agenda since the very beginning. Every year, I try to have something peppermint-flavored, particularly something chocolate and peppermint, because the flavor pairing is a Christmas classic. In fact, at last year's cookie exchange, virtually everyone made a chocolate-peppermint flavored dessert in some sort of minty zeitgeist moment.

Ages and ages ago, I spotted these chocolate thumbprint cookies from Baked Explorations, the second book by the duo behind the New York bakery, Baked. I think it was last Christmas, actually. The only reason I didn't make them then was because I already had a thumbprint cookie in my line-up with a lemon poppy seed twist. So I held off making them all year, but never got around to workshopping them in advance of my holiday giveaway, mostly because I kept forgetting to buy the Andes Mints called for in the recipe. It's just as well -- those things are dangerous to have around the house!

I’ve made a few recipes from the first Baked book, which was a Valentine’s Day gift from Justin earlier this year, and once again, the boys from Baked have proven they really know their stuff -- the dough was a delight to work with. So many doughs for thumbprint cookies crack when  you go to make the indentations, but this dough was smooth and pliable. Not a single cracked cookie going into the oven! 

To save time, I made and shaped the dough earlier this week and froze it, pulling it out this weekend just to bake and fill them. They baked up perfectly, even though they had been frozen, and the white chocolate peppermint ganache went together quickly. I was struck by the attractiveness of the finished cookies as well; they may have been the prettiest cookie in my line-up this year. 

Aside from being exceptionally pretty, with their lovely contrast between dark chocolate cookie and creamy white filling, the cookies also tasted fantastic. Although my lemon poppy seed thumbprints were very well-received last year by the lemon aficionados in my life, and I enjoyed the double chocolate thumbprints I also made last year with their unique honey and vanilla bean ganache centers, I think these chocolate peppermint thumbprints may just be the ones I’ll return to in the future. 

Give these a try if you’re looking for a stand-out Christmas cookie this year, whether to wow your friends and family, or just to stand in front of the fridge shoveling them directly from the container into your mouth. These are perfect either way.

Chocolate Mint Thumbprints

adapted from Baked Explorations

For cookies:

2 oz. dark chocolate, chopped

2 oz. Andes mints, chopped

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 c. cocoa powder

3/4 teaspoon salt

1 c. unsalted butter, at room temperature

1/3 c. sugar

2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed

2 egg yolks

1 teaspoon vanilla

1 c. sanding sugar, for rolling

For filling:

3 oz. good-quality white chocolate, chopped

3 tablespoons heavy cream

1/2 teaspoon peppermint extract

1. Melt the dark chocolate and mint chocolate together in a microwave or over a double boiler. Whisk until smooth, then set aside to cool.

2. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, cocoa powder, and salt. Set aside.

3. In the bowl of a standing mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat the butter until creamy. Add the granulated and brown sugars and beat on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg yolks and vanilla and beat again until combined. Scrape the chocolate into the mixer and beat just until incorporated. Scrape down the sides and bottom of the bowl and add the flour mixture all at once. Beat on low speed, scraping the side of the bowl occasionally, until the dough is smooth. Transfer it to a sheet of plastic wrap and pat it into a disk; wrap and refrigerate it until it is chilled and firm, at least 30 minutes.

4. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Pour the coarse sugar into a shallow bowl.

5. With clean hands, form tablespoon-size dough balls, taking care that they have no lumps or cracks. Roll each ball in the coarse sugar and place it on a prepared baking sheet. Use your thumb or a small dowel to make an indentation in the center of the cookie. Bake for 10 minutes, remove the sheet from the oven, and use your thumb or the dowel to make the indentation more visible. Return the sheets to the oven and bake for another 4 to 5 minutes. (These are the type of cookies that can overbake very quickly—pull them out at the first signs of cracking.) Set the baking sheets on a wire rack to cool for 5 minutes. Use a spatula to transfer the cookies to the rack to cool completely before filling them.

6. Place the white chocolate in a glass measuring cup with a pour spout. Put the cream in a microwave-safe bowl or cup and microwave it on high power until it boils, about 30 seconds. Pour the hot cream over the white chocolate and let stand for 30 seconds, then whisk until smooth. Stir in the peppermint extract. Fill the thumbprint cookies with the white chocolate ganache and refrigerate them until set, about 30 minutes.

Feliz Navidad...

As further proof that this time of year makes me a little irrational, I found myself baking cookies I don't even like tonight. Specifically, they were biscotti. I hate biscotti -- they're dry, they're hard, and the only way to make them palatable (or so I hear) is to dunk them in coffee, which I don't even drink. Because I find little redeeming value in them, I've never bothered making them. But when I was flipping through my cookie magazines last week in search of some last-minute inspiration, I was confronted with a recipe that practically begged me to give them a try.

The recipe in question was for biscotti that showcased the flavors of mole, the complex chocolate-based Mexican sauce that features nearly thirty different ingredients. I've long been inherently drawn to anything that claims to capture the cinnamon and chocolate pairing found in Mexican chocolate, so these biscotti catered directly to my weakness. 

Suddenly, the fact that I had never made biscotti before became an argument in their favor; I'd be trying something new, and expanding my culinary horizons. Never one to turn down a baking challenge, I decided to go for it; after all, even if I don't like biscotti, plenty of people do, and somebody would be bound to enjoy them.

The most difficult part of the process proved to be sourcing the raw pepitas, or shelled pumpkin seeds, called for in the recipe. My local grocery store didn't carry them, but I ultimately found them at the European grocery store near my parents' house that features a large Hispanic food product selection. I also spotted them in the bulk bins at Whole Foods earlier this week when I was there in search of candied ginger for some lemon ginger bars.

In terms of effort, biscotti fall somewhere between bar cookies and regular individually-baked cookies, which I appreciated during a week as jam-packed with baking as this. The dough was a little bit sticky, but with damp hands, it was easy to mold into shape. It cut beautifully, and when all was said and done, they came out as the best biscotti I've ever consumed. 

They were light and ethereal, more crisp than hard and crunchy. I would have preferred a slightly more pronounced chocolate flavor, and in the future I might add cinnamon directly to the dough instead of just cinnamon chips, but they were still a unique and interesting combination of flavors. I think they will bring something unique and unconventional to this year's Cookie Bonanza, and they may even convince me to take a more open-minded view of biscotti in the future.

Mole Biscotti

adapted from Cuisine At Home

1 1/2 c. all-purpose flour

1/2 c. unsweetened cocoa powder

1/2 teaspoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon cayenne pepper

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 stick unsalted butter, softened

3/4 c. sugar

3 eggs

1/4 c. cornmeal

1/2 c. cinnamon chips

1/2 c. shelled raw pepitas, divided

Preheat the oven to 350. Line baking sheet with parchment paper.

1. Whisk together flour, cocoa, baking soda, baking powder, cayenne, and salt in a bowl until combined; set aside.

2. Cream together butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about five minutes.

3. Beat in eggs, one at a time on low speed until well-mixed. Mix in cornmeal. Add half of the flour mixture; beat until well blended. Add remaining flour mixture, beating only until flour is incorporated into dough.

4. Stir in cinnamon chips and 1/3 cup pepitas. Dough will be sticky. Transfer dough to prepared baking sheet; shape into a 3x14-inch rectangle, 3/4-inch thick.

5. Grind or mince remaining pepitas; sprinkle on top of biscotti dough. Bake biscotti for 25 minutes; remove from oven and let cool 20 minutes. Reduce oven to 325. Transfer biscotti rectangle on parchment to a cutting board.

6. Diagonally slice biscotti into 16-18 strips 3/4 inch wide. Stand slices upright on the baking sheet 1/2 inch apart; return biscotti to oven. Bake biscotti 25 minutes more, then turn off oven. Leave biscotti in oven 15-20 minutes longer. Remove biscotti from oven; cool completely on the baking sheet.