Labor of Love...

Yesterday was a very busy day for me. My parents stayed with me on Saturday evening, and we went out for brunch, after which celebrated our nuclear family Christmas by listening to some festive tunes on my new stereo and opening our gifts so that we wouldn't have to carry them to Grandma's house later this week. I got some great gifts, most of which pertained to cooking and entertaining, and some of which I had acquired early and pressed into service at my cookie exchange and in my cookie baking efforts this season.

One of my gifts was a Martha Stewart cake and cookie decorating kit, full of piping tips and bags, gel food colorings, and other useful utensils. With this new tool in my arsenal, I decided to tackle a new realm of cookie for my annual holiday giveaway, one which I have long avoided as too complicated and daunting -- the iced sugar cookie. Generally speaking, I seldom make cookies that have to be cut out, because I don't like icing, and most of them are too bland to eat without it. Plus, they are a ton of work, and I didn't have the proper tools to do a nice job decorating, and anything that's worth doing is worth doing right. With the proper tools in hand, I decided it was time to expand my repertoire.

First, you have to pipe all of your borders with a slightly thicker version of the icing and allow it to dry. I had troubles with my piping, as it was my first time, and I was wary of making the icing too runny, so I erred on the side of too thick and I made my hand sore from having to squeeze the piping bag so hard.

After the piping has dried, you fill in the large areas with a thinner consistency icing. This is called "flooding." Again, I did not thin my icing sufficiently, so my icing was not very smooth. However, one benefit of the thicker frosting was that it had less moisture to evaporate, so my cookies were dry enough in an hour to pipe the final decorations. Ordinarily, the cookies need six hours or so to dry first. Also, you will note that there is one fewer snowflake now, because I ran out of icing. Oops...

The final product. Overall, they aren't quite as perfect as I had envisioned them in my mind, but I'm trying to cut myself some slack since it was my first time decorating cookies with royal icing. The snowflakes and the stockings turned out to be my favorites.

Although the snowflakes have perhaps the least-attractive base coat of icing, I really liked my piping job, and the sugar pearls that I decorated them with. I used tweezers to place the pearls, which was tedious, but well worth it.

The snowmen ended up being my least-favorite. I'm not crazy about their little smiley faces, which I think makes them look like they were decorated by a little kid, and I had a lot of trouble with the black flood icing I made for the hats. I got it too runny (in contrast to the rest of my icing), and most of it leaked out under the piped edges. I also experimented with putting the sanding sugar directly on the wet frosting, which took forever to dry.

The stockings ended up being the most fun to decorate, since I could let my imagination run wild and experiment with different patterns and piping techniques. Basically, each one represents a test sample for future piping endeavors. For these, I used a technique for adhering sanding sugar that I had read about on a cookie decorating blog: instead of pouring sugar on the wet icing, I allowed the cookies to dry and painted on a mixture of meringue powder mixed with water and poured the sugar on that instead. I found that it worked much better and took less time to dry.

Labor has been much on my mind this past week, since my cousin Aimee gave birth to her first daughter, Mya, last Wednesday. After working on these cookies for nearly twelve hours, I could only hope that cookie decorating would be somewhat akin to childbirth -- that eventually the memory of the suffering would fade away and I would find the motivation to do it again some day. These cookies were a lot of work. Granted, now that I have some experience under my belt, my future attempts might go more quickly, and turn out more attractively. Still, I don't think these were so bad for a first try. I've certainly seen worse on the blogosphere this season. Practice makes perfect they say.

I'm The Gingerbread (Wo)Man...

One of my favorite things about the holiday season is the smell -- that heady mix of cinnamon and cloves that becomes available in potpourri, candles, lotions, and other potions for a few precious months every year. When I was a little girl, Mom would bring out the seasonal potpourri and air freshener and it was always an early sign that Christmas was at hand. I usually stock up on these products during the holidays and use them during the rest of the year, seasonally appropriate or not. Who says it can't smell like cinnamon in my house in July?

My love for the wafting aroma of spices in the air is chiefly responsible for why I am so in love with the idea of gingerbread. With scent so closely linked to our sense of taste, why shouldn't I love a cookie that embodies my most cherished aroma? Unfortunately, I find that my disdain for the flavor of molasses impedes any ability I might have to enjoy gingerbread. I keep trying to force myself to like it, but so far, it's just not happening. Still, even though I don't particularly care for it, gingerbread is somewhat de rigueur when it comes to Christmastime, so I decided to include some in my annual Cookie Bonanza nevertheless.

This particular recipe has been in my repetoire since a holiday party I attended last year, for which I wanted to bring a dessert, but the host had an allergy to eggs. Since most egg-free cookie recipes fall into the sandy and crumby category (as in shortbreads), I thought these chewy gingerbread cookies, enhanced with a hint of cocoa and rich chocolate chunks, might provide a nice departure from what my friend was used to eating. The cookies were such a big hit at the party that I included them in last year's Cookie Bonanza, and when I passed them over in favor of other selections for my cookie exchange last weekend I found myself faced with disappointed guests. This year, I added even more spices than called for in the original recipe (since I had them on hand), which helped mask more of the molasses flavor, such that I was able to enjoy them more than my previous attempts. I must bake what my public commands, but that doesn't mean I can't try to enjoy the fruits of my own labor.


Chewy Chocolate Gingerbread Cookies

adapted from Martha Stewart*

7 oz bittersweet chocolate, chopped into 1/4 inch pieces

1 1/2 c. plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

1 1/4 teaspoons ground ginger

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

1/8 teaspoon ground allspice

1/8 teaspoon ground mace

1/8 teaspoon ground cardamon

1 tablespoon Dutch-processed cocoa powder

1/2 c. unsalted butter, at room temperature

1 tablespoon finely grated fresh ginger

1/2 c. brown sugar, packed

1/2 c. unsulphured molasses 1 teaspoon baking soda

1 1/2 teaspoons boiling water

1/4 c. granulated sugar

1. In a medium bowl, sift together flour, spices, and cocoa powder. Set aside.

2. In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat together butter and fresh ginger until lightened in color, about 4 minutes. Add brown sugar; beat until combined. Add molasses; beat until combined.

3. In a small bowl, dissolve baking soda in boiling water. Beat half of the flour mixture into the butter mixture. Beat in the baking soda mixture, followed by remaining flour mixture until just combined. Stir in chocolate chunks by hand. Turn mixture out onto a piece of plastic wrap, pat dough out into a 1 inch thick round and seal. Refridgerate at least 3 hours or overnight.

4. Preheat oven to 325. Roll dough out into 1 1/2 inch balls (dough will be sticky so work quickly), and place 2 inches apart on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Refridgerate 20 minutes. Roll dough balls in granulated sugar and return to baking sheets. Bake 10-12 minutes until surfaces are slightly cracked. Cool on wire racks.

*Yes, this is yet another recipe from Martha Stewart's Cookies: The Very Best Treats To Bake And Share. That's the fourth one so far this season, for those of you who are keeping track. Before this month, this was the only recipe that I'd tried from this book after owning it more than a year. I'm not sure why I'm so drawn to it now, but I suspect it has something to do with the fabulous pictures. I am truly envious of the food styling skills of the Martha Stewart staff...

Tis The Season...

The holidays are all about the joy of giving. We give presents so that we can see the joy on people's faces when they open them, and to show them how much we care for them. I prefer to show my love through baking, which sometimes means that I bake things not because I enjoy eating them, but because it will make somebody else happy to eat them. Such was the case with the first thing I remember learning how to bake -- lemon bundt cake. My Aunt Lois was staying with me while my mother was out of town (with Dad working long hours as always, someone needed to be there when I got home from school), and we decided to bake something for Dad that he would like. Dad had had Lois' lemon cake before and liked it, so that's what we made that day, and for several years, it was the only thing I knew how to bake, which is ironic, because I don't even like lemon. I've lost track of how many times I've made that cake -- lemon is always a crowd pleaser -- and while I always enjoy the process of baking it, never once have I enjoyed eating it. It is something that I only do for the benefit of others.

Similarly, when I was curating the list of cookies to include in my annual Cookie Bonanza, I was trying to achieve a balance of flavors. I already had chocolate and peppermint, in the form of my Chocolate Peppermint Cookies; maple in the form of my Maple Pecan Shortbreads; I knew I was going to make some decorated sugar cookies utilizing my new decorating set, and some spritz cookies using my new cookie press; I wanted a spice cookie, and that left me an opening for one more. I wanted to make thumbprint cookies with a chocolate filling (I don't care for fruit in my cookies), but I already had a chocolate cookie in the mix. Going through my spice shelf for inspiration, I came across a bottle of crystallized ginger that was nearing its expiration date, so I started looking for a recipe to use it up. Lo and behold, I found one for a lemon ginger cookie. I don't care for lemon, but I knew that the people receiving my cookies would probably appreciate a lemon offering, so I made up a batch.

The unusual dough contained no leaveners, resulting in a sandy, crumbly cookie, accentuated by the crackly coating created by the pre-baking dip in egg white and sugar. The cookies were refreshing, and not exceptionally ginger-y, besides some residual heat on the palate after consumption. I'm sure the ginger flavor would have been more pronounced if I had used a fresher bottle of crystallized ginger. Since I knew I was doomed to dislike the cookies due to their flavor combination, I brought a few to work to test out on Natasha, a self-professed ginger enthusiast. They won her stamp of approval, so if you like lemon, feel free to treat yourself to a batch of these. If you don't like lemon, consider making them for someone in your life who does. They'll appreciate every tasty morsel.

Ginger & Lemon Cookies

adapted from The Best of Fine Living: Cookies, 2008

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

3/4 c. plus 2 T. granulated sugar

3 T. finely grated fresh ginger

finely grated zest of one lemon

1/4 tsp. salt

2 large egg yolks

1/2 tsp. pure vanilla extract

1/4 tsp. pure lemon extract

11 1/4 oz. all-purpose flour

2 T. finely chopped crystallized ginger

1 egg white, lightly beaten

1. Preheat oven to 350.

2. In bowl of a stand mixer, combine the butter, 3/4 cup of sugar, grated ginger, lemon zest, and salt, and beat on medium speed until well-blended and light, 2 to 3 minutes. Add the egg yolks and vanilla; continue mixing until well-blended, 30 to 60 seconds. Add the flour and mix on low speed until the dough is blended and just comes together.

3. In a small bowl, combine crystallized ginger and 2 tablespoons of sugar. Shape dough into 1-inch balls and roll in eggs whites. Dip the tops of the dough balls in the sugar/crystallized ginger mixture, and set the balls 1 1/2 inches apart on parchment-lined baking sheets.

4. Bake 11-13 minutes until cookies are light brown around the edges. Let cookies cool on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to complete cooling.

Santa Claus Is Coming To Town...

I have a longstanding love-hate relationship with the CTA, one that has most definitely been treading into hate territory the past week since I sprained my foot at the hands of an overly aggressive bus driver. However, in spite of all my present mass transit rage, there is still one aspect of the CTA that I'm willing to celebrate, one which remains untouched by the deprivations of the current economic crisis, and of which I can muster no criticisms: the Holiday Train. Today, I stood twenty minutes on the platform waiting, sprained foot and all, for the annual Holiday Train to make one of it's three scheduled appearances on the Red Line to catch a glimpse of Santa.

Every December, the CTA rolls out a festively decorated train, complete with a flatbed bearing Santa, his sleigh, and his reindeer. It travels each of the eight train lines on different days, and the CTA provides estimated times of arrival online so that you can coordinate your travel accordingly. I've never caught it when it was going in a direction I needed to travel, so I've never had the occasion to ride it, but I am sufficiently cheered by its mere presence that I don't feel any sense of loss over it.

I became aware of the Holiday Train during my first holiday season living in the city. I had been doing some Christmas shopping, and was waiting for a southbound train to head home. While I waited, a northbound train started pulling into the station, emanating Christmas music. I turned to find the source of the sound when I saw Santa speed by, surrounded by a blur of lights. It was there and gone so quickly, and I was so surprised, I almost wondered if I was hallucinating the entire thing. Of course, I didn't have the presence of mind to take a photo, so I had only my memories as a reminder of the event. I subsequently researched the phenomenon and discovered that I had inadvertently stumbled upon a Chicago tradition.

Last year I didn't manage to catch the train again, but this year I made a point of squeezing it into my December schedule. I felt a little ridiculous waiting for it, as I was clearly the only adult there not accompanied by children, but it was totally worth it. The train pulled into the station with its music blaring, and a very jolly Santa greeting all the passersby. CTA staff dressed as elves passed out candy and oversaw the passengers boarding the train so that the train would not leave anyone at the station. I was sufficiently cheered by its arrival, but the best reactions came from the unsuspecting commuters waiting on the platform to catch their usual ride home. They shrieked with joy, whipping out cell phone cameras and calling friends to tell them about their experience. It was pretty fantastic.

I was particularly pleased to see that the CTA staged the Holiday Train again this year, despite all the budget shortfalls. The Christmas tree in Daley Plaza might have been a complete disappointment, but the CTA (which fails at so many things in general) managed to bear the standard in defending our municipal holiday traditions. Goodness knows we could all use a little extra holiday cheer this year.

Sugar and Spice...

I'm not sure what it is about Martha Stewart's Cookies: The Very Best Treats To Bake And Share this year, but it seems to be holding some sort of strange power over my imagination. I've already baked two new recipes from it in the last few weeks, and yet despite the pile of other cookie recipe books sitting on my counter at the moment, I can't stop turning to Martha for inspiration. Perhaps it has something to do with the fact that it is the holidays, a time that invites ever more spectacular feats of baking with which to impress your friends and family. Nothing says over-the-top and fussy like Martha Stewart.

This time, it was a recipe for Gingersnap Palmiers that caught my fancy. The concept of the recipe seemed deceptively simple: dust puff pastry with a layer of sugar and spices, roll up, bake, and glaze. I was so excited by this impressive, yet seemingly easy dessert that I bought the ingredients and set my mind on serving them at my cookie exchange. It wasn't until I was ready to make the cookies that I carefully read the instructions and discovered the mess that I had gotten myself into. The recipe was rife with annoying sessions of freezing, thawing, and re-freezing the dough. The instructions themselves seemed poorly conceptualized, with steps that were virtually impossible given their sequencing. I ended up improvising several techniques to cope with the failed directions, but my results weren't everything I imagined they would be.

Instead of crisp and buttery like a typical palmier, these were seriously soft and sticky (a result of all the molasses in the glaze). During the baking process, they came mostly uncoiled, a condition which I had to try to rectify when the palmiers were fresh out of the oven, and still very warm. I had added a great deal of additional spices to Martha's suggestions, which made for a spicy, complex flavor that was quite enjoyable, but given all the hassle of preparation, I didn't find them to be worth the effort. Sometimes, my reach exceeds my grasp, even with Martha Stewart on my side.

Gingersnap Palmiers

adapted from Martha Stewart

1/2 c. packed light brown sugar

1/4 c. unsulfured molasses

2 teaspoons finely grated fresh ginger

1/4 c. water

2/3 c. granulated sugar

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1/4 teaspoon allspice

1/4 teaspoon pepper

1/4 teaspoon mace

1/4 teaspoon ground cloves

1/4 teaspoon cardamon

1 package puff pastry, thawed

1. Bring brown sugar, molasses, ginger, and water to a simmer in a saucepan, whisking until sugar has dissolved. Simmer until slightly thickened, 1 to 2 minutes. Pour syrup into a bowl; let cool.

2. Whisk granulated sugar, salt and spices in a bowl. Lightly sprinkle some sugar mixture over a clean work surface; place puff pastry on top. Brush generously with syrup. Sprinkle generously with some sugar mixture; press into pastry with a rolling pin. Working with one piece of dough at a time, roll from both long sides, meeting in the center; brush with syrup to seal. Sprinkle generously with sugar mixture. Wrap in plastic; freeze until firm, at least 3 hours or up to overnight.

3. Cut each piece of frozen dough crosswise into 1/2 inch slices, seam side down. Dip in sugar mixture. Space 2 inches apart on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Flatten with your palm. Freeze 30 minutes.

4. Preheat oven to 425. Bake 10 minutes. Flip, and brush with syrup. Reduce oven temperature to 400. Bake until darkened, 10 minutes more. Let cool completely on wire racks.

Ms. Haley's Opus...

A few weeks ago, I got a summons from the HR department, notifying me that I had been drafted into serving on the Peer Recognition Committee. Apparently, my supervisor had appointed me, without consulting me before hand. There is basically no committee in the museum that I would rather serve on less -- the main purpose of the group is to script and perform in a skit that recognizes special achievements by the museum's staff in the past year. I was fine with helping select the award winners, but I had absolutely no desire to participate in a performance in front of all my coworkers; I would have been having stage-fright-driven panic attacks for weeks before hand. To keep myself out of the skit, I volunteered to produce a media component for the performance.

We settled on a political theme for this year's production: the "Special Achievement by a Non-Supervisory Employee Award" became the "Bleepin' Golden Award," in a nod to Illinois' notorious former governor; the "Mentor Award" became the "Great Communicator Award," named after Ronald Reagan; the "Unsung Hero Award" became the "Ask Not What Your Museum Can Do For You Award" in reference to Kennedy's famous inaugural address; the "Organizational Distinction Award" for teamwork became the "Yes We Can Award." The skit would be conducted like a political press conference, with one of our group members playing the role of Farrah Schmalin, a Sarah Palin parody.

My media component would be a YouTube question for the press conference, riffing on the ridiculous attempt at integrating social media into the 2008 presidential debates. My coworker, Matt, and I got assigned the task of producing the video, in which we interviewed our fellow CHM employees about what they looked for in an "Ask Not What Your Museum Can Do For You Award" recipient. In keeping with the tongue-and-cheek nature of the skit, we attempted to solicit humorous responses from our peers. This video, in which Matt stars, has taken up an inordinate amount of my time over the last week, so I thought I would share my handiwork with all of you on the occasion of today's Peer Recognition Award Ceremony:



Thankfully, the awards went astonishingly well. Stephanie's rendition of Farrah Schmalin was spot on, and drew raucous laughs and applause. Our transitions to our technological components (such as the above YouTube clip) went smoothly, and most importantly (to me at least), my colleagues appreciated the humor of our video. Matt's intentionally corny intro was a crowd-pleaser, as was the reference to the collapsed ceiling in Heidi's office, Jill the curator's lounging soliloquy delivered from a swan, and the bit involving Russell, the Vice President and boss to many, including myself. I am happy that it went well, but I am even happier that the Peer Recognition Awards are over and I can move on with my life.

Gezelligheid...

There is only one musician who could prompt me to justify standing outside in sub-freezing temperatures on a sprained ankle and foot and a bruised knee tendon (I went to the doctor this morning to confirm the diagnosis) to wait for an optimum general admission seat for a concert in which mostly instrumental music would be played. That artist is Andrew Bird. He is far and away my favorite musician. I love his work so much that I can't even identify my favorite song of his, because I enjoy all of them so much. His style is an eclectic fusion of his virtuosic violin talent layered with guitar and his own whistling, which he records on stage and plays back to accompany his vocals. His songwriting, while often nonsensical, demonstrates a remarkable talent for stringing together obscure and erudite words that sound pleasant when combined.

Although this clip isn't from the specific concert I saw tonight, it demonstrates how he layers together his music to create a song.

I first became aware of Andrew Bird when I was in college and my friend Joy recommended him to me. I downloaded his CD, The Mysterious Production of Eggs, and was completely blown away. I've subsequently fallen in love with his later works, Armchair Apocrypha and Noble Beast. Joy had told me all those years ago that Andrew Bird was absolutely incredible live, but I didn't have an opportunity to see him until he performed a free concert in Chicago's Millennium Park in the summer of 2007. I went with a friend, and our lawn seats were way in the back, but Joy did not overstate in the least. As it turns out, Bird (a Chicago native) has something of a penchant for performing in strange venues, so when he announced a concert series at Chicago's Civic Opera House this April, I bought my ticket the very moment they became available. For that concert, I had great seats in the first row of the balcony, and with the better acoustics at the opera house, I discovered a whole new appreciation for Andrew Bird's improvisational live performances. I knew then that I would make every effort to see him perform whenever he was going to be in town.

However, when I heard about his upcoming concert, I took pause: he would be trying out a new concert concept structured around the Dutch concept of Gezelligheid, which translates loosely to coziness. His Chicago show would be held at the landmark 4th Presbyterian Church on Michigan Avenue (again, the strange affinity for unusual concert venues), and would consist of mostly instrumental music. The thing is, I really don't like instrumental music. The thing I value most in music is the craft of songwriting, and its power to evoke emotion through the combination of sonorous word pairings. But, for Andrew Bird, I decided to suck it up and go anyway. If anyone could teach me how to appreciate music without words, it would be him.

Still, I was mentally cursing myself as I arrived in the vicinity of the church an hour and a half before the concert was to start, with a line already forming. Evidently, Andrew Bird has other fans loyal (and stupid) enough to risk hypothermia to see him perform live. I had planned to scout out the area for food options, but with my range of motion severely hampered by my injuries, I decided to just get in line. After an hour, I was starting to have visions of spending my evening in the emergency room having my frostbitten toes amputated, but in the end, my perseverance was rewarded with what was by far the best seat I've ever had at an Andrew Bird concert -- third row, center.

The stage set-up was pretty typical for Andrew Bird. He's been using these distinctive Specimen speakers, shaped like phonograph horns, for as long as I've been seeing him in concert.

The sock monkey in the three-piece suit is also a constant companion at his concerts.

Considering how much I love church architecture, I was quite pleased with this choice of venue, which featured some particularly nice stained glass.

I honestly don't even have the words to describe how phenomenal the concert was. I never thought I would be able to make it through so much instrumental music without being bored, but I was so fascinated with how Andrew Bird kept building and altering his melodies that I couldn't help but be enthralled. He claimed that his goal was to recreate the experience of the music he makes in his home studio, housed in a barn on his western Illinois farm, and in large part I did have the sense that I was watching him workshop new material. The performance definitely had the feeling of a one-man jam session. He did perform four of his songs with lyrics: "Nomenclature," "Natural Disaster," "Scythian Empires," and "The Giant of Illinois," which was enough to keep me happy. Heck, after this experience today, I would be willing to check out any experimental concert concepts he might devise in the future.

I felt a particular personal solidarity with him this evening, as he was forced to scale down some of his usual stage theatrics and perform the entire concert sitting down; he sprained his foot in a concert in Minneapolis last week.