Several weeks ago, before cookie month even started, I was trying to decide what to bake when a blog post from King Arthur Flour appeared on my Facebook wall. The recipe was for their Kids’ Choice Chip & Fruit Oatmeal Cookies. The name was a little unwieldy, but the recipe itself looked delicious (as most KAF recipes do), and the feedback from bakers across the country was coming in at warp speed – they ARE delicious! I was intrigued by the fact that they used oatmeal and white whole wheat flour, making them vaguely healthy, and also that they encouraged you to use whatever add-in combination you desired. Mrslovey and I started throwing out combination ideas for when I’d make these at some point in the future. After several minutes of back and forth, I mentioned that we had some dried sour cherries left over from another recipe. Oooh, you know what would go good with those? Dark chocolate chips! Yep, we’ve got those, too. But what about the nuts? And then it hit us both at the same time – PISTACHIOS – and we nearly fell over each other racing for the kitchen. Who cares about dinner, we have to make these cookies NOW!!!!! Read the rest of this entry ?
The other day we were hit with a serious chocolate craving. I’m talking capital “S” Serious. Chew-your-own-face-off serious. So serious that serious recipe consideration would be needed. This wouldn’t be satisfied by any half-assed wannabe somewhat thinking about chocolate recipe. We needed something overwhelmingly chocolate. The chocolatelyest chocolate cookie that could be found, no holds barred.
I think the results were successful. These cookies are deeply, darkly chocolate. They’re a little crisp around the edges, but have a fudgy, chewy interior. I used one of my new favorite ingredients, Bensdorp Dutch-Process Cocoa. Between the Dutch-processing and the full-fat, it gives it a darker, more chocolate flavor, with a beautiful mouthfeel (you can use regular non-Dutched cocoa, but you’ll lose some of the extreme chocolate flavor). Next, chocolate chunks were added. If you stole a cookie moments after they came out of the oven (not that we would ever do that), then the chunks were hot pockets of molten chocolate goo. If you waited until they were fully cooled (of course we did), then you’d chomp into a big nugget of pure chocolate. I also added toffee pieces to give a little more depth of flavor, and the ones on the bottom of the cookies were a little caramelized and crunchy. Yum.
Altogether, an exquisite cookie, and just what was needed to chase away the chocolate fiend that had taken up temporary residence. Another benefit is that since the recipe made so many (5 dozen) we were able to send samples to both workplaces, avoiding potential rioting. I knew I had a good thing when one of my coworkers, who normally doesn’t praise beyond ‘good cookies, thanks,’ stopped at my desk, and tried to tell me how much she liked them, but wasn’t able to finish her sentences due to the groaning and twitching and eye rolling (all in a good way) that accompanied each bite. Seriously. You’ve been warned. Read the rest of this entry ?
From practically the first moment I contemplated putting things in a hot oven and seeing what happens, mrslovey’s been up my butt to make her some cinnamon bread. Somehow, I’ve managed to avoid this request for nearly a decade now. At this point it’s a running joke between us. It’s not that I didn’t want to make it for her. Initially, I was simply terrified by yeast breads, and I didn’t want to risk messing up something she was so excited about. Eventually I became more confident in this area, but still never seemed to produce a loaf. Want to know why? I’ll tell you why – there are quite possibly one zillion recipes for cinnamon swirl bread out there, and no two are the same. How the heck was I supposed to know which one was the right one?
Once it was confirmed that this month was yeast bread month, I knew that there was no way I could possibly avoid this task any longer. Not wanting to be solely responsible (really, not wanting the overwhelming task of picking a single recipe), I sent mrslovey to the cookbookcase and told her to come back with the winner. All I heard from the kitchen for about 30 minutes was the turning of pages. Finally she emerged with an orange coil-bound book that I don’t recall ever seeing before. Midwestern church cookbook, 1975, hoo daddy. “This, this is the one you’ll make!” Ok, if you say so! I figure if it failed miserably, I can always blame Mrs. Magnusen.
The recipe is written as if you’re sitting at the kitchen table while she’s making the bread. A couple of the ingredients are kind of vague on how much, or else lacking quantities completely. When it gets to the loaf shaping part, she goes on a complete tangent. You could do it this way, or that way, or make some of this other thing and put this in it…it went on forever, swear. From start to finish the written recipe was almost two solid pages long. Now, I know that I can be chatty, but that was a little ridiculous. Plus, I’m lazy and don’t want to type all that out. So I present to you my interpretation, with far fewer words, and a couple of tweaks. And how did it turn out, you ask, this long-awaited loaf? I’m afraid the words I’d use to describe it could be considered sacrilegious, so in deference to Mrs. Magnusen, I won’t type them out here. Read the rest of this entry ?
Anadama bread is delicious. And it definitely originates in New England. Pretty much everyone agrees on these two things. What isn’t as clear, however, is the exact source of the name. Depending on who you talk to/what you read, it was either a farmer or a fisherman, exasperated with the constant diet of cornmeal and molasses his wife, Anna, was feeding him. Apparently, the farmer just cursed his wife. The fisherman craved bread, so he threw some yeast and flour into his daily mush, left it near the fire, and ate the resulting loaf. Whichever is true (if either is), it’s an amusing story that reflects on how these two ingredients were a staple in the early New Englander’s daily diet. I’ve been looking forward to making a loaf of anadama for several months, and finally got around to it today.
Holy cow, this is GOOD bread. Possibly the best loaf so far this year.
The loaf itself feels substantial in the hand, but the bread is not overly heavy. Does that make sense? It’s like the tip on how to pick ripe fruit – find one that feels heavy for its size. Anyway. The cornmeal added a delicious flavor and texture, and was a nice departure from all-wheat breads. I was worried that the molasses would be overwhelming, but it just lent a nice undertone. This bread has great depth of flavor. The crust is dark and chewy, with a sprinkling of cornmeal on top for added contrast. The crumb is moist, dense, and amazingly flavorful. It would lend itself well to toast or sandwiches. Our first taste was with just a smear of butter. For dessert, we spread a little jam. I’m sure I’ll be making this again and again and again. And again. Damn you, Anna. Read the rest of this entry ?
loveysoven 