Peanut Love

There is no Santa; of this I am now sure.

Of the prudent sort, I have always been leery of pinning hopes, projections, or fantasies onto just any chimerical illusion. I have steered clear from teen pop star sensations, sparkly objects made to attract friends in high places, and even can’t-miss-Nick with his fire engine red sleigh and entourage of elves-n-deer. Yet for the simple love of peanut butter, I have ventured out of my box of safety late in life, to pen my first ever fan letter sprinkled with a modest flourish of gush. It was sincere, abbreviated and sent to a specialty PB company featured in Saveur #39, with only one slightly heavy handed compliment embedded with the singular hope to procure a recipe sadly and long misplaced. Dejected a month and a half out, I am just now realizing my call has been left unheeded, a sooty lump of coal- cold response to a heart unusually visible upon my sleeve.

Truth is I am a romantic sort falling long and hard, and probably a bit too easily. This cookie was it; my numero uno, the bee’s knees, bewitching rhapsody in peanut, easily out edging black and whites, the snicker doodle, and even Grandma A’s oatmeal cookies. Though pretty standard in many American kitchens, charmed- I viewed peanut butter cookies as rather snappy with their handsome tictactoe brandish. However most recipes left me disgruntled, merely kissed with a whiff of the nutty stuff and I pretty much abstained until I discovered that issue back in 1999. A few twists and tweaks later yielded what I not-so-humbly thought of as my secret weapon, a devastating bite of goodness that instantly delivered a state of content euphoria. Such I discovered, was the power of a good cookie.

It was an elevated baked thing rising out of the hands of babes and into the mouths of adults; toasted and earthy, almost gravelly with the unusual addition of buckwheat/rye/spelt flour (an idea born from eating PB on pumpernickel), a definite lick of salt, and a satisfying wallop of groundnuts. These sturdy half dollar sized buttons were more reminiscent of salty peanuts followed by a chaser of hoppy micro brewed beer than treacly PB&J on white bread. “Assertive spin off of a childhood classic,” they cried. And then, I lost that recipe.

Among other things, I have been quietly sulking for a few years now and in utter rejection of any other peanut butter cookie recipe out there. Too afraid to be disappointed, so substantial were they. But recently a little pang started murmuring inside which roused my stoic mantle and led me down an alley which involved super sleuthing, an out of character plea, the dismissal, and finally up to the moment, now. It is a little foolish describing a love for a cookie, a recipe, and above all, a peanut. But these singular things are never entirely removed from the others surrounding. Yes these cookies are hard to describe terrific, but they were also bites signifying a happy mingle of domesticity, friendships, and a certain place and time. Utterly shocked I was to lose the recipe I so carefully packed and unpacked twice. Contemplating my recipe-less situation and the effect of loss on love, it seemed finally clear that true powers are never really lost but endure, albeit perhaps in a slightly different guise. And that the only response is- to keep on baking.


‘Nutter Time Around Cookies makes about 3 dozen- A riff on a recipe from Bob’s Red Mill. I didn’t want to be caught in the trap of trying too slavishly to recreate PB#39, but I couldn’t help nudging it slightly in that direction. Amaranth gives the texture the slightest microscopic crunch which is very pleasing. Next time I would toast it up a bit before hand. Maybe the time after that I’ll try substituting in a bit of rye flour, after all some loves are hard to forget completely!

Ingredients:
1 C amaranth flour
¼ C spelt flour
½ tsp. sea salt
¼ tsp. baking soda
1 stick unsalted butter softened
1 C chunky peanut butter, most recipes specify not to use the natural PB but I do
1 C sucanat, I would knock this down to ¾ C sugar if I were using straight brown
1 egg
1 ½ tsp. vanilla
Coarse salt

Directions: Sift the first four dry ingredients into a bowl. In a medium mixing bowl place the rest of the ingredients minus the coarse salt. Start your mixing slow and amp it up to medium high for a few minutes. Stop the mixer from time to time to scrap the sides well. Add the pre-sifted dry ingredients into the peanut butter mixture. And incorporate everything on low until just combined. Place the bowl in the refrigerator for at least 30 minutes. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. when time to roll out cookies. Line at least 3 sheets with parchment paper. Grab a small knob of dough and roll quickly into a ball about the size of a quarter. After completing the balls, go back and lightly press down on each cookie top with a fork. I like the chic look of tine imprints in one direction only, but of course this is personal preference. I finish each cookie with a light sprinkle of coarse salt. In the oven they go for about 13 minutes. I am the sort who likes to burn marshmallows… therefore I definitely go a few minutes longer than that. Naturally good with milk and probably not too bad with beer either. Perhaps Santa would be a tad bit more generous with that kind of midnight offering.

Esprit de Cookie

Some women stockpile shoes, a socially acceptable semi-closeted addiction which supports crammed toes clad in sleek leather perfection no matter the price. Well my Achilles' heel is infinitely less glamorous or costly; it comes in the unassuming form of the humble cookie. My house is a haven in large part because of the stash momentarily secure in my tea drawer. In actuality this large cupboard of comestibles is a microcosm of my ideal world. There is a rotating appearance of goodies from thoughtful friends hailing from exotic locations and local haunts. It is hospitable place where sweet and savory nibbles unite over an enticing hot brew, respectful of both private reverie and fanciful fun. Blueprints for the tea drawer actually started quite young. While some girls dreamt about their trousseau whilst playing with Barbie, I was planning the future many-splendid-things-I-would-eat and the very big chest needed to safely stow those treasures away. From the looks of my well padded cupboard, I would say I have finally arrived.

But the teas, honeys, and spreads really just set the stage for the convivial cookie ever ready to play. Ever since kindergarten snack time when we wee tots were given one chocolate cream biscuit with a half pint of milk, my Pavlovian response to the pale thud of cookies sprawled upon a ready surface has been less than ladylike. But mind you, there are rules to follow nonetheless. First, there must be a handful-- at least three, neatly stacked preferably sans plate to keep a casual handle on things. For the cookie that is cupboard tin worthy, it must be of modest size and easily cupped within the palm of the hand for discretion. It also must be able to be stuffed within the mouth in one fell swoop (for the sheer joy of restrained gluttony) or at most two bites. The one cookie limit pretty much ended in kindergarten. There is strength in numbers and while I pretty much don’t care for even digits, four is a particularly desirable CQ (cookie quantity). This may be redundant information but it also dovetails into issues like “over-the-topness”, and that is the giant Mrs. Field’s type confection crammed uncomfortably full with superlatives, white chocolate, cocoa covered raisins, marshmallows, toffee bits, and frosting-- is completely and utterly rejected. The sugar beast is at least 5 bites wide and to my estimation if four of those bad boys were to be consumed; there would be serious gastrointestinal debt to pay. There is no dignity to tell tale chunks of goo left behind on the face, keyboard or lap. One would pretty much graduate from the restrained glutton to the full fledged and cherished well behaved guests would justifiably stare.

Well providence showered down upon my tea drawer these past few weeks as experimentation with chickpea flour turned towards the sweet. In stupefying swiftness, a North African honey hued delight crossed the Atlantic to become new house favorite. Ghoreyba soumsoum is not only whimsical word sound but is a shattering mouthful of sandy textured crumbs which perfectly conjures a mirage of palm trees amidst dry desert heat. A few cupfuls of hot tea would make good travel companion to quell parched throats and unravel any remaining discernable tension. Additionally appealing, the creation of this exotic treat is a delightful breeze leaving more uncensored moments for cookie dreaming and eating. Flour to flame unleashes earthy color from within as the raw taste of legume is exchanged for a substrate toasted and nutty. Melted butter and oil combine and then are quickly turned into a handful of other unremarkable ingredients. One, two, three- fetching, soft dough is born and quietly exclaimed over before rolling, slicing, and baking. Yes, there will be a few moments of wait in cooling, but think this breeds patience and possibly a few other virtues. Mark this moment in your mind, as this cookie obliterates all others that came before. It is the power of the flour, the perfect crumble of sun and sand, simplicity, and rich lingering taste that will elicit eternal allegiance and firm standing in any tea drawer. Dessert it is not- the good natured cookie needs no fan fare, no doily, no runcible spoon…only nibbles and a few pauses for pleasure.


Ghoreyba soumsoum: Adapted from Is that my buréka? Thanks to burekaboy for permission to re-tell/interpret his recipe. Check out his post for more detailed information and directions. There are also a lot of interesting recipes on his site, like pickled turnips! Back to the cookies…

Ingredients:
1 ½ C toasted chickpea flour
½ C spelt flour
¼ C tsp. baking powder
½ C sugar

¼ C grapeseed oil
6 Tblsp. melted unsalted butter
1 Tblsp. water

½ C sesame seeds

Directions: Spread the chickpea flour on a shallow pan and toast in the oven watching closely for the color to darken somewhat and a nutty smell to emerge. Cool and sift with the remaining dry ingredients into a large bowl. Mix the wet ingredients together and pour into the dry- giving a good stir and then turn the mixture out to give it a light knead. Cut the dough into 4 balls and roll into ropes approximately ¾ inches thick. Place sesame seeds into a shallow dish and roll each rope in the seeds. Cut the ropes into slightly bigger than ½ inch diagonal slices. Place the slices on parchment covered baking sheets and bake at 325 degrees for about 15 minutes. Cool.

Wicked...

My introduction was far from pleasant. I was in bed defenseless the first time I tasted whoopie pie, pieces shoved into my unsuspecting mouth. Strange to recall now, yet disturbingly true. I was too thin and in need of fattening up, she was going through a bad time and needed an excuse to buy decadent treats. J_ my irrepressibly loud attendant, the one with the gravelly smoker’s voice and Boston accent, the woman who wore leopard print velour leggings and entered my quiet home and tranquil mornings with the cacophonic slam and crash of bags, purses, and every possible moving thing held me captive with a sweet tooth she kept foisting onto me to share.

Key lime mousse torte, ricotta filled cannoli, pumpkin cheesecake, quick breads made from too much zucchini and an overload of nervous energy, all this and more kept filing past my kitchen counter at a mind numbing insulin raising clip. In spite of being near buried by an avalanche of sugar, I could not help noticing her propensity for whoopie pies: mom and pop corner store ones, puffy commercially produced synthetically filled ones; softball shaped and sized ones, even holiday themed ones. In instinctual defense I turned inside myself like a hermit crab shutting off to any possibility for full-on whoopie appreciation. Until recently-- from gentler hands, upright and in the mood, a re-introduction to this hand held confection had me swooning and righting myself round again.

Whoopie pies simply are the stuff of kids’ dreams. Two fetchingly soft and sloped chocolate cookies good naturedly cradle a satiny white cream filling to produce something ‘tween a cookie and a cake. While these quintessential New England treats somewhat resemble the Hostess Suzy –Q’s of lunchbox fame, its over-the-top size, taste and texture wins discerning fans respectably mature and youthful alike.

Though relatively new to this down home comfort food, it clearly answers a call put forth long ago when I was young, unbridled and hungry. Then it seemed as if I was always scanning the horizon for something immeasurably sweet to make up for the boredom of everyday food consumption and the exhaustive efforts of constant play. As well, I wanted more- and lots of it. I was calculating and angling eternally for the bigger piece of pie, stretching my fingers broad to grab a heftier handful of cookies. I willed myself to enjoy adult bitter chocolate since it would increase the consumable yield of my Halloween stash by some small fraction. Loyal only to quenching my hunger, even taste occasionally needed to take a backseat to quantity.

And then there was cake. Better than saltines and Ritz crackers. Better than Millbrook bread, staple of my youth. Serving to serving, loftier than cookies, fatter than brownies, more filling than pie, I preferred cake. This was my food of deliverance. While the holy host, dry and stale wafer is the living body of Christ wedding one to eternal life, soft moist cake embraces the here and now and celebrates every day life on humbler ground. It is warm inviting hug, the promise and hope of lazy summer days. It is the sigh and fulfillment of things wanted, besides leaving a sweet lingering taste behind.

So whoopie pies are the wild uncompromising love children between wholesome if not moderate cake and irresponsibly sweet, drunk-on-vanilla filling. If eaten correctly, hands and cheeks will be dappled and smudged with chocolate crumb stained cream and euphoric feelings will gradually take over rendering one useless for serious matters. These chocolate gobs should not be eaten alone (unless fatally depressed, then it may be advisable to eat two) but amidst jovial company and with chasers of milk. They should never be miniaturized into degrading versions of their jolly ample self. They are the epitome of sweet generosity, innocence and delicious fun. And here in these parts, that translates into being wicked… wicked good that is.

Whoopie Pies makes 4 pies which feeds 16 average eaters and 8 hungry ones: I went straight to the “best of” source, Mr. Christopher Kimball himself. This recipe comes directly from a Kitchen Detective article. His strategy was to produce two very distinct components. The cake-ish cookie was to be moist, yet substantial enough to withstand firm hand pressure without crumbling apart. He also didn’t use vanilla or too much sugar, so that the cake would stand in contrast to the filling which generously uses both. The filling needed to be fluffy yet have enough body so that bites would not send the insides oozing dangerously out the sides. All in all the pies were pretty wonderful. The filling is the best I have ever had. The whoopie pies were worth eating for this alone. Next time I would add 2 oz. of melted unsweetened chocolate to the batter, to intensify the flavor. Note: I did subsequently make these with the additional chocolate and it was better. I ended up altering the butter/confectionery sugar slightly from the original posting as well.

Ingredients for the cookie:
½ C whole milk
½ C Dutch process cocoa
2 oz. unsweetened chocolate
1 C sugar
1 stick unsalted butter
2 large eggs
1 ¾ C all-purpose flour
¾ tsp. baking powder
¾ tsp. baking soda
¼ tsp. salt

Filling:
1 1/4 stick unsalted butter at room temperature
1 3/4 confectioners’ sugar
2 C Marshmallow Fluff
¼ tsp. salt
1 ½ tsp. vanilla

Directions: For the cakes, preheat oven to 350. Place parchment on 2 cookie sheets and set aside. Make a slurry with the milk and cocoa in a small pan. Turn heat onto medium, add sugar, unsweetened chocolate and butter mixing until melted. Turn off heat and let the mixture sit for ten minutes. Add both eggs to the cooled chocolate and blend until mixture is shiny. Sift dry ingredients in an electric mixer bowl and add the chocolate. Blend on low until just mixed. Scrape down sides and increase speed to medium for about 90 seconds. Spoon about 4 tablespoons of mixture into a mound on the parchment. Leave 2 inches of space around the cookie. 4 similar size cookies per sheet. Repeat on the next cookie sheet. Bake in oven for approximately 8 -10 minutes until toothpick comes out clean. Do not overbake! Cool.

Meanwhile make the filling. Whip butter at medium speed for about 1 minute. Add sugar on low until incorporated. Increase speed to medium high and whip until light and fluffy for about 3 minutes. Add the Fluff, salt, and vanilla and whip an additional minute or so. Refrigerate. To assemble the whoopie pies, flip over 4 discs so that the flat sides are up. Slather the filling equally between the 4 discs and top with the remaining cookies. Cover loosely and refrigerate to help hold shape. After an hour serve or wrap them individually in saran wrap. Enjoy with a big glass of milk.

Oat Cuisine

Avena Sativa is no ordinary gal. In fact some say this valuable grass with the luxuriantly swaying edible seed heads sprawled forth from a wilder bunch, vagabond weeds running rampant across the broad plains of Asia and Europe. This survivalist’s success is due some part to its ability to withstand sub par soil and climate conditions. Avena is able to thrive where others wither and fall and sympathetically, this characteristic is transferred to those who ingest this powerhouse plant. Oats are soothing nourishing fare. Its many forms are high in fiber which helps stabilize blood sugar and strengthen the heart. Medicinally, the long slender stems were discovered to calm nerves and strengthen the endocrine system. Oat straw is an herbal anti-depressant, an anti-inflammatory and high in calcium too. Befittingly the genus name Avena means ‘nourishing’ in Latin and people the world over observe hale vigorous behavior in those who eat and sow oats.

Yet substantially impressive as this food is, it fails to rile much enthusiasm from me. Oatmeal is a practical food choice that is gentle on the budget while providing a bounty of health benefits. But it can be challenging to focus on the pluses of oat grain when the grey lumpy mist of porridge past is weighing down on one’s memory. Gruel can be cruel. And while I have managed to dress up the tasteless hot cereal of yesterday with an arsenal of sugar and spice and everything nice, when all is said and done the cooked grain is still a mottled muddle of blandness. Somewhere in the center of the chew, in the sweet nuttiness of the fiber is a potential waiting to be captured and explored in another form, like in cookies.

Until now I never thought much about cookie hierarchy. I think of myself as an equal opportunity food lover, embracing all and rejecting none with exception of the sugary Otis Spunkmeyer discs sold at the 7-11 or the “homemade” cookies individually saran wrapped by the check out counter of a gas station. Along with these two types which are really subtle variations of the same thing, oatmeal cookies are at the bottom rung of my ladder. I cannot help feeling that oatmeal cookies are for sissies, for those that lurk behind the shadows of their mother’s knees. The choice of digestive biscuits, seem to be for those not quite weaned from the security of Pablum. They are the “next step up” and worse, they are often studded with the anti-chip, the shrunken sullen raisin.

Praise be to Ceres, the goddess of grains for putting me within reaching range of an oatmeal cookie capable of contradicting my previously unwarranted judgments. It is as if Aveda Sativa shape shifted to take on the form and person of Grandma A, a fine indefatigable woman with high shelf bosom, black sturdy shoes and a penchant for shouting, “Yoo-hoo!” at the top of her lungs. And did I mention this deliverer made a mean oatmeal cookie? While I never had the chance to directly meet her in person, I sense the outline of her being through her brawny-yet-delicate trademark cookies. These iconoclastic beauties put the haute in oat. Each grain is coated in an armor of brittle yet is laced with a heady fragrance of vanilla. The gossamer sweet crisp is populated with a scattering of bronzed roasted oats, cascading seeds in the wind. If Nature is a cathedral, these would be her communion wafers- a life giving celebration of earth’s best. So you can stick to mushy meal to guide you through your day, but I have a better suggestion and that is to tuck a few of Grandma A’s cookies down your hatch. It is an infinitely more delightful way to get the goodness of this great grain and break the fast too.

Grandma A’s Oatmeal Cookies: These cookies are deceptively simple. You may want to fuss with the recipe just as I wanted to do… But it is a sacred family recipe that is really best to leave alone.

Ingredients:
3 C rolled oats
1 C brown sugar
1 C all purpose flour
1 C melted butter
1/8 C boiling water
½ tsp salt
1 tsp baking soda
¼ tsp baking powder
1 tsp vanilla
½ C chopped walnuts

Directions: Place the oats, brown sugar and flour in a bowl and gently mix together. Slowly pour the melted butter over this mixture and stir until combined. Pour the boiling water in a glass container and mix in the soda and stir until fizzing stops. Then add the baking powder, salt and vanilla and stir until dissolved. Add the water to the oat mixture and stir again. Add nuts, stir and refrigerate mixture until firm, at least a half hour. Meanwhile preheat oven to 375 degrees. Prepare cookie sheets with parchment paper and form loose balls about the size of a medium to large sized marble with the dough. These cookies spread a bit so do not pack them in too close. Bake for about 10 minutes until deep golden brown. Let cookies cool a bit before moving off the sheet so they do not tear. The cookies will become dangerously crisp as they cool.