Category: TABLE OF CONTENTS CATEGORIES

The categories used in the TOC of Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World

SOUTHERN TEA CAKES, The Most Genteel Of Cookies

The great cookie of the antebellum south

Kate and I recently put out a call to food writers and bloggers around the country for information about any cookie tied to the soul of their city or region. This was the first cookie we heard about, courtesy of Mr. Stacey Little of Southernbite.com. And a worthy cookie it proved to be!

Click Here For The Recipe without the discussion.

The Tea Cakes tradition goes back to the antebellum south, entrenched so deeply that even today it can be hard to find a church social, teatime, or other gathering that lacks some plates for guests to enjoy. The flavor matches up to that history. Kate and I agreed on “genteel” as the right adjective to describe how these feel when you eat them. They’re at the heart of that tradition called genteel Southern hospitality.

I am a northerner and Kate an immigrant, so neither of us had ever heard of or experienced this cookie. That sent me to Dr. Internet for second-hand experience to start the process.

Recipes abound, with virtually every one describing their version as “just like Grandma’s.” As in 90-95%. Anyone who hasn’t done such research may not appreciate how amazing that consistency is. I found 20 recipes to start with, all of them written independently by people striving to be different while caring enough to honor their heritage as well as they could. What does it take for 20 different people to end up focused on that single image of Grandma proudly presenting the treat she’d learned from her own? It shows how deep the cultural roots really are.

Me being me, I compiled a table of ingredients normalized to two sticks of butter. Then I stepped back to look for an underlying formula.

Choices to Make: Roll or Cut

A few patterns leapt right off the page. First, the writers split more or less evenly on whether to do a drop cookie or a cut out. We chose the roll-and-cut method for our initial version, driven by two reasons. First, most of the recipes call for extra large cookies, as do the array of photos that popped up in my search. Cookies of that size either spread uncontrollably – which conflicted with the possibility of cutting the dough out – or else need some help to stay under control. Second, the idea of large, buttery dough in the American South immediately sent my imagination spinning toward the famous tradition of southern biscuits. How much more “heritage” could you get? And wouldn’t a cookie version of biscuits make sense?

I couldn’t say yes or no either way, but it was a good place to start.

Then I went back to fill in details. Did you know that typical drinking glasses have a diameter of 3″, which not coincidentally pairs exactly to a standard biscuit cutter? Many of the roll-and-cut writers said to use “a round cutter or drinking glass” for the job. The same instruction appears in biscuit recipes. Fair enough. That would be our starting point.

NOTE: Testing proved that I agonized far too much over this choice. Tea Cake dough will ball-and-squish just as well as it rolls-and-cuts. That’s what I did with the leftover scraps, and we found it hard to distinguish the two outside of size and regularity.

Choices to Make: Buttermilk?

Second question: Many writers add in buttermilk. It’s a readily available ingredient, if one we don’t keep in the house as a staple. Was it worth a trip to the market? You bet it was! Remember that analogy to southern biscuits? Southern buttermilk biscuits? This was a gimme. Besides, some buttermilk tang would help to distinguish this recipe from all the other butter cookies we’ve researched over the years.

It proved to be the right choice. That flavor really does matter.

Catching the Vibe: Variations That Really Aren’t

Everyone agrees that Southern Tea Cakes are, first and foremost, all about the texture. They’re supposed to straddle the line between cake and cookie. The universal instruction to bake until the edges start to brown supports that. It shows there’s also a required contrast between the cookie rim and center. So that was a mandatory target. But what about the flavor?

How many variations are there? Buttermilk, which I’d already decided to try. Then there’s lemon; brown sugar instead of white; nutmeg (but no other spices); and… Wait a second! Those aren’t true variations!

You can make faux buttermilk by mixing lemon into whole milk or half-and-half, often with a fleeting hint of nutmeg. (Nutmeg and dairy love each other, as shown by classic examples such as béchamel sauce). For that matter, many dairy-centric baking recipes also use brown sugar, because a very gentle molasses flavor helps to enhance the base flavor. These recipes weren’t showing different targets. They were just different methods to home in on the same target: a cookie with a profound taste of old fashioned, intensely flavored, aged or mildly fermented butter.

Suddenly it all made perfect sense. And the simple fact that everything aims to the same goal shows yet again how much the culture cares about getting this particular cookie right. We tested all of those tricks and came to the following conclusions:

  • Buttermilk: Oh my, yes. It helps in endless ways, and makes the cookie different. We settled on ⅓ cup, right in between the ¼ cup of many examples, and the ½ cup of many more. Modify at will, making up for the extra (or missing) liquid by adjusting the amount of flour.
  • Brown Sugar: An extremely subtle difference in flavor. Someone who cared could argue us into liking it better. Someone who cared the other way could argue us back.
  • Lemon Zest: Disappointing if you use enough to taste it, because it comes across as a failure from both directions. You could convert this to a proper lemon cookie by using 2-3 lemons worth of zest with a sharp glaze made from the juice. Anything short of that left us feeling cheated, until the level drops down low enough to satisfy the anchovy rule: anchovies make food taste better until you can taste them. Then they work in reverse.
  • Nutmeg: See the anchovy rule yet again. A barely discernible hint – no more than ⅛ teaspoon – kicks the whole thing up. Any more than that yields a nutmeg cookie. Really good nutmeg cookies, yes; but a different product when all is said and done. We’ve included the larger amount as a true variation worth trying on its own merits.
  • Other Extract: Do as you like. We prefer to stay true to the original target and intent.
Lemon Molasses
Nutmeg Plain

Vanilla Is Mandatory

Go back and look at that table. Every recipe – 100 % – includes an extremely generous amount of vanilla. We settled on three teaspoons of extract (a/k/a one tablespoon), but this is a case where your taste matters more. Try the recipe as written, take notes, and then adapt it as you wish. Or not.

Roll With Flour, Which Can Be Plain All Purpose

Liquid buttermilk makes this a sticky dough. Like biscuits yet again! Rolling the cookies out on a floured board solved the problem. Just don’t work it over and over, because that could make the cookies tough. Remember: good Tea Cakes have that on-the-line texture, and bad Tea Cakes got too tough.

DIGRESSION: We worried needlessly about whether the texture challenge would require a different flour. It’s a big deal for buttermilk biscuits. Would it matter for Tea Cakes too? I hit the e-books again and found that some people actually tested this. The answer is “No, the flour doesn’t make a difference.” We can also tell you that our cookies came out with the perfect texture using King Arthur all-purpose flour; a brand notorious for its high protein content.

Testing The Cookie: We Have a Winner!

So… I baked the cookies in four batches to cover all the variations. They had a nice flavor. They weren’t just another butter cookie. The texture fit all those descriptions. So they were capital-g Good. But were they capital-r Right?

I took a tin of samples and headed for a soul food restaurant on the North Side. Those owners would know for sure!

Closed. And not just for the day. Grr.

But I wasn’t going to give up! I stopped a pair of local street people on my way back to the car, and asked if they could direct me to some other local spot where I could find someone who grew up in the south. “Somewhere like Alabama, Louisiana, Georgia, Tennessee, or the like.”

Instant suspicion! “Why do you want to know?”

After all these years I’ve got that answer down to an art form. You wouldn’t believe how many people think I’m peddling hash brownies or the like. Free cookies = ulterior motives. So I come prepared with both evidence and explanations. Show book; explain that I’m the author; explain about research; explain about the cookie; show the recipe; and then explain that “I can tell if it’s good. That’s easy. But I need native testers to tell me if I’ve got it Right.”

They reacted the same as everyone else, with that head cocked, ‘I guess that makes sense’ look. The one in heavy dreadlocks mumbled something. His friend translated. “He wants you to know that he’s from Alabama.”

I looked at the man and asked, “Do you know Tea Cakes? The cookie? That’s what I’m working on.”

His eyes lit up before he turned to look at the street. He mumbled something to acknowledge a small experience or two.

“Would you mind tasting one of these, and telling me if I’ve got it Right?”

He took the cookie, gave it a good nibble, and got a bit misty eyed. Then he turned his back. Nibble. Grab with both hands instead of one. Nibble more. Munch. Followed by munch, munch, and more munch, grabbing up crumbs until the cookie was gone. Then he gave me a thumbs-up, still turned away.

“That means you got it right,” his friend said.

“Do you want one? Take your pick. There’s another for him too if he’d like.” Another turned-away thumbs up. Then they vanished up an alley to who knows where or what, heads together and talking.

But I still had some cookies to dispose of. Kate would not approve if I returned to the house with dietary sin still in hand. Besides, one tester – however enthusiastic – is still just one.

We’d been standing outside the local public library, so why not? I made my way in, found the young man at the desk, and went through the story again. “Did anyone here grow up in the south? Somewhere like Alabama, Louisiana, Georgia, Tennessee?”

“No, I’m afraid not. I grew up in North Carolina, and that’s as close as you’re going to get.”

“Oh,” I said. “That’s too bad. But… would you happen to know a cookie called Tea Cakes?” His face lit up.

“Of course I do!”

“Care to test one for me?” Book up; recipe shown; explanation made; etc.

“Sure, I’d love to.” One bite and he came close to misting up too. “Y’know, it’s weird how tasting something from your childhood can bring up so many emotions. I didn’t expect that.”

What could I say except to agree? Cookies have a magic, and that’s a big part.

The last cookie went to his fellow librarian at the end of the counter. She was from somewhere just outside the city. “These are really good! I never heard of them before.”

I left as he began to enthuse about growing up in Tea Cake Land. That’s another part of the magic.

Conclusion

Southern Tea Cakes fit every category of “heritage” you could ever imagine. Right down to embodying a proud part of the culture itself. They really are genteel Southern hospitality incarnate. Homey and a little sweet, with nothing strange except an oddly familiar tang to the dairy flavor, and a remarkable texture right on the line between cake and cookie.

We wholeheartedly approve.

And now I’m off to confirm those findings. Again. I am a loyal husband, after all, and protecting my wife from regret comes with the job. If that means I must throw myself on the fork, so be it.

Enjoy!

NOTE FROM KATE: I agree that Southern Tea Cakes came as a happy surprise. They are pleasantly soft on the day of baking, but harden a bit on the second day. I expressed my mild disappointment with the lemon zest ones, so we talked it over. Yes, it’s there for butter support. No, this is not meant to be a lemon cookie. We have plenty of lemon cookie recipes, and this one isn’t one of them. Scott pretty much said what needed to be said. As for his valiant defense of my waistline, all I can say is, there are risks that come with being around cookies – especially when photographing them. Even though I enjoy some as part of the creative process, it really helps to get them out of the house!

SCANDINAVIAN JAM SNIPS (“MARMELADSNITTAR”), A Class One Addictive Substance

An utterly delicious cookie from Scandinavia suitable for bakers of all skill levels.

There’s a cookie-baker archetype that goes like this: People are always popping in and out, and every time they do s/he whips up a quick batch of cookies and… And a secondary archetype for the young baker: S/he will get an urge, and vanish into the kitchen on his/her own to whip of a quick batch of…

In America those are almost always Chocolate Chip Cookies. In Australia and New Zealand it’s Anzac Cookies. In Scandinavia it’s these utterly addictive, 30 minute start-to-snarf treats that vary in infinite ways according to the jam in your fridge. I defy any human to see a plate and fail to take one on the way past.

Click Here To Skip To The Recipe

Scandinavian bakers have a trick they use for a whole series of homey cookies: form the dough into long logs, bake until done, and then snip the slump logs into elegant strips. The word “snittar” means pieces that have been snipped, cut, or sliced out. The cookie names vary according to the flavor. Kolasnittar for caramel snips; Chokladsnittar for cocoa snips; Jordgubbsnittar for strawberry snips; Kardemummasnittar for cardamom snips; etc. Marmeladsnittar would mean any cookie of this type made with jam. The online translations almost always use “cuts” or “slices,” but we thought “snips” captured the image best in colloquial English.

Strawberry is the most traditional jam in Scandinavia. Americans tend toward raspberry. We loved apricot. Anything will do. And best of all? Every variation earns its own name! So you can fill a book with “different” recipes simply by changing from one jam to another, or by adding an ingredient to the dough. Or you could in Sweden. We’re stuck with English. Drat.

This is the most basic recipe for all the “snittar” group; a light, vaguely crispy, addictively perfect butter cookie from which you can create all those thousands of variations.

Tricks Of The Trade

There really aren’t any, more’s the shame. I would feel much safer if there were. But here are a few observations to help explain the big picture.

  • Speaking Bakerese, this is a simple creaming method cookie. Cream the butter and sugar, beat in the egg, flavor, and then work in the flour and baking powder.
  • The recipe calls for slightly less flour than roll-and-cut cookies because it’s designed to slump and spread a bit in the oven. Which, of course, makes them taste extra light and buttery.
  • One recipe makes four logs the length of a standard baking tray. It’s hard to divide because of the single egg, but the dough can be wrapped and frozen for another day.
  • Do not press in a deep channel, or your cookies will be so thin in the middle that they’ll break in that spot. You want a nice, lengthwise dent to keep the jam oriented. No more.
  • Don’t use too much jam. Scott usually argues that more jam in cookie is that much more delicious. Kate prefers scarcity. In this case she’s right. The butter cookie is the star, and the jam is an accent.
  • Let the cookies set on the baking tray for a few minutes in order to set up, and then slice while warm. A bench scraper works every bit as well as a knife for this, and maybe better.
  • Diagonal slices look a little more elegant.

NOTE FROM KATE: regarding the jam amount, I applied the apricot jam using a piping bag, whilst Scott used a spoonfor the strawberry jam. [FROM SCOTT: My apologies. We’ve been watching too many British mysteries] You can see them both in the photo above. Honestly? I like his better. That thin line doesn’t spread as wildly, and makes it look like I tried too hard. Which I did. Go wild!

(The bowl below isn’t precision pottery, either. I made it, a beginner’s effort, and I allowed it to slump on the wheel to see what happens. If I can get away with making pottery that has “character,” the same goes for these cookies! ) And now I want to try them with a poppyseed filling. Poor Scott, that’s so not his thing.

Enjoy!

ONE FINAL NOTE: Please don’t blame us for what happens as these cookies migrate from house to hips, and platter to paunch. These are a Class One Addictive Substance! You have been warned!

JOE FROGGERS, Americana From The Age Of Sail

A revolutionary war cookie from coastal Massachusetts.

Imagine an arm around your shoulders and friendly voice saying, “Hi. I’m a cookie.” Then add in this quote from one of our tasters: “That’s the biggest, softest, easiest going ginger snap I ever tasted! Or is it gingerbread?” And then triangulate with sailors on a clipper ship singing in the sunlight, “Ho, ho, ho and a bottle of rum!” Somewhere in that intersection you’ll find Joe Froggers, a cookie created right after the Revolutionary War at a Marblehead Island inn outside of Boston, Massachusetts.

Click Here To Go Directly To The Recipe

The Cookie On Its Own

Joe Froggers are a soft, gently spiced molasses cookie with a nice finish from a tot of dark rum in the dough. The cookies were designed and intended for grownups, but they’re also as kid friendly as a cookie can be. The texture is plush and easy; the flavor simple, familiar, and a bit raisiny from the molasses; and they’re about the width of a small child’s face (4″-6″ across), which guarantees the ‘eyes light up with delight‘ reaction.

The earliest versions were made with lard. Most modern recipes call for shortening. Butter tastes best of all, of course, but you give up a bit in the way of texture. We make them with a 50/50 mix of butter unless there’s a special reason to be historically accurate.

NOTE FROM KATE: I felt a need to be historically accurate, so Scott made the first batch with lard. This beautiful cookie is friendly and cheerful, but I felt like I had to work against the unfamiliar flavor of lard after the third bite. This particular fat’s texture sticks to the mouth a bit more than butter or shortening. Not a familiar sensation. Next time I’d go with half lard and half butter. Despite its undeniable culinary advantages, I don’t particularly like shortening, as it’s an ultra-processed food, but YMMV. I can see this one becoming a family favorite!

That’s about all you need to know. It’s a big old, friendly, arm around your shoulders cookie.

“Joe Froggers?” A Taste Of History

The general outline of the story is well known and documented, with its own page at the Marblehead Museum website. The story goes like this.

Once upon a time there was a Revolutionary War veteran named Joseph Brown, son of an enslaved, African-American mother and a Wampanoag father. He and his wife Lucretia opened an inn on Marblehead Island after the war, right next to a local frog pond.

Photo, credited to the Smithsonian Institution, found at MarbleheadMuseum.org.

Lucretia invented the cookie, and it became something of a sensation. They’re not only delicious, but they also have enough molasses to keep for a very long time. The revolutionary era Massachusetts economy centered on fishing, trade, and other maritime activities. Marblehead was a major seaport and shipbuilding center, so much so that it’s also known to history as “the birthplace of the American navy.” That fame would only grow as the young nation built its vast fleet of clipper ships.

Joe Froggers (and Hermits) quickly became the treats of choice to send off on long voyages around the Atlantic, and later around the world. Small, tasty, long lasting, and relatively inexpensive because much of the nation’s molasses and rum trade came through Massachusetts ports.

The name itself is more debatable, with every source we’ve found claiming to have the one true answer. It’s certainly related in some way to the pond out back. And the “Joe” part certainly comes from Joe Brown. Others note that Lucretia Brown (“Aunt Creese”) originally made these on a skillet, like extra chewy pancakes, and everyone who’s done such things will know how often the neat, round shapes you’re after come out looking vaguely like a frog. Others argue for the lily pad idea.

Decide as you like. This is me hoppity hop hopping away from all such debates. It’s probably some combination of them all, plus the fact that the name itself is so fun.

Moving on, Brown’s Inn grew into an immensely popular community center for celebrations of all kinds. Joe became the town fiddler, with his own set of local legends. And Lucretia’s breads, buns, cookies, and cakes were the best one could find. The couple eventually grew into local legends in their later years, and then expanded into lore and myth after their deaths, with the details ebbing and flowing with whoever told the tale.

For our purposes the bottom line is this: “Black Joe” and “Aunt Creese” were real people, who owned a real inn, and really were well known and loved across the island of Marblehead, Massachusetts. Lucretia Brown really did invent and popularize the cookie now known as Joe Froggers. Joe Froggers really did become a “thing” both during and after their lives, traveling around the world on the Bay State and American Navy fleets. And they remain a “thing” across eastern Massachusetts even now, in the 2020s.

Many cities around the country have “their” cookie. This is the one belonging to Boston – complete with the inevitable carping about how Boston undeservingly managed to absorb all of maritime New England under its umbrella. You’ll make a friend if you acknowledge that injustice to a native of Marblehood, Lynn, Gloucester, or the other seafaring centers of the era. Just acknowledging their claim will make a difference. And Bostonians won’t care in the slightest. It’s all Greater Boston from their point of view. They’re city folk.

An Aside (Sort Of) – The Great Molasses Flood Of 1919

I spent a few hours walking Pittsburgh’s Strip District in search of enough testers to keep us from devouring dozens of these huge cookies on our own. It was a real danger! We each accounted for at least half a dozen when the other wasn’t looking because they are heartbreakingly moreish. The molasses flood must have come up in conversation close to ten times.

It has no direct connection to Joe Froggers beyond “Massachusetts” and “Molasses,” but it’s one of those fascinating events that everyone’s heard about but never remembers until prompted. And then they remember how much they love the story in a guilty kind of way. 20 people drowned in molasses?! The smell lingering on summer days for decades?! Massive and enduring changes to building codes across the nation? Baking ingredients shutting down a city?! Wow.

This goes to a link from the city website Boston.gov if you want to refresh your memory. Here is a fun Wikipedia link that tells the story better, albeit with less authority.

Notes For Fellow Bakers

  • The rum adds an interesting note you don’t really taste unless you know it’s there. But it does matter. First, because it’s a part of the history, and that’s part of what makes this cookie so fun. But also because the rum rounds out the spices to create a whole that isn’t quite gingerbread, and isn’t quite ginger snap, but something unique within the family.
  • Rum extract should work just fine, though we haven’t tried it. We used Gosling’s Black Seal Bermuda Dark Rum because we also keep around the house just for drinking. Good stuff!
  • The fat makes a difference because you can taste it in the final product. Lard and shortening add something to the texture, however, which is why we recommend a 50/50 mix of butter to other. But it’s truly up to you.
  • Purely by chance, I happened to use up my old jar of molasses while making a test recipe. That jar became the perfect vehicle for combining the (topped off) cup of molasses with the hot water and rum. Put it all in the jar, screw down the lid, and shake until it’s all smooth and liquid.
  • This is a really, really sticky dough that’s just over the line from being a batter AFTER it cools and sets in the fridge. Account for that as you get the dough mixed. You want just enough flour to reach that point. Any more will start to toughen the cookies. Remember: you can always mix in more, but cannot take any out.
  • Some recipes will merely sprinkle the pre-baked balls with sugar, but we ended up rolling them simply to make the sticky dough balls easier to handle. This is why we removed 1-2 tablespoons of sugar (⅓ oz = 10 g) from full 1 cup usually listed for the dough.
  • You want to press the balls down to keep them from rolling, but there’s no need to really squish them. The dough will spread all on its own.
  • Speaking of which, a golf ball sized sphere is really big compared to what you probably make with other recipes. That is the minimum size for true Joe Froggers. They’re supposed to be big enough that children will gape in awe at the wealth. Skimp if you must, but please do it on purpose because regular sized cookies don’t leave the same emotions in their wake. We fit only four cookies per standard baking tray, with six slightly smaller ones on the final tray because that’s what was left in the bowl.
  • Adding the flour and liquid in stages works best. Everything gets smoothly and evenly incorporated. But it isn’t essential unless you’re working by hand.
  • This is a no-eggs recipe. That isn’t a typo. It’s a feature, not a flaw.

Enjoy!

SWEDISH OATMEAL THINS (“HAVREFLARN”), A Year-Round Recipe

A perfect year-round, super fast cookie for all ages and tastes.

It’s funny how the simplest cookies can be the ones that drive you batty. Scott’s been trying to nail down Tuiles for so long that it’s become a family joke. Oatmeal wafers have been another bane. Until now. These aren’t thin enough to call a proper “wafer” – hence the name “thins” – but they are simple, easy to play with, and utterly delicious. A true year-round cookie rather than something fancy for the holidays.

Click here to see the recipe without the discussion

There isn’t a whole lot more to say beyond “make this cookie, and make it often.” Oat Thins are a classic, relatively bulletproof treat from Scandinavia that is more equivalent to an everyday Chocolate Chip Cookie than any of the fancier Christmas treats.

It’s nailed. Enjoy.

NOTE FROM KATE: I had nothing to do with the baking of this cookie…but I played with the chocolate. The neatest way is to load your melted chocolate into a pastry bag, snip off the tip so you get a thin stream, and make parallel lines across the entire sheet at once. Then stripe them sideways to form the diamonds. To easily make sandwiches, snip the bag opening a little larger, squirt, and squish. As much as I like these with chocolate, I absolutely adore the hit of buttery flavors when these cookies are still slightly warm and pliable!

The most interesting part came when Scott broke the recipe down to put in one of his all-cookie ratio tables. Would you believe that Swedish Oatmeal Thins turn out to be all but identical to our recipe for the deep south’s famous recipe for Benne a/k/a Sesame Wafers? Talk about parallel development!

We’ve now tested the cookies plain, drizzled with chocolate, and sandwiched into a serious, four-bite, chocolate oatmeal sandwich. Every one of those was fantastic. A ten out of ten for good, old fashioned yumminess. The texture is crisp, and stays that way. The flavor has that irresistible caramel/vanilla/oatmeal essence we’ve searched for over the years. And both of those features stay that way over time. What more could you want?

As for ease… wow. This is one of the fastest and simplest cookies we’ve ever come across. No exaggeration: Scott decided to race the clock for our final test batch. He put the oven on to preheat toward 350°, and then hurried to put the dough together and set up the trays.

Ready… set… go. Melt butter; measure out the dry ingredients; stir in the butter; and then stir in the vanilla and egg. Dough done, oven at only 275°. Form balls of dough, array on the trays, and… oven at 337°. The cookies were ready to bake before the oven could finish preheating!

That, my friends, is a cookie that comes together fast. Dump, stir, scoop with a spoon, form into balls, and bake.

Enjoy!

HAZELNUT DROP COOKIES, Simple, Sleek, Elegant, and Awesome

Simple, sleek, hazelnutty perfection

Imagine the esthetic behind Danish Modern furniture: minimal, sleek, efficient, elegant, useful, classically beautiful, and easy to customize. Now take that esthetic and design a cookie to match. We’ve got you covered.

Click here for the recipe without the discussion

Minimalist: Six ingredients: nuts, butter, sugar, salt, an egg, and baking powder. No more, no less.

Sleek and Efficient: Beat it all together, divide into balls, and bake. There’s no flour to hydrate, and thus no actual need to chill in advance (though I will admit it makes the dough less sticky).

Elegant: How about we kick up the baking temperature to ensure a golden brown, extra-toasty bottom that enhances the basic nut flavor? Clever! And let’s add just enough baking powder to keep the cookie from ever feeling dense or pasty.

Useful: Unexpected guests? Need a moment of self-reward? I’ve yet to meet a cookie that freezes better, and they’re delicious right out of the chill chest.

Classically Beautiful: This is the girl next door of Cookieville, and you wouldn’t be reading this if you didn’t love the type.

Easy to Customize: Want your cookie textured and noshable? Done. Use ground nuts, and remember to bar your door against the likes of my wife. Want something firm but soft, like a shoulder to rest on? Grate the nuts to meal, and do not bar your door because I may be dropping by for a surprise inspection. Want to go all out, and make something that melts on the tongue like almost-liquid flavor? Pulse the grated meal all the way down to flour. Or play with a different nut. Or a mix of nuts. Or… You get the idea.

(A NOTE FROM KATE: I would like to point out that aside from being naturally gluten-free, this cookie is, with the exception of sugar, a “whole food.” Nuts are good for you, eggs are good for you… and why say no to just a bit of sugar? In fact, I predict that cookies such as these will become a new health food trend!)

NOTES ON PROCESS AND PROCEDURE

There isn’t much to say. This really is as simple as it sounds.

(NOTE FROM KATE: To be fair, I did find that the pre-roasted hazelnuts were just a bit too hard for the rotary grinder. Husband + food processor = easy solution.

Do I really need to roast the nuts…? For heaven’s sake, most stores sell them pre-roasted! But if you bought fresh, unroasted nuts, the answer is yes. Roasting develops the hazelnut flavor, which is what you’re after in the first place. Cookies made with raw nuts will work just fine, but the same can be said of furniture no one’s bothered to varnish.

“I’m so confused? Where do I get ground nuts? Or hazelnut meal? Or hazelnut flour? Who carries that?” [Sigh] Start with whole nuts. Then:

  • For ground, put them in a food processor and pulse until you arrive at rough, finely pebbled, ground-nut sand; i.e., the stage right before they start to turn into nut butter. Remember to scrape the sides of the food processor bowl as you go in order to (a) release any fine particles, and (b) check see if you are getting too close to the nut-butter stage.
  • For nut meal, pull out a rotary grater with a middle-fine wheel. Put the nuts in and proceed until you have a light and fluffy meal. Food process coarsely if you need to break down the whole nuts first.
  • For nut flour, pulse the grated nut-meal a few times in the food processor.

Besides, this ability to customize is part of the fun! Some recipes have no room for wiggle. This recipe has wiggle room built into its bones, which is nothing but a plus if your family is anything like ours.

Kate has a strong preference for using ground nuts. She considers that the purest example of what hazelnuts really are, and a nice change from all the shortbreads of the world that melt in the mouth without thought. Yours truly is a softaholic. “Melt in the mouth” is a good thing for me, though I will grant that this cookie benefits from the rustic appeal of nut meal rather than whole scale flour.

In a pastry shop, for elegant tea time nibbles? Okay, now we’re back to proper nut flour, probably with each cookie halved in size for the sake of proper, lace linen daintiness.

You cannot lose. It’s all about how you choose to win on this particular day, for this particular situation. Asset, not hurdle.

(NOTE FROM KATE: I enjoyed the coarser texture of the machine-ground nuts for its rustic appeal. They look good, and the one hazelnut reserved for the top is very cute, albeit a bit fussy to position nose-up. I admit, however, that fine-textured hazelnut drops would be just as lovely, yet… slightly different.

Here is some good tricks to keep in mind:

  • We don’t use cookie scoops (not enough room in the drawers), so I like to weigh a few dough balls until I have the size right. It keeps a consistent result every time.
  • When forming, give each ball a gentle squish with the heel of your hand to prevent rolling, and garnish with one hazelnut each. These nuts have a pointy “nose,” which I like to aim in the same direction every time.
  • If you want a fine nut meal, start with raw nuts, then toast the flour on a cookie sheet in the oven at 400 degrees Fahrenheit for 4 minutes. Pull out, stir gently, then toast for another few minutes until its scent JUST begins to develop.
  • Unroasted nuts blanch better, so you will have tidier nut toppers. I tried blanching store-bought roasted nuts and almonds, but to my surprise, the skins wouldn’t slip off!

The big note from Scott? At some point you are going to make the dough and then wonder, “Maybe I should add in some vanilla, or spice, or a tough of extract…” You can, and it will be good, but do us a favor and try it straight up the first time. Lilies look best before they’re gilded.

In all honesty, I very seriously considered a preemptive addition of vanilla before our first test batch. After all, vanilla and hazelnut have a historic love affair, and the dough didn’t have as big a flavor hit as I imagined it would. She Who Must Be Heeded prevailed on me not to, and I’m glad to say she was right. The high temperature oven triggers a lot of browning on the bottoms, which adds the exact thing I had been missing.

CONCLUSION

These really are the Danish Modern of cookie baking. Minimal, sleek, efficient, elegant, easy to customize, and absolutely luscious. Plain old cookies just don’t get any better.

Enjoy!

SUSUMELLE, A Honey Cookie From The Toe Of Italy

Honey, orange, cinnamon, and clove in an ancient waybread cookie

After researching a few recipes from the Eastern shores of the Mediterranean, our attention turned toward an interesting Spanish/Portuguese cookie… only to be diverted again by this much loved Italian cookie from Calabria, the “toe” of Italy right across the straits from Sicily. It’s a fun recipe, in part because there really is no single recipe. Nor any two. Nor any three. It’s basically a fill-in-the-blank name for any cookie made with the classic, southern Italian flavor profile of honey, orange, cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg-or-mace, offset by a bitter element, which can be cocoa powder, a bitter chocolate coating, or some molasses in the dough (a “difference” that typically changes the name from Susumelle to Mostaccioli di Napoli).

Click Here If You Want The Recipe Without The Insight

Can Anyone Define The Term?

Susumelle vary much more than most cookies, ranging from dense and chewy, to light and crispy, and topped with either chocolate or a powdered sugar glaze. But there are a few constants that ought to catch your attention as much as they did ours:

  1. This is an ancient cookie with roots going back well into medieval times, and it seems to have some connection back to the culture of Greece. I don’t think anyone would be surprised if ancient Roman recipes turned up.
  2. The main sweetener is honey, which means they have a very, very long shelf life, and did not require the boost from Age of Exploration sugar crops that caused so many new cookies to be born from the 1500’s on.
  3. Most versions include neither eggs nor fat, which makes them much less tender than other cookies. We’re told that some versions are crunchy enough to use as teething biscuits for babies! [See the safety note at the bottom of this article] But this isn’t a rule. Some recipes do include eggs, and others have oil, though we’ve yet to find any with butter.
  4. Almost every version includes some orange in the dough; zest for sure and often juice, but this can vary off to liqueurs, water, or even wine. Orange and honey! That’s a winning combination every time! Especially when paired with…
  5. A healthy amount of cinnamon, a small touch of clove, and usually an equally small touch of nutmeg or mace. This combination is everywhere in what used to be called the Kingdom of Naples from the 1200’s into the 1800’s. Think “Italy south of Rome and the papal states.”
  6. A bitter counterpart to offset the sweet honey. Cocoa powder is extremely common, and the one used in this recipe. Regions nearer to Naples tend to use molasses instead, with a name change to “Mostaccioli.”
  7. Finally, Susumelle always get coated in something, but that can range from dark chocolate (the most common), to white chocolate, to a powdered sugar glaze, to simple powdered sugar (especially for unleavened versions).

After that you get to the endless variations. And I do mean endless. Hundreds of years of variation yield more differences than consistency. It gets even more confusing as you go back in time! According to this tourist website, back in the old days natives acknowledged three separate categories of Susumelle based on the type of flour: white flour for the wealthy, poverty flours like whole wheat and acorn for the commoners, and “a third called ‘del buon cammino,’ made with good ingredients and destined for priest and friars.”

Does The Name “Susumelle” Provide Any Clues?

Well… not really. First, the word itself means multiple things in modern Italy. If you say “un Susumelle,” you almost can’t be wrong. It means anything that fits the broad category of a dessert made with honey, cinnamon, and clove. If you say “real/proper/etc. Susumelle,” or just “Susumelle” with no adjective, it means either (a) the cookie that Grandma made, with yours and everyone else’s being an abomination, or (b) a commercial version totally unlike Grandma’s but nevertheless real because you can see it in a store.

That same tourist website offers two potential name origins. The first is a combination of the Greek words sesamum (sesame) and mel (honey), which makes more sense than you might think because Calabria is right on the ancient trade routes, and there is are extremely common Levantine and Greek cookie/biscuit recipes with that profile. The other theory also traces to Greek, but is based on the word “susumeda,” meaning food that had gone bad that was given to the poor as charity. It is a Christmas cookie after all…

But that’s not all. Another theory says the name has to do with a local word for ‘una carezz’ (a caress). And I’ve even seen websites and videos claiming the name comes from the often-traditional “S” shape.

Then there’s the eternal category, “all of the above.” When many names work, people love to make puns that can work from multiple directions. And then they love to argue about it even more… but that’s a whole other story.

Does that sound vague, maddening, and designed to make researchers “wrong” no matter what they do? Welcome to my world, friends. Welcome to my world.

Wait A Second… Isn’t This A Waybread?

Frustrated? Me? Heck yeah. But then I realized that this particular kind of frustration rang some bells.

Isn’t exactly the same thing true for Lebkuchen recipes in German-speaking countries? Indeed it is! And for Molasses Gingerbread recipes across Northern Europe? Y’know, that’s true too. Honeycakes/Honey-Gingerbreads in Central and Eastern Europe? A pattern emerges.

And aren’t all those cookies remarkably similar in the big picture, being ancient recipes made with lots of honey, a spice mix, and often a healthy portion of dried fruits and/or nuts? Aha! The penny drops. This is the Southern Italian honey based waybread cookie, with every bit as much variation as its northern cousins.

Time To Treat It As A Master Recipe

After breaking my brain with no less than seven (7!) test versions, I finally realized the problem. I was trying to use one name for at least four different cookies. For our purposes we can break them up into the following variations:

  1. Super hard, use-your-molars crispy examples. These typically have no additions to the basic dough except ground nuts, which only appear on occasion anyway. Molars-hard Susumelle usually include a moderate amount of the ancient leavening agent Hartshorn a/k/a Baker’s Ammonia, and are almost always (a) coated with chocolate, (b) shaped into “S” cookies, or (c) left uncoated for baby to teethe on.
  2. Hard, light, and crispy eating cookies formed into ropes for an “S” shape, or rolled to normal (around ¼”) thickness and then cut. This version has a lot of hartshorn, but baking powder works too because they cook until fully hardened. Nuts are almost required (powdered, chopped, or coarsely chopped), but may be replaced with sesame seed. Light-and-crispy Susumelle always get a chocolate coat, usually dark but also ranging through milk and down to white.
  3. A hard and crispy biscotti version. Take #2 and form it into a single rectangle. Bake for a long time (25 minutes is typical), and then slice into biscotti-shaped pieces. The pieces can be baked a second time, but many don’t bother.
  4. Moderately crispy eating cookies, which can be either hand formed or treated as an extra-thick (around ½”) roll-and-cut. The same as #2 yet again, but with something added to interrupt the texture. That ‘something’ usually includes (a) baking powder rather than hartshorn, supplemented by (b) chopped, candied fruit, (c) chopped, dried fruit, (d) coarsely chopped nuts, and/or (e) eggs or oil added into the dough. This version also requires a coating, but it can vary from any kind of chocolate all the way through any kind of powdered sugar glaze.
  5. Chewy waybread cookies comparable to Siennese Cavallucci. This version usually has little to no leavening, and is loaded with chopped fruit (candied or dried) and/or nuts. They’re also at least ½” thick, and large enough to be 3-4 bites each. Look for (a) large, roll-and-cut ovals, (b) hand formed egg shapes that settle into ovals inside the oven, or (c) thick ropes formed into an “S” shape. All three shapes are always served with powdered sugar on top.
Option 2 – Light and crispy, with walnuts
Option 5 – Unleavened, with nuts and candied fruit

A Rose By Any Other Name

We published a basic version of a cookie called Mostaccioli in Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World Volume 1. It’s a straightforward combination of chocolate and clove.

The research for this cookie shows that Mostaccioli is actually a broader category than we thought, and amounts to the slightly-more-northern version of Susumelle common in Campania (the shin) and Apulia (the heel) rather than Calabria (the toe) or Sicily (the stone being kicked). You can convert Susumelle to Mostaccioli by reducing the amount of honey, increasing the amount of sugar to compensate, and adding a significant portion of molasses and/or chocolate into the dough as a bitter counter-element. After that it’s the same orange/cinnamon/clove/nutmeg core, with infinite variations. [NOTE FROM SCOTT: I should probably work on a revised version of that recipe…]

Then there’s a third cookie, or more properly a Not Quite A Cookie, called Rame di Napoli; an extra-thick chocolate cake batter with the same basic flavor profile. These get baked in egg-sized mounds, coated in dark chocolate, and sprinkled with chopped pistachios. It’s a specialty of the city itself (Naples), and baked for Italy’s version of Halloween. If you’re interested, the word “rame” means “copper,” and the “cookie” is supposed to resemble an old Neapolitan copper coin. The pistachios represent green oxidation.

NOTE FROM KATE: when Scott develops a recipe, we can generally agree the point at which I can reserve cookies for the photo shoot. This time, the cookies kept arriving. I did enrobe a few of them in chocolate, but I never took photos. Too many variations, and too many baking variables, kept tripping up our decision-making process and every time Scott consulted either blogs or people, more local variations came out of the woodwork!

Now that he has his several varieties sussed out, it’s time to set up a project chart. Variety names, leavening status, textural additions, spice combinations, textures, glazes, shapes. Phylogenetically speaking, it’s as though Sussumelle was a cookie genus, and all these varieties were separate species. I care about the shapes and the glazes more than he does. As our mycologist friends like to insist, species concepts really work better when they are morphologically distinct.

CONCLUSION

Our recipes tend to focus on cookies with a story. Susumelle turned out to be a saga. Batch, after batch, after batch, trying to find the essence beneath all the recipes. We’ve rarely worked on a more frustrating project, until the penny finally dropped and we realized that something close to half a dozen different cookies all go by the same name, with only the main ingredients (honey, cocoa, cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg) as the unifying principle. That may sound mad at first, but only until you realize that much the same holds true for the similarly ancient honey-and-spice waybreads in Central and Northern Europe. Time and popularity equal endless variations.

Which is our personal favorite? Kate can vote for herself, and none are bad, but mine would be the one with no leavening at all, and all those beautiful bits and bobs inside. It’s a Lebkuchen or Honeycake done Southern Style, with a delicious flavor palate unique to these particular regions.

Of course, that opinion might change if we still had teething babies around!

A NOTE ON FEEDING HONEY TO BABIES: The bottom line is this: don’t. Honey harbors a bacteria called “Clostridium” that can on rare occasions cause infant botulism. Bad juju! The risk diminishes as the infant grows, becoming less dangerous around 6 months, safer still after 9 months, and more or less safe after 12; at least according to Doctor Internet. Babies usually start to teeth around 6 months, though some start earlier.

Susumelle recipes cook the honey and the sugar, which you’d think would reduce the risk, but it doesn’t eliminate it. So tradition be damned. Follow your doctor’s advice. The fact that people with no concept of germ theory almost always got away with the risks does not make it the smart thing to do. Do you really want to be the exception?

NOTE FROM KATE: look up the USDA guidelines for killing Clostridium botulinum, compare the temperature and time requirements, and let your comfort level be your guide. Now look up sugar, carb, and oral health guidelines for young children. Seriously dude, teething on hard biscuits is a dentist’s nightmare! The whole idea reminds me of a “teething remedy” my grandmothers used to employ: unripe poppy seeds simmered in sweetened milk, and then used as a soaking liquid for soft bread wrapped in a handkerchief and tied off with string. “It helps the babies slept better,” they both said, “but don’t use it all the time. Poppy makes kids stupid, so it’s a last-resort option.”

CENTRAL AMERICAN CORN DONUT COOKIES (“Rosquillas de Maiz”)

A staple cookie from Nicaragua and Honduras that acts like a Central American equivalent to Italian Biscotti.

Some countries use more corn than wheat flour as their staff of life, and in those lands you have to expect corn based desserts. Enter Rosquillas de Maiz, a crunchy, mildly sweet cookie meant to accompany a cup of coffee, tea, a drink, or even a fruity dessert soup.

A word to the wise: the word “rosquillas” describes the shape, not the dish, and can include a variety of recipes that can range from our common fried donuts, through ring-shaped breads, tender shortbreads, and in this case, barely-sweet cookies. A native speaker is bound to complain if you use that word alone, just as Norteamericanos would complain if you handed over a bowl of ring shaped breads and called them donuts. Use the adjective, though, and you’re fine. Rosquillas de Maiz means “corn donuts,” and Rosquillas de Nicaragua/Honduras means “donuts from this country.”

NOTE FROM KATE: If this pattern continues, we will never be done testing cookies! What a terrible fate, right? Every time we think our short list got trimmed down to “just a few more,” this happens. Every. Single. Time. However, I have no regrets. This little cookie is easy to make, fun to shape, and expands the repertoire in an entirely unexpected direction! One note of caution: If you toast your corn flour, make sure the flour is cold before you add your leavening agents, especially if you are using hartshorn. (I poured my toasted corn flour into a steel bowl and let it cool in the freezer, for patient I am not.)

Click here if you only want the recipe without its context

An Origin Story For Cookie Sleuths Everywhere

We often get asked “Where do you find all these?!” My best answer is, “They are there waiting to be found if you just take the time to look, and to ask.” This cookie is a case in point.

Kate and I are in the final month of intensive recipe testing before attention turns to getting Volume 2 ready for publication. Sweet Wine Cookies, a ring-shaped treat common from Portugal, Spain, and Italy has been high on our list for some time now. I mean, come on: everybody cooks with wine in their soups and sauces, so it makes total sense that wine growing regions would use their excess wine in baking too. Wine based desserts aren’t exactly rare. Nor are wine based flavors in cakes. Haven’t you come across some version of Champagne Buttercream Frosting for cakes, cupcakes, Macarons, or eclairs? If you haven’t, you’re welcome; that’s good stuff!

I looked around and, sure enough, the wine growing regions in Southern Europe have just such a treat. So I worked up a test recipe, got to where we liked it, and then went searching for native Spaniards to tell me what I needed to tweak. But there I ran into a problem. Our fallback testers include several native Italians (who gave it a big thumbs up), but Spaniards are thin on the ground in Pittsburgh and our Portuguese friend has retired. Thus I wandered into Reyna Foods, a Latin-products grocery store in the Strip District that we have patronized loyally for decades. There’s a lady there who also likes to supply her friends and neighbors with holiday cookies; Latin America was part of the Spanish Empire; and so I hoped that Rosquillas de Vino might have found a sideways path into her repertoire.

No such luck. But there was a lady from Nicaragua in the back who’s reputed to be a fine baker, and her ears perked right up at the word Rosquillas. She doesn’t speak much English, but a coworker agreed to translate my request for feedback.

Her eyes crinkled up in suspicion when I opened the tin of powdered rings. She picked one up with obvious hesitation, gave it a little nibble, and made a face so universal it needs no translation. “No, no, no. No bueno.” It wasn’t quite a blecch! because she didn’t mind the flavor per se, but she was quite firm that these were not the Rosquillas she grew up with. Not even close. Mine were sweet, tender, and had a uniquely wine-tinged aroma. No bueno. Nicaraguan Rosquillas were supposed to barely sweet, very crunchy, and [ahem] untainted.

Then she pulled out her phone, did a quick search, and showed me a photo. Plain, golden rings. “Estas. Estas son Rosquillas.” I scrolled up and saw the title: Rosquillas de Maiz. Wait a second. Maiz? As in “maize?” I.e., corn?

[Pause for translation]. “Of course it is. Rosquillas are made with masa a/k/a corn flour.”

And thus the penny dropped. The basic idea of ring-shaped cookies had indeed traveled the length and breadth of Spain’s former dominion, but not the Spanish recipe. People in the Americas had taken the idea and made it their own.

I looked things up as soon as I got home, and found quite a few examples from Nicaragua and Honduras in particular. It’s a pretty straightforward recipe with a few twists.

Twist #1 – The Basic Formula and Target Result

Research for this cookie quickly ran into a problem: the details were all over the place. Some called for lard (pig fat), some called for tallow (beef fat), some called for butter. Some were leavened, others unleavened. Some had sugar added, some didn’t. Etc. Fortunately, it’s a problem we’ve faced before and we knew what it meant.

This is a peasant recipe enjoyed by the whole society, not a well defined restaurant dish. That means the overarching instruction goes like this: “Use what you have on hand, so long as you keep the basics in place, and achieve the right result.”

Here are those basics, as measured by weight:

  • 3 parts finely ground cornmeal (masa harina),
  • 3 parts hard, grated farmer’s cheese (queso seco),
  • 1 part fat,
  • an egg to bind it together, and
  • baking time at 350° F (175° C) to get them browned, followed by more baking at 200° F (93° C) to get them completely dry and crunchy.

And here is the target:

  • Nicaraguan Corn Donut Cookies serve the same function as Italian Biscotti: they’re a not-quite-a-cookie intended to accompany coffee, tea, an alcoholic beverage, or a fruity dessert soup. Make that, and you’ve made Rosquillas de Maiz.

Everything after that comes down to refining and perfecting each point.

Baking With Corn Flour And Meal – You May Want To Toast It In A Pan

Central Americans have fresh masa harina on hand, every day and everywhere, waiting to be used. If you’re like us, you probably have a bag of masa tucked away in the back of your pantry, sealed as well as possible to keep out the moths. “Fresh” it is not.

There is an easy solution. Put your somewhat stale corn product into a dry pan over medium heat, and cook it until you can smell the corn flavor rising up. Presto. Ready to go.

That trick may work for fresh masa harina too, but it isn’t in the original recipes. On the other hand, it isn’t all that outside of the recipes either. Spain and its cultural heirs make a series of cookies like Polvorones that are built on a combination of toasted wheat flour and a healthy amount of butter and/or lard. This fits right into that tradition.

The Cheese

Most cultures with a European heritage make a variety of fresh cheeses known by different names around the globe. Quark, tvorog, topfen, etc. They typically come in two basic varieties, wet and hard, and have a mild, creamy flavor. The closest American equivalents would be something like cottage cheese mixed with ricotta, and then drained in cheesecloth until you get the desired texture.

For this recipe you want the driest version of that cheese you can find, grated down to as fine as you can get it. We used tvorog from a local Polish store, drained in a sieve before weighing it out. It’s probably not ideal, but remember that basic instruction up above. It’s peasant food. Use what you have on hand, so long as you keep the basics in place, and achieve the right result.

NOTE: If you only have access to something as wet as cottage cheese, wring it out well before weighing, and then you’ll be fine. The darned cookies get dried at the end of the recipe anyway, and there’s no gluten to develop because they’re made with corn rather than wheat.

The Fat

As noted above, the authentic recipes vary from all butter through all lard, to a mix of butter, lard, and tallow. That isn’t odd for Spanish-heritage cookies. Again, see Polvorones and their U.S. relative Biscochitos. Use what you have on hand. Our favorite was a mix of butter and lard, but it doesn’t really matter from a “heritage” point of view.

This can be a dry dough. Drizzle in water (or extra fat) a teaspoon at a time as needed to make it just hold together as a dough. Remember that it will tend to moisten throughout as it rests, and the dry corn grains moisten up.

The Sugar Content

Authentic recipes varied from no added sugar at all to a small amount (from the perspective of a U.S. sweet tooth). The target is something that will taste like corn in your personal opinion. Season to taste, as they say.

Some recipes also call for obscure (to us) products like loaf sugar. Nicaragua and Honduras are major production centers for sugar cane, and such niceties probably matter to those who live there every bit as much as green peppers versus red peppers do for us, or Apple A versus Apple B. With all due respect, and subject to one exception, it doesn’t matter to you and me. U.S. brown sugar comes from sugar cane, with some of the byproducts (a/k/a molasses) mixed back in. The result should be identical once it dissolves into a cookie dough.

The exception? There is a Rosquillas variation that uses no sugar at all in the dough, but decorates the top of the cookie with sugar shavings from the aforementioned loaf. Consider that an Internet Bonus, because it isn’t in our written recipe. That’s a case where only true loaf sugar will do, because the texture simply can’t be duplicated.

To Salt Or Not To Salt?

That’s simple. Salt. No, it isn’t in the most authentic recipes. But we’ve found that every single baked good we’ve ever tried will taste a little better if you use an invisible pinch or two of salt.

The Leavening Agent

We call for baker’s ammonia if you have it, and there was one recipe I found that incorporated this antique leavening agent. Others use baking powder, with a healthy percentage calling for nothing.

So why did we specify the more obscure one? It comes down to the target. All biscotti are crunchy and dry, but we’ve eaten a lot of them over the years and have come to appreciate the distinction between (i) hard, which is unpleasant until you’re initiated into the cult, (ii) crunchy, which amounts to the introductory level for people not yet beaten into submission; and (iii) crispy, a rarely achieved state of perfection that catches the essence of hard without the dental ramifications of crunchy.

Unleavened Nicaraguan Rosquillas are hard. They’re still okay because we have molars for a reason, and you’re supposed to dip the darned things anyway, but in our opinion one ought to do better. Nicaraguan Rosquillas made with baking powder are crunchy. That’s what a native of the region will expect.

Nicaraguan Rosquillas made with hartshorn a/k/a baker’s ammonia are light and crispy, which made our native tester down at Reyna’s raise an eyebrow with delight. For what it’s worth, I also brought a version made with baking powder only, and that was considered good, but not as good as the lighter and crispier variety.

NOTE: Here’s an Internet-only tip. Hartshorn is a little stronger than baking powder. You may want to increase the amount to a full 1 teaspoon if you use the more common leavening agent.

CONCLUSION

Nicaraguan Corn Donut Cookes (Rosquillas de Maiz) fell into our life by total surprise, and have quickly earned an enduring spot in our hearts. The aren’t a “favorite” per se, because we associate cookies with sweet, tender, dessert-like baked goods such as shortbreads and nut cookies. But that’s taste, not judgment, and these would definitely be in the running if we were making recipes along the lines of Biscotti, Mandelbrot, or even our recent forays into Greek Ladokouloura and Lebanese Yansoon Cookies.

The first two are crunchy, crispy, and nutty-sweet. The next two are crispy and spiced-sweet. Rosquillas de Maiz are crunchy, crispy, and corn-sweet. They fit right in as a peer to the others, and illustrate a special heritage that most of us could stand to know a lot more about.

NOTE FROM KATE: I really enjoy these, and the cheese adds an extra tang. Also, look at the proportions: doesn’t the recipe resemble “Real Food?” The guilt factor is cut by two-thirds at least when you nosh on a barely-sweet, high-protein Rosquillas de Maiz. They are absolutely lovely. Now as you all know, I struggle with fitting into my jeans in this cookie-rich environment. This round little cookie has me all excited, though. Some online recipes cut out all sugar and add a bit of parmesan to the farmer’s cheese. Interesting… I wonder how these would go over as an almost-savory, balanced treat with my afternoon cup of coffee? Try them and decide for yourself!

Enjoy!

CHINESE RESTAURANT ALMOND COOKIES, Now More Than A Century Old

Chinese immigrants in America, from a cookie’s point of view

You may have noticed that many Chinese restaurants in the U.S. have an out of place dessert tucked away on the menu: a peculiarly tender almond cookie. Research (a/k/a the 2020 Nom Wah Cookbook) shows an interesting history.

Click Here For The Recipe Without The Discussion

The oldest Chinese restaurant in New York, Nom Wah Tea Parlor, began in 1920 as a bakery focused on standard American fare like cakes, tarts, and of course cookies. These Almond Cookies were a popular creation of the Chinese immigrant owners. Matters changed because that little bakery had a sideline operation selling tea and various traditional savory snacks from Hong Kong; small plates that sparked the NYC love affair with Dim Sum. The sideline restaurant business swallowed up the bakery, and the rest is history. But this particular cookie was too popular to die! It may have stood out like an American sore thumb against all that traditional fare, but the customers insisted. They wanted all those little dumplings, noodle dishes, skewers, soups, and meats most of all… but they wanted Almond Cookies too. It survived every challenge.

Your customers insist!

Other restaurants ran into the same issue when they began to copy the Nom Wah success story. ‘In the know’ customers simply wouldn’t go if a Dim Sum restaurant wasn’t [ahem] authentic enough to include Chinese Almond Cookies on the menu. Never mind that the recipe had no Asian roots.

The cookie itself is a simple shortbread that uses lard instead of butter, a lot of almond extract, and an exceptional number of egg yolks. The proportions are pretty standard beyond that. It’s the history, texture, and flavor that make this cookie such a different, delightful, and (to certain Pavelle family females) indispensable treat.

“Melted” Means Melted

Kate, a long time aficionado of almond cookies, handled the testing on this one. It’s a very old and very well established recipe, so she only ran into two challenges.

First, a certain husband of hers who shall remain nameless, blameless, and in all ways sacrosanct, wrote “lard at room temperature” in the first version instead “melted lard cooled to room temperature.” This made the dough extremely stiff and hard to work with.

Consider yourself warned.

NOTE FROM KATE: Now that I have tried the melted method, the dough seems less “short” and easier to handle. Before, I had to add a teaspoon of water, thinking that our flour became extra dry over the winter. Surprisingly, the end product has the same, identical texture! The only catch: I found it best to let the lard melt ¾ of the way, and then take it off the heat as I prepared the other ingredients. It finished melting in the residual heat, and then cooled just enough to start solidifying again when I was ready to use it. The food processor will handle the solid bits – just make sure you don’t inadvertently cook the egg yolks that are already waiting! (Barely melted lard is warm to touch, but not hot.)

The cookie forming goes like this:

  1. Divide dough in half.
  2. Divide each half into 18 portions (I like to square up the dough using my bench scraper, then I eyeball the sections.)
  3. Roll each portion into a ball in your hands, press the almond into the center, and then squish lightly. Don’t worry about fixing small cracks, it will bake up nicely and the texture, highlighted by the yellow egg wash, is part of cookie’s appeal.

To Soda Or Not To Soda, That Is The Question

We decided to write this up as a doubled version of the recipe in the Nom Wah Cookbook. Those authors called for 1 tsp. each of baking soda and powder; i.e. 2 tsp. each for our version.

Kate tasted distinct baking soda notes in that formula, though Scott (who is much less sensitive to bitter flavors) was willing to give it a pass. So we tried a second version, with two teaspoons of cream of tartar to react with the baking soda byproduct. Those cookies still tasted a bit soapy to her extra sensitive palate, and were a bit too puffy for Scott – a fact which proved she was correct in tasting unreacted baking soda still in the dough.

Do you know that story about the recipe testers who met up with Goldilocks?

Four teaspoons of baking powder with no soda would have eliminated the soapiness for sure, but now we had to deal with the unwanted extra rise. And so we settled 3 tsp. of baking powder. Except… A certain angelic, blameless, and nameless husband pointed out that almond extract originally came from purifying bitter almonds to remove the cyanide. So maybe that baking soda flavor was actually a feature instead of a flaw? Was it possible that a certain recipe tester was being too sensitive? [NOTE TO SELF: Married men should know better than to use the words “too” and “[you-know-what]” in close proximity. Thank goodness the nameless and blameless husband at issue would never, ever make such a rookie mistake.]

NOTE FROM KATE: Scott may be onto something with that touch of bitter almonds. The batch below (3 tsp baking powder, 1 tsp baking soda) leavened about the same (the cookies puff up and deflate a bit with cooling.) A side-by-side taste test revealed that the “soapier” cookie is more authentic! It has that certain something. I like it toned down a bit, but not all the way. But now you have options and see how “soapy” a cookie you prefer.

Suffice it to say that we leave things up to you. It’s a matter of taste. Do you want the bitter edge? Or do you find it revolting enough to point fingers at your entirely innocent spouse, who only wrote down what the original authors required? Almond, or bitter almond? Tradition, or improved?

There’s really no way to lose.

Enjoy!

BEEHIVE COOKIES (Včelí úly), A No-Bake Life Hack For Your Casualties

The best way we know to use up casualties from our holiday baking

Our collected work on Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World, both Volume 1 and the forthcoming Volume 2, can be traced back to the Czech tradition of Vánoční Cukroví: “Christmas Sweets.” Central and Norther Europe abounds with impressive holiday baking traditions, but no one takes it more seriously, or does a better job, than Czechs such as my beloved wife.

The thing is, when you make a lot of cookies, you also end up with a lot of casualties. There’s just no way around it. Beehive N0-Bakes may be the single best way of converting those casualties into something new. Who am I kidding? History contains a lot of ‘Oops!’ moments just to ensure the Beehives get made.

It starts with tiny plastic molds such as this one from the Czech manufacturer Tescoma:

It ends with this:

That picture pretty much says it all. (A) create a dough from leftover cookie crumbs, (b) press it into shape using the plastic form, (C) poke in a hole using the provided stamp, or the handle of a wooden spoon, (D) fill said hole with a stiff, rum-heavy buttercream, and then (E) cover the bottom with a small, round cookie like commercial vanilla wafers.

Quick, easy, fun for children of all ages, and requiring no mandatory baking unless you choose to make a superior buttercream. Or wish to make your own wafers, of course.

Click here if you only want the recipe without the discussion

Part 1 – Ready The Shell

This is the magic part, and it couldn’t be any easier. Start with your leftover cookie crumbs. Mix in finely ground nuts, a small amount of powdered sugar, and egg white(s) as needed to bind it all together. Most people also add in a bit of rum (or extract) and cocoa powder to round things out, but that can vary with both personal taste and the nature of your casualty crumbs. You can also add spices, depending on the nature of your crumbs. Ground up gingerbread cookies obviously have a different vibe than ground up butter cookies.

NOTE FROM KATE: caution on the casualty cookies. Not all will make good candidates! We had some strongly flavored cocoa bear paws that got recycled into Beehives, and I thought there was a bit much going on. I would’ve preferred a more neutral backdrop to the smooth and delicious filling. If we make them again from the same cookies I will vary from the recipe to accomodate.

Regarding the overall impression, I prefer walls as thin as possible, with a liquidy eggyolk cream filling for contrast. But those would soak the Nilla cookie base over time…so if you’re making a whole bunch, a buttercream might be a longer-lasting option. Due to their egg content, we store Beehives in the refrigerator until serving time.

The only place it could go wrong is the proportions. Sometimes the cookie crumbs will be drier, sometimes wetter, etc. The answer is simple: remember your target. You want a standard, slightly sticky cookie texture. Start with something on the wet side and then add crumbs as needed to get there.

Part 2 – Ready The Filling

This is just as easy even though the recipes can vary drastically from house to house. You are after a rich, thick but not solid filling full of extra rum flavor. How you get there is up to you. The filling texture can vary from thick and boozy liquid eggnog to a firmer, properly flavored buttercream.

Kate’s prefers a cheater-buttercream on the theory, “If you are going to make a life hack recipe out of leftover crumbs, why not make a shortcut buttercream?”

  1. Make an extra-thick, store bought vanilla pudding by using only half the designated amount of liquid.
  2. Finish by whipping in dark rum and/or rum extract to taste.

I prefer to start from a modified pastry cream, otherwise known as a Swiss meringue method using yolks instead of whites:

  1. Whip the leftover egg yolks with some sugar over a hot water bath until thick and foamy.
  2. Remove it from the heat and whip in softened butter piece by piece, waiting each time until the last piece has been fully incorporated.
  3. Finish by whipping in dark rum and/or rum extract to taste.

The third approach is a French Buttercream, otherwise known as an Italian meringue method using yolks instead of whites.:

  1. Whip the yolks off heat until thick and foamy.
  2. Slowly drizzle in a softball-stage sugar syrup (235°-240° F = 114°-115° C), whisking on “high” until the temperature drops back down.
  3. Finish by whipping in dark rum and/or extract to taste.

The Flavor Profile – Does It Need To Be Rum?

We’ve written before that Prague’s secret heart belongs to a combination of nuts, rum and mocha. This recipe has (let’s see…) nuts and cocoa powder in the crust, with rum in both crust and filling. No surprise there!

There is no rule requiring you to stick with that profile, any quick online search will reveal many variations, and you always need to adapt things if your cookie crumbs come from something that has a lot of character. But for plain beehives made from plain cookies, please consider mocha-rum as the home base. That’s what you’d find in the Czech Republic.

NOTE: 100% rum extract starts to taste a bit artificial. We like to mix dark rum and extract together in order to obtain an intense flavor that still has nuance. And a bit of booziness of course!

Part 3 – Construction

Press dough into your little beehive mold:

Finished cookies with an empty mold on the left, and
an unfilled one on the right

Poke a hole in the bottom using either the tool that came with your mold, or the handle of a wooden spoon.

Poke a hole inside

Fill the hole with filling.

Cover the hole with a small, round cookie. We typically use commercial vanilla wafers from the box.

Bottom on, and ready to be pushed free.

Unmold. One side of the mold will come free easily. Use the cookie on the bottom to help free the other.

Done!

Move your finished Beehive Cookies to the fridge, where they will keep well while the cold, dry air hardens the outer crust and makes them that much more cookie-ish.

Storage and Conclusion

No-Bake Beehive Cookies:

  • Turn casualties into capital;
  • Look amazing;
  • Have a distinct and often different flavor from everything else on your tray;
  • Taste delicious;
  • Are easy to customize (almost unavoidable);
  • Occupy a distinct part in an important baking culture; and
  • Are fairly easy to make.

Can someone please explain the downside?

okay, yes. You may have to put them into a mental “Not-Quite-A-Cookie” category. And yes, that can cause some family friction about where they belong in your forthcoming cookbook. But they’re good. That is the bottom line.

Ah, the burdens of life…

Enjoy!

LEBANESE ANISE (“YANSOON”) COOKIES, Crispy Tea Biscuits No One Can Resist

A delightful, aromatic, not-too-sweet cookie adored across the entire Middle East

This classic, crispy Middle Eastern tea cookie appears all over the levant, but those from Lebanon are acknowledged to as the best even in this famously competitive part of the baking world. So we set out with a question: what features make them so special, and how do they differ from all the other anise cookies that dominate the Mediterranean shores?

Click here if you only want the recipe without the lessons learned

We’ve recently discovered a whole category of Mediterranean cookies that:

  1. Rely on Hartshorn a/k/a baker’s ammonia as the leavening agent;
  2. Have oil or clarified butter in the dough rather than plain butter; and
  3. Have a dry, crispy, but well spiced flavor that pairs up perfectly with a cup of potent tea or coffee.

Ladokouloura are the Greek version. They feature olive oil, sesame, and orange. These Yansoon Cookies are all about the anise (“yansoon” = anise in Arabic) with sesame as the supporting note and a mysterious other lurking behind. Kate remains torn, but I like this one better.

NOTE FROM KATE: I love anise. My grandma used to make a low-butter type shortbread that had to age well before being served, and those were possibly my most favorite Christmas cookies. They never caught on with Scott. He fell in love with richer fare, so I never bothered making the “anyzky” just for myself. But maybe I should’ve, because this recipe has reminded me what I’ve been missing! These, too, are leaner than your standard butter cookies, but you won’t miss the fat because of their crispy texture. If anise is your jam, definitely give these a try!

What Do You Need For A Great Yansoon Cookie?

My research uncovered three main points:

  • Hartshorn a/k/a baker’s ammonia makes a major difference because it creates a unique texture that particularly suits cookies in this category (tea- and coffee biscuits intended for dunking.

Yes, there are online recipes that use baking powder instead, but the authors almost always say that with regret because it just isn’t the same. The baking powder versions lack that characteristic, next-level crispiness.

See that crisp, honeycomb inside? The magic of hartshorn
  • Vast amounts of anise, and a generous amount of sesame seeds.

Multiple tablespoons seemed like a lot, but testing proved they achieved a nice, balanced flavor – particularly with the mix both ground and whole anise.

NOTE FROM KATE: I believe the amount of air inside this cookie tends to dilute the flavor, which explains why even this level of spice won’t feel excessive.

  • Variation rules more than consistency after the sesame and anise, but every recipe includes a gentle touch of some aromatic extras to create roundness and nuance.

Which “extras” work best? Sorry folks, but that is the sort of question that generates outright feuds among proud grandmas across the region. I’ve been married for long enough to keep my nose faaaaar away from that kind of debate! Besides, it doesn’t seem to really matter so long as they amount to just an evocative murmur in the background.

Our recipe includes 10 separate ideas for mixing-and-matching, but in the end it’s the sort of thing you should customize to taste.

NOTE FROM KATE: Don’t be afraid of “weird” spices. When I was making my test batch, I opted for a slightly savory take on this cookie: All the anise and lemon oil, but also black caraway (nigella) and cumin. The latter two gave the cookie an earthier, slightly savory vibe. It’s my favorite combination so far. Who knows what you will discover?

Any Shape Will Do

In the end we liked the simpler shapes best. The sticks were amazingly snackable. The rings are just so classic. And others work too if you want to get fancy.

An early test with complicated shapes (and no nigella seed)

The Testing

This recipe involved a huge amount of online research, but our initial recipe was almost dead on point. Testing provoked only one real change: my first effort split the leavening agent 50/50 between hartshorn and baking powder. It was good – very good! – but Kate and I agreed that hartshorn alone worked even better because it creates a more pleasant and crispier texture.

FWIW, the Extra Touch Flavors in that first effort were ⅛ tsp. of orange oil, ⅛ tsp. of lemon oil, and ½ tsp. each of almond and vanilla extract. Why those? I had no citrus on hand for zesting (hence the oils), and no mahlab on hand for roundness (hence the extracts). Native testers confirmed both authenticity and delectability… though Grandma’s were of course said to be better.

Kate went savory with our next batch by adding a 1 tablespoon of nigella seed and ½ tsp. of cumin. The cookies tasted good, but were far too savory, and the main flavors got buried. The updated recipe reduces those amounts to 1 tsp. and ⅛ tsp. respectively. Remember: background hints and murmurs.

The Sugar Level

Read the recipe carefully and you will note a surprisingly low amount of sugar. It’s not a typo, and in fact it is typical of the region. Sweetness gradually increases as you travel from Lebanon up to Greece, increases more as you go west over to southern Italy, and then goes up yet again as you enter into the Italian mountains. It’s a matter of regional taste as much as anything else.

But there’s an added factor for Yansoon Cookies. Think about it: doesn’t anise have a sweet note to go along with its aromatics? Just like citrus flavors, almond flavors, and vanilla? Lebanese bakers acknowledge this by cutting back on the sugar in favor of those more ephemeral equivalents. Trust me on this one. Lebanese Yansoon Cookies are supposed to have relatively little sugar compared to other treats. Don’t mess with this aspect until you have made them as intended. After that it’s baker’s choice.

Brown on top, or brown on the bottom, there must be brown
Crispy, toasty, anise & sesame goodness

Bake Until Brown

The cookie crisps up nicely in 15 minutes, but we liked them better with a bit of browning on top. That meant 17-20, which left them a little too dark on the bottoms. We plan to bake future batches on a silicone mat instead of parchment, or with doubled sheet pans to provide some insulation.

Spinning the trays halfway through helps to prevent distinctive differences between top and bottom, and from side to side. We don’t usually bother, but this time it makes a difference.

A PHOTOGRAPHIC NOTE FROM KATE: One rule of food photography is to never look for the faces. Once you see a face in your photo, you cannot unsee it, and this will force you to change your whole setup. It can add hours of work. However, once you get done shooting your cookies, and just a few are left, and there’s a round, wooden plate, sometimes the cookies just insist. How could I not use this golden opportunity to have some fun? If you’re not having fun, you’re doing it wrong.

FUN FACT: Poor Scott expected me to AirDrop him a batch of cookbook-worthy Yansoon Cookie photos. I sent him a batch of cookie emojis first! (No worries, the more appropriate images soon followed.)

Conclusion

Kate and I both like anise in general, but neither of us would qualify as special enthusiasts. I feel the same about sesame (Kate is a bigger fan). And yet we couldn’t be any happier with this new recipe despite the copious use of both. Yansoon Cookies will feature prominently if we’re ever asked to cater a tea party, and won’t be rare in the household cookie jar at any time of the year.

Enjoy!