Category: TABLE OF CONTENTS CATEGORIES

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

BERGER COOKIES, Baltimore’s Worthy Passion

The great cookie of Baltimore

Certain cities around the U.S. have regional cookies that send expats into ecstasies of nostalgia when they come across it again. New York has Black & Whites; our native Pittsburgh has Kauffman Thumbprints; the deep south has Southern Tea Cookies; and Baltimore has this cookie, which was created in 1835 by the immigrant owners of Berger’s Cakes & Cookies.

Regional loyalty commands us to at least make a show of disdaining all things Baltimore, so we need to say this quietly. [*Hushed voice* It’s a darned good cookie.]

NOTE FROM KATE: When I feel like yanking Scott’s chain, I root for the Ravens. He knows that I’m not a hardcore football fan, but he falls for it like Charlie Brown regardless. The Baltimore Ravens are, in fact, a really good team. And these are, against my expectations, really good cookies!

Overview

Berger Cookies are easy to describe. Coat a dense, relatively plain, somewhat chewy shortbread with dense, fudgy frosting as deep as the cookie is thick. There you have it! A four-bite treat that sends children of all ages into rapturous sugar highs. Simple, right? It ended up being tougher than it seemed.

Scott compiled an initial test recipe based on a more than a dozen online versions, made it, and… Both of us immediately knew that something wasn’t right. The cookies were good, yes; but only that. They lacked that mysterious extra that could create a 200 year old cult following. We tinkered with a second batch, then a third, and then… Then we called for help from a Baltimore friend. “Could we bother you for a box of the real thing when we meet at next month’s foray?”The whole sorry tale appears down below, but that was the literal aha! moment. “So that’s what these are all about!”

We couldn’t have done it without you Sam!

This Recipe Is Nailed

Every almost-final test you’ll read about below got compared to actual, from-the-store Berger Cookies before we moved on. Where possible they also got tested by Baltimore natives for reality checks beyond our own palates. And then we went to the extra effort of nailing down two versions of the frosting, because online sources split evenly between those approaches.

You won’t find a better version because there isn’t one. This recipe is r.i.g.h.t.

ASIDE FROM SCOTT: The most recent test-by-native happened a few weeks ago at a meeting of our local mushroom club. A request went out for Baltimore natives to please see Scott, because he needed them for an experiment. A hand went hesitantly up, and I hurried over to grab her. A certain amount of caution filled her eyes. “I’m not in trouble, am I?”

I had to laugh. “Exactly the opposite. I just need you to confirm we’ve got this right.” I circled behind the ID table, reached down, and popped the lid on my test-cookie tin. Her eyes grew wide. “BERGER COOKIES!!”

She went from trepidation to glee in a nanosecond, and one of my samples appeared in her hand like a magic trick. Then she took a bite and the expression turned to rapture. “Hello?” I called. No answer. She just stood there, smiling gently like a child in a dream. ‘That’s a good sign,’ I thought. “Hello? Can I call these certified by a local expert?” Her eyes opened at last.

“Oh my god, yes. They’re perfect! I haven’t had a Berger Cookie since…” Two friends looked over her shoulder to ask what was going on. Three more cookies vanished from the tin as they walked away. “When we were kids these were the thing we all…”

She did share them, in case you were wondering. [Laughs] I’m telling you folks. Cookies have a magic like nothing else.

The Cookie Part

The base came together quicker than the frosting, which makes sense because it’s the velvet dais that puts the jewel on display. There were only a few notable features that required attention. First, the cookie base is quite plain, with a surprising amount of browning on the bottom. It also has some vanilla to accent that browning and it’s quite chewy, which distinguishes it from other 4-bite cookies like NYC Black & Whites.

The online recipes provided an admirable jumping-off point that only required a couple of fidgets. We eventually cut the baking powder in half, from 1 tsp. down to ½ tsp. (for more chew); and we increased the oven from 350 F (175 C) to 375 F (190 C), which increased the browning. All the real work went into that all-important layer of fudge on top.

NOTE FROM KATE: This dough handles best with slightly wet hands. Measure out your ball, roll gently, and then squish it onto the parchment. Start from around 1⅓ tablespoon per ball, and aim for around 1½” (4 cm) in diameter). It’s okay to have imperfect and lumpy-looking balls. To me that is a feature, not a bug! You’d almost think the cookies were made by a human and not generated by AI. Besides, those same lumps magically even out as the cookies bake in the oven.

Frosting, Frosting, Who’s Got The Frosting?

Iced on top, versus iced on the bottoms, because that’s what you do with NYC Black & Whites. Tops are correct. And yes, the icing is this thick!

NOTE FROM SCOTT: Apologies for the length, but we endured something of a saga filled with not-quite-there moments. I try to touch on each in case you find thm useful. Feel free to skim.

Berger Cookies feature a dense, sweet, and fudgy layer that matches perfectly the almost-chewy cookie base. Online research showed two very separate approaches to getting there. Half the bakers built off a dark, butter-based frosting, and half made a ganache built from chocolate chips melted in cream. The only one exception came from Serious Eats, a source for which we have great respect. They called for evaporated milk. We tried that too, but ended up thinking the more traditional approaches both worked fine.

The Butter-Based Frosting. Translating to bakerese, this approach can be summed up as follows: “Make a dark chocolate cake frosting with a few tweaks, and then…” Simple, right? Not so much.

Around half the online recipes called for maple syrup in the mix. That may sound odd, but our research on old fashioned sweeteners offered a perfect explanation. The original Mr. Berger would have been working with Piloncillo (a/k/a jaggery) in 1835, not modern white or brown sugar. The standard substitute for Piloncillo? You guessed it! A good hit of maple. We tried it, and it worked; especially when enhanced by some espresso powder to make chocolate taste bigger. NOTE FROM SCOTT: Old time bakers didn’t use the coffee trick. That’s why it’s only “recommended” in our final recipe. But trust us: you won’t regret it.

The only problem with frosting #1 came from the butter itself, which muddled the pure chocolate flavor we wanted. That led to experiments with shortening instead of butter (a bit artificial), and then a 50/50 mix of the two. Man oh man, was it delicious! But was it right? It didn’t quite match the cookie photos, and…

Oops. Insert drop-of-penny noise. Four versions in, and only now we realized that we had no real target to aim for? Aaargh! What a rookie blunder.

Insert that cry for help in the form of a box from the actual bakery. NOTE: Thanks again Sam.

Cue The Jeopardy Music, And… Two weeks later we got home from our trip with Sam’s box of genuine, store-bought Berger Cookies. Time to compare.

The good news? Our 50/50 frosting tasted exactly like the original. Yay! But the texture wasn’t close. We had a cake frosting, not the extra-thick icing on top of the real deal. But that texture did tell us where to go next. This was the kind of coating an industrial operation will heat to a precise temperature, and then pipe onto production line cookies as thick, oozy lava. Let it cool, et voilà! A dense, somewhat chewy layer of almost-fudge. Our frosting had to be more like a ganache.

Kate, the family chocolatier, suddenly began to see benefits to the idea of that alternate, chocolate chips in cream approach. She’s usually a stickler for quality chopped chocolate rather than commercial chips formulated to have a sturdier melting point. That flaw now turned into an asset. “The right proportion of cream to chocolate chips should harden to just the texture we want, with a lot less fuss.”

Chocolate Chips = Simple? Not So Much. We checked the online recipes for proportions, only to discover the chocolate-to-cream ratio wasn’t the only issue. The recipes were maddeningly far apart! Some had cocoa powder, others didn’t. Some called for maple syrup, others used corn syrup, and some called for both. The specified chips varied from semisweet, down to milk, and then back up to dark. It was so bad that Scott had to compile a table to normalize a full dozen recipes just so we could compare them on an even footing.

Which, thank heaven, yielded some patterns. Darker chips = less cocoa powder, and milk chocolate chips = lots of cocoa powder. Okay, that made sense. Target: dark & fudgy.

As for the syrup, lesson #1 was the fact that every recipe called for some kind of syrup in the first place. Crystallization and graininess must be a real problem! Warning taken. But which one should we choose? The maple recipes described it as an attempt to capture that old-fashioned flavor; perfectly sensible in light of our experience creating the frosting version. Corn syrup recipes all emphasized the need for shine; which was just as sensible because it’s better at reducing crystallization. You might think that leads to an obvious and less expensive compromise, but [insert cosmic buzzer!] Both groups fervently warned against using commercial pancake syrup. [Sigh] So much for the cheap and easy solution.

Our pantry had semisweet chips ready and waiting, so we put together a version using that as a midpoint approach. To this we added a moderate amount of cocoa powder for extra flavor, that ¼ tsp. of espresso powder to round it out, and a mix of both syrups. This yielded an almost-smooth icing that would have a perfect texture if we merely increased the corn syrup a bit. Kate did a second batch, and presto; texture nailed. She declared it done, but Scott demurred.

Yes, she had the right texture. But the butter-based frosting tasted noticeably better. And he had an idea for how to convert cake frosting into cookie-topping fudge. We could simply melt it down!

Melted Frosting? We still had a ton of the airy, butter- or shortening-based frosting. Three batches worth! It was far too tasty to toss, which creates a real problem in our house. We both suffer from a dire medical issue known as, “Just A Taste As I Go By Syndrome.” Heck, our daughters have complained the disease is so contagious they sometimes need to avoid the house! So we detoured back for Scott’s experiment.

He baked another batch of cookies, put some of the 50/50 frosting in a bowl, and popped it into the microwave for a single minute. The result? Effort #1 had bubbled and burned by the time our machine went ding. Doh. Effort #2: try the same thing with 15-second zaps. Still too rough. On to Effort #3: 15-second zaps at 30% power. This product sent Scott running in to the living room to share the good news. “This is pretty close to right. Just a little grainy. I’ll try a new batch from scratch, with melted butter and that corn syrup you added. What do you think about using coconut oil instead? Or maybe some of your carefully hoarded cocoa butter? The ingredients list on the package mentions palm oil…”

Delicious but grainy on the left; Melted and smooth on the right.

She Who Must Be Obeyed had reached the end of her rope. Kate erupted, “I am sick to death of this cookie! There will be one more batch, and only one more batch. Lives may be jeopardized if I have to sample any more than that! I’m on it. You, dear husband, shall get your sorry butt out of my way. And then you will say nice things when I’m done. Get it? Got it? Good.”

An innocent reply began to form, but up went the infamous Warning Finger of Doom; a digit already shaking with life threatening rage. “Take your new samples to the mushroom club meeting along with all those others polluting my waistline [ahem] countertops. Shoo. Out. What are you, deaf?”

NOTE FROM AN ANONYMOUS EDITOR: Scott did write a full and fair description of the scene, but those observations have been deleted wholesale in the name of marital harmony. Plus that gentle, kind hearted, generosity of soul for which he is so well known.

NOTE FROM KATE: I remind y’all that Scott is not only a superb cookie developer, but also an inspired writer of fiction. I shall forgive him for putting a more adventurous spin on my notoriously conflict-averse way of speaking. At least for now. These are good cookies and I have nothing against them.

Scott went off to the mushroom club, enjoyed that scene with the young lady from Baltimore, and came home to find a new, fully completed batch of Kate-made cookies. And a wife holding up a finger (index!) like a 10-year old with a boo boo. “I singed my finger dipping the cookies into the hot chocolate lava. Even worse, I broke off a few edges when it began to cool and thicken up. But I am calling this one done. There’s leftover frosting if you want it.”

Scott duly kissed the finger, and then re-melted the leftover topping. He applied it to the cookies with a spoon instead of dipping, which turned out to be a very good thing because Kate’s dipped-in layer had been thinner than she thought.

NOTE FROM KATE: I made frosting for my final batch by combining all the leftovers in a double-boiler with a scant quarter cup of chocolate chips, a drizzle of corn syrup, and a splash of cream to make up some missing volume. Then I stirred until it all came together. It worked just fine, proving the recipes are mutually compatible.

Kate’s cookies were so close to the store-bought version that everyone was happy. Almost.

Kate’s final batch, with remelted frosting spooned on top by Scott. Stare close and you can see a little of the graininess we fixed for the final recipe.

Obsessive Bakers Anonymous Should Open A Local Chapter.

Two weeks later the Warning Finger Of Doom had descended, and a pair of questions started to circle their way into family conversations. From Scott, needless to say. First, “I wonder what the temperature should be to get that topping exactly right?” And, “If we’re going to work with a hot coating anyway, why not do a test with that wonderful butter frosting I worked on so hard?”

Kate gave in a week or so later. “Fine. Go ahead and give it a try if you must. But the cookies are going to the dojo, and they *are not* going to stall in this house on their way out the door.”

Not an exclamation point in sight.

So a last and truly final batch went up, with every revision incorporated, additional research performed, and an instant read thermometer on hand. From that we learned the magic temperature for butter-based icing: 175° F (77-80° C). It’s too thick below that, and too thin above. The magic temperature for cream-and-chips ganache is lower, more like 105° F (40° C).

Best. Version. Yet.

Ultra chocolate icing; lots of it; with no graininess at all thanks to the combination of maple and corn syrup.

The Frosting Takeaways (By Kate)

Use a fat that hardens at room temperature. Either don’t add extra air or moisture, or heat the frosting afterward to remove them. As long as you don’t burn the chocolate, the process is quite forgiving.

Whether cake frosting or ganache based recipe, that dark stuff must be liquid, but thick. I once dipped the cookies while the frosting was still a bit hot, which resulted in that too-thin layer. However, once the frosting set, I reheated what was in the pot, and double-dipped them. That works just fine too. Scott reheated the leftovers later, and applied some extra to the rest of the single-dipped cookies with a spoon, occasionally shaping it with a spatula. I compared them to our last commercial cookie, and you cannot tell the two apart except for the spatula marks.

Taste-wise, I was surprised to prefer the chips-and-cream ganache. It’s so simple, and works at a safer temperature. Someday I’d like to experiment with darker chips and a little less cocoa powder. Most frostings are too sweet for my taste. The ones we developed are, however, true to the sweetness level of the commercial product. It is what it is.

And From Scott…

Both of the frosting approaches will work. I prefer the flavor of the butter-based version. It really is a coin toss call that comes down to taste. Which is why we’ve included instructions for both kinds of frosting in the recipe down below. Take your pick.

The biggest concern comes down to temperature control, and there’s no getting around it. Both versions must be applied when the icing is at that delicate stage between being so thin that you don’t get a proper layer, but not thick enough to require a spatula. The magic moment occurs when the icing looks like an extra-thick caramel sauce; at around 175° F (77° C) for butter-based icing, and 105° F (40° C) for cream-and-chips ganache. We recommend you work with the right temperature from the start, and then gently reheat as needed. Think ahead too. Since you will need to reheat, ice the cookies on a screen placed over parchment paper. Then you can recycle any drippings back into the pot right away.

Dipping works but you will get some broken edges because the cookie part is delicate and the icing is thick. Spooning works better. That’s what we put in the recipe. There’s also the ideal answer: invest a few million dollars in an industrial production line to maintain exactly the right temperature, which will also let you pick the exactly right kind of piping nozzle. Tempting… but I think we can leave that to the pros down in Baltimore.

Conclusion

This recipe will give you a cookie as close to the original as anything you’ll find. Tasters literally couldn’t tell which was which when comparing our version side by side to the last originals in the box. And tasters from Baltimore were so enchanted they really didn’t want to be distracted by such things.

The city’s football team may not hold a candle to our proud Pittsburgh standard. [Go Steelers!] But Baltimore’s city cookie? It’s right up there with our own Kauffman Thumbprints, and that’s high praise indeed.

Enjoy!

Kate’s Final Note

I am not responsible for the Terrible Towel / Baltimore Berger Cookie pairing down below. Scott showed up with the towel in hand, thinking he would help with the props. My eyebrows rose so high, I still have a wrinkle in my forehead! But I tried it, and it worked. Competition on a level playing field brings out the best in both sides.

How to season Baltimore’s city cookie; with a proper backdrop!
What the heck. Let’s add some extra cookies for halftime.

SOFT & CAKEY PUMPKIN COOKIES

Iced and spiced, soft and caky pumpkin cookies

Look up “pumpkin cookie recipe” and two versions will pop right up: chewy and cakey. Our recipe for Chewy Pumpkin Cookies already went up. Both of us are on Team Chewy, so that one got priority in the testing process. But you know what? Scott asked our ever-eager cookie testers about both, and the vote ran very close to 50/50. Team Cakey voted as long, loud, and often for their favorite as the loyal adherents to our favored party. Chewy-biased as we are, we have to agree our neighbors have a valid point. These Cakey Pumpkin Cookies are very, very good indeed. We will definitely make them again when the right opportunity appears.

NOTE FROM KATE: This cookie tastes less sweet than the chewy one – until you ice it. Whether you single-dip or double-dip your cookie in the icing will determine the sweetness level of every bite. If you wish to freeze these, and they will go stale faster than the chewy ones, there’s a definite way to get the best results. First, let the icing dry completely and/or freeze them individually on a baking sheet (recommended if you’ve done anything decorative). Then nestle the dried-icing cookies in a container with a tight-fitting lid, placing baking parchment between each layer. And remember: icing-destructive sticking will definitely occur if you put the cookie into their container while sticky, but it can occur as they thaw. Best to separate the frozen cookies earlier than later.

Get The Moisture Out!

Pumpkin keeps your cookies moist. That’s all to the good. Wet pumpkin? That creates unpleasant, pumpkin flavored snails. Moral of the story?

Get the extra moisture out!

Chewy Pumpkin Cookies do this by cooking the pumpkin in browned butter until the water is gone. That isn’t an option for this recipe, which starts with creamed butter (i.e., softened butter beaten until white, light, and fluffy). That means you need to dry the pumpkin out by hand.

We tested a few methods and ended with a clear favorite. First, it really helps to start with canned pumpkin because that’s already much drier than what you’d serve as a side dish. In fact, you’re going to find it in the baking aisle rather than with the other vegetables because the companies assume it will be used for some kind of pie, and don’t want customers to wrongly assume it’s ready to eat as-is. But pie recipes call for barely-damp pumpkin. That’s what is in the cans. Cookies want all-but-dry pumpkin.

We get there by putting the pumpkin in a fine mesh sieve and then blotting both the top and the bottom with some paper towel. Then we stir it with a spatula, squeeze out the paper towel, and repeat until it’s no longer absorbing a matieral amount of water.

This process taxes several mix-and-blot episodes, but it works and is definitely worth the time. Pro Tip: wring out the wet paper towel and keep reusing it until most of the water is gone. Then switch to a clean towel in order to see the moisture better for your final blottings.

NOTE FROM SCOTT: Blottings? Is that even a word? Some baker’s equivalent to etchings? “Hey Babe, how about stopping up to look over my blottings…” Something tells me that particular pick up line might not work as well as the other.

NOTE FROM KATE: See what I have to put up with?

The Recipe Could Not Be Simpler Once You Remove The Excess Moisture

Have you got your pumpkin basically dry? If so, you’ve got this nailed. The rest is easy.

Beat the softened butter with the sugars (white and brown) until light, white, and fluffy. I.e., “cream the butter” if you speak bakerese. Then beat in an egg until smooth. Follow by folding in the pumpkin along with some vanilla (or better yet, some vanilla spiked with maple). Now stir in the dry ingredients, taking care to avoid an eruption, and then refrigerate until the flavors meld and the texture sets into a consistent dough.

Done.

Baking that dough is even simpler. Portion onto baking sheets and let her rip.

To be fair, we inevitably add a third step, but that’s not exactly a challenge! Depending on the mood of the moment, we’ll either (a) roll the pre-baked cookie balls in spiced sugar like we do for Chewy Pumpkin Cookies, or (b) giving them a quick maple icing when they’re hot out of the oven.

Then comes the hard part. Cool completely before you dive in.

NOTE FROM KATE: This cookie contains two intensely hygroscopic (i.e. water-attracting) ingredients: pumpkin, and sugar. The pumpkin water gets stabilized as Scott described above, and baked, so that part is handled. The sugar in the icing, however, is a bit different. If your weather is humid, AND if you leave the cookies sitting out, the skin on the outside of your lovely icing will pucker up like a bulldog’s face. It’s still good and it still tastes the same, but it can change your expectations a bit.

I found that these cookies refrigerate well, which prevents the icing puckers. But don’t stop there. I also found that smooth icings make this cookie ideal for extra decoration. A colored drizzle line over the off-white icing would look great! Or you could decide that the puckers are a feature rather than a bug, and give the puckered icing a wash of thin, colorful icing for a stone-like effect. (See what I learned in pottery class?) In any case, I doubt the puckered icing will be an issue during the colder months, when our Pittsburgh humidity drops like a rock.

The Golden Rule Of Pumpkin Cookies: Water comes OUT before you make the dough. If you want water, have a glass AFTER they’re baked. Tea is pretty good too, of course.

NOTE FROM SCOTT: So much for my effort to make a pretty swirl in the icing. [Shakes head]

Conclusion

Be they chewy or cakey, pumpkin cookies are a simple, homey, and satisfying project. Half the world will prefer the one, and the other half the other. Make the one that sings to you.

Enjoy!

WORLD’S BEST CHEWY PUMPKIN COOKIES

Browned butter, pumpkin, and the child of their love

Pumpkins aren’t just for Halloween!

Pumpkin cookies have become an American classic. European readers who wonder why need do so no longer. The pumpkin flesh inside the dough ensures the cookies hold their texture for a very long time, and also adds a surprisingly elegant flavor with character and depth that play against a gentle spice mix. They are just plain good.

Pumpkin cookies come in two kinds: there is a cakey product similar to many Italian cookies. That recipe will follow in a week or two. We like to add some maple icing to make it extra unique. And then there’s this version: a soft, somewhat chewy drop cookie with a deeper flavor that stands on its own. Both cookies are wonderful for eating out of hand, as well as for coffee and tea. This one you can also dunk!

NOTE FROM KATE: This might be my favorite casual cookie, especially in the fall! But I do have something to add about my new hobby horse: different kinds of flour. A high-gluten bread flour would yield a very different cookie in this case. For comparison, I tried our recipe with a lower-and-weaker-gluten Einkorn flour. They came out flatter, which is not a surprise, but they also had a maltier, more complex taste that complemented the flavor profile. You might not think it, but this is a case where the flour’s actual flavor can make a big difference.

I have now set out to test several of our favorite holiday cookies with Einkorn, sometimes with the addition of rice flour, for those of us who do better on a more low-key gluten approach. Stay tuned.

Hats Off To King Arthur Flour.

King Arthur Flour is one of the oldest continuing millers in the U.S. Some sources say it’s the oldest. But the company really came into prominence for us in the 1980s when it led the nation toward new, higher quality flours and production methods. The company website includes some very good recipes too; including the inspiration for our approach to Chewy Pumpkin Cookies. We’ve tweaked their recipe a bit, but credit should go where credit is due. Here’s a tip of the hat and a courtly bow to Ms. Sarah Jampel. Well done.

The Big Trick To Pumpkin Cookies.

Pumpkin in the dough will keep a cookies moist, but it can also make them downright wet. Even unpleasant. Thus every good recipe for pumpkin cookies starts with an all-important first step: drive off as much water as you can. Wet pumpkin in your dough is B.A.D.

Honor thy father and thy mother. Love thy country. And get the [ahem]ed water out of thy pumpkin before turning it into a dough! Thou hast been warned.

Cakey Pumpkin Cookies start with creamed (beaten until white and fluffy) butter. So that recipe starts by putting a can of pumpkin in a fine sieve and then blotting it with paper towels top and bottom. Stir and repeat until basically dry.

Ms. Jampel found a way to skip that for Chewy Pumpkin Cookies. Dense, chewy cookies often start from melted butter anyway. That was going to be our initial plan. She went one step further and asked, “If water’s the problem, why not brown the butter instead of just melting it?”

Full pause. Execute face palm maneuver. “Doh!”

So we tested it, and here’s your answer: “Brown the butter and your cookies will improve in every way.” Hence recipe instruction #1: Cook enough butter to give you ¾ cup (6 oz = 17t ml) of liquid ambrosia, and then cook the pumpkin in that heavenly substance to drive off all the extra water. Simple.

NOTE FROM KATE: Oh, I totally agree. Especially with Einkorn flour! This approach gives you a nice browned edge and a cookie that’s fabulously rich and yet kind of wholesome at the same time.

NOTE FROM SCOTT: “Kind of wholesome?!” It’s a cookie! Virtue points and cookies are not a good match… [Ow!]… Of course dear. Yes dear. Never yuck the yum.

A Note On Substituting For The Pumpkin

We happened to make both acorn squash and butternut squash over the weeks when this cookie was on the development schedule. Scott claimed all leftovers to test as supplements/substitutes for canned pumpkin.

  • Cookies From Leftovers, Lesson #1: What you make for dinner has FAR too much moisture to ever blot dry like you’d need to do for the Cakey Pumpkin Cookies. But it will dry out if you toss the leftover squash into browned butter and cook it until the extra water is gone. Leftovers work in the chewy version.
  • Cookies From Leftovers, Lesson #2: The flavor was exquisite. Better than canned pumpkin by far, at least in my opinion. But the texture was a bit problematic, and required a quick blitz in the food processor or blender. Problem solved. Yes, that creates an extra thing to clean, but c’est la vie.

SNARK FROM SCOTT: Kate thinks the extra flavor wasn’t worth the effort, but she did no complaining about the cookies. You know: the “kind of wholesome” cookies now made extra virtuous by recycling food from an older meal.

NOTE FROM KATE: Make that “very wholesome, and practically a health food.”

  • Cookies From Leftovers, Lesson 3: It’s a little hard to calculate the volume of pureed squash you’ll end up with, and this is a recipe where volume matters more than weight. It’s smart to have a can of pumpkin ready on the side in case you need to add some in.
  • Cookies From Leftovers, Lesson 4: I worried about whether the butter in our initial dinner squash would throw off the ingredient ratios for the cookie. It wasn’t a problem.

Add The Spices In Two Parts

The first part of the spice mix goes into the dough during either the cook-the-pumpkin-down stage. If you forget, the mix it all together stage works almost as well. The difference between the two was extremely subtle.

The rest of the spice mix works best as a spiced sugar coating on top of the dough, though again: adding it before baking did not change the result in a really noticeable way. Take your pick of method.

Just Dump And Stir; But Avoid That Egg You’re Thinking About

Step 1: Cook the squash/pumpkin in browned butter. Step 2: Cool enough so your baking soda won’t trigger, and then mix everything together. Simple drop cookie 101.

The only question came with whether to add some egg into that dough. A clear majority of online recipes include at least one and often two egg yolks. We tested both so you won’t have to. The conclusion? Don’t bother.

Whole eggs turn out to be essential for cakey cookies because they help to create the right texture. General baking principles say that egg yolks fit well in denser baked goods. So the idea of using egg yolks for this recipe makes sense. But tests proved that the pumpkin itself adds all the structure you needs. If anything, the egg yolks got in the way.

Working On The Spice Mix

Obsessively compulsive bakers, like a certain husband in a certain house that produces an excessive number of cookies, will insist on making every spice mix from scratch. And long suffering wives in such households learn quickly that rolling ones eyes does nothing to make the process smoother. [The foregoing speaks in generalities only. We, of course, have no direct experience in this regard.]

NOTE FROM KATE: Just go with it, friends. When dealings with husbands who describe commercial spice mixes with words like ‘heresy’, one quickly learns that helpful efforts to streamline a process will only prolong it. If the cookie will be the same anyway, why wait longer than you have to? 🙂

Ahem. But it is only fair to note that this particular mix is a standard pumpkin pie formula downsized to preserve the buttery, caramely, pumpkin notes at the heart of the flavor profile. The actual spices you choose matter less than using the right amount to achieve that balance.

Einkhorn flour (half-spiced) on the lower left.
All purpose flour (unspiced) on the upper right

Conclusion

Every person in our household, and our extended group of tasters, had the same reaction to this cookie. It’s homey; it’s comfortable; it couldn’t go better with a cup of coffee; and the presence of an actual, real life vegetable means you can enjoy them for breakfast without any guilt. Or at least maintain a straight face when you say that to a third party. It’s a cookie everyone will like, no one will dislike, and lovers of the genre will view as a masterpiece.

The only drawback comes down to faint praise. Make these for your kids. Make these for the cookie raffle. Make these to share with all and sundry. And make these to keep in the freezer for times when you’ve earned that limited-guilt treat to go along with your coffee. There isn’t a cookie out there that defrosts better.

The only place they might not fit? An elegant holiday tray. Chewy Pumpkin Cookies are folk music played on a fiddle. December Extravaganzas involve fancy violins and string quartets. At least in our house.

Enjoy!

SWEDISH CHOCOLATE ORANGE RAISIN COOKIES, An Recipe Box Essential

American bakers may view this as something fascinating and unique. Our Swedish friends would be stunned at the idea, because this is one of their most normal, halfway-to-boring bakes. Both are right. These are emphatically not another version of the famous Tollhouse recipe. What they are is simple, easy, and so very good that every baker in Sweden has them front in center in the recipe card box. They’re also a recipe you can and should tweak in whatever little ways you want to make a unique version belonging to you and you alone.

Click Here For Just The Recipe

The Overview

NOTE FROM KATE: I would call this cookie a halfway house between sugar and shortbread cookies, except they are leaner than shortbread, and they are leavened. I added a bit of cardamom to ours, it brings out the best out of both butter and candied orange peel. It’s fair to disclose that I baked three or four times the usual number of batches of this one, because we kept eating it! And our kids liked it (I baked a batch with einkorn flour for them, it works well but spreads a bit flatter.) Then we had some give-aways, and these are so easy, it was a natural go-to recipe that’s different enough to get our usual audience excited. I hope you love it as much as we do!

Do you make Chocolate Chip Cookies? If so, you can make these just as easily. It’s the same exact method with slightly different proportions.

  • Cream some softened butter and sugar (“Beat until light and fluffy”);
  • beat in two eggs, one at a time; fold in the solids (chocolate chips, plus orange peel and raisins for this one);
  • beat in the flour and baking powder, with due care to avoid an eruption;
  • chill to let it all combine and set up; and then
  • form into balls and bake.

NOTE FROM KATE: You will have to cut the orange peel with a chef knife. I tried both raisin-sized pieces and finely chopped pieces. They do provide a different experience. The small, chopped orange peel permeates the cookie better, the larger bits are like finding a piece of candy in a cookie. See what vibes with you, you may find a preference.

Bing, bang, boom, and you’re done. You know how to do this.

The Swedish cookie has a bit less sugar and a little more flour, but that only shows up in the final texture. The only other difference is in the flavor. Tollhouse Chocolate Chip Cookies are all about the chocolate, with some extra texture from chewy nuts if you so choose. These are about balancing the chocolate chips with chocolate-loving flavors like candied orange peel and raisins.

As noted above, it all comes together into a cookie that no human being can dislike, and every human child will vibrate in delight to see.

The Complications, Lessons, And Tricks

None. As in, “not a single one.” This is Cookie Baking 101.

NOTE FROM KATE: Normally I would obsessively wet my hands to form perfect balls of dough. These cookies don’t require it at all. They are virtually self-rounding and self-leveling. Once you find the perfect size, a two-spoon method is perfectly functional!

Please Do Customize

Tollhouse Cookies invite a literally endless series of variations. Lighter or darker chips; different additions, ranging from varies candies, to pretzel bits, marshmallows, caramel, etc.; and so forth, so on, and continuing out to the limits of the baker’s creativity.

This recipe is every bit as much of a blank slate. Maybe even moreso. We suggest a few ideas for variations, such as cocoa powder in the dough or a spice to accent the fruits, but those don’t even begin to explore how far you can go in customizing these results. And every version you come up with really, honestly will deserve its own name in your recipe box. One of those will become that cookie; the one that others describe as your special creation.

Start with the basic recipe, as written, for your first batch. Get a feel for the canvas. All bets are off after that!

Conclusion

You want this cookie in your recipe box. Trust us on this. It’s just plain good. Kate calls them “undemanding and delicious.” A 102-year old family friend, and daughter of a professional baker, called them one of her new all-time favorites.

It’s so basic, so good, and so easy to customize that we’re a little embarrassed to say we hadn’t dreamed it up all on our own.

Enjoy!

HÁLFMÁNNAR (ICELANDIC HALF-MOONS)

Fruit filled, cardamom spiced cookies from Iceland

Behold the annual Christmas dilemma! We have more than 400 well tested cookie recipes to chose from. We typically end up with somewhere around 20 by the end of the Holiday baking spree. Five or ten of those are all but mandatory because the family would mourn if we “forgot” them. New recipes that “must” be tested raise that to a solid ten. We usually ends up with something like 20 in all. Thus there’s room for no more than 10-12 “others” from that enormous list of possibilities.

Icelandic Hálfmánar are going to make that final cut at least 75% of the time from now on. This, ladies and gents, is an extraordinary treat. One of the best you’ll ever make, and sure to be loved by all ages. Wow. Wow. And wow again.

Click Here For The Recipe Alone

The Summary

Hálfmánar are somewhat soft, well leavened, delicately crisped (see below) butter cookies with a perfect amount of cardamom in the dough. That dough gets wrapped around your choice of filling and then baked into a 3-bite cookie. Plum butter (povidla a/k/a lekvar) is the classic, but we have now tried fillings made from apple butter, strawberries, peaches, rhubarb, and Kate’s old favorite poppy seed. Every one was eye popping. Apricot, cherry, sweet cheese, and others will follow in turn. No stone unturned, right?

But that simple description doesn’t do this cookie justice, because the whole is exponentially better than the sum of those very delicious parts. Consider: We have a Czech friend named Barbora who bakes an array of holiday cookies that puts even our efforts to shame. We hold our own on variety and flavor. Heck, we may even win on those fronts. But appearance? Not a chance. Barbora and her mom are sensational decorators as well as great bakers, and Barbora could earn a good living on her photography alone.

The point being, she’s as tough an audience as you could ever find.

Barbora happened to be in town when I finished up our final Hálfmánar test batches, so I brought a pair over (plum and rhubarb) and asked her to test the cookies out. She rolled her eyes a bit, and promised that she’d get to them later. But I insisted on seeing her reaction, so she sighed and took a small bite.

Her eyes got wide, and a second bite followed immediately. Both samples were gone within a minute, and she was literally licking her fingers at the end – a thing that Czechs simply do not do.

Her verdict? “My mom will say they’re too big for Christmas cookies, but I want that recipe! Vánoce isn’t the only time we’re allowed to bake. Wow. I mean, like, WOW. Those were g.o.o.d.”

A Perfect Balance Of Flavors.

There’s a lot of cookies that gild the lily in an effort to be special. Most of the time that’s a mistake. And to be honest, we thought the cardamom in Hálfmánar dough would be yet another example. Think about it. You’re starting with a soft, buttery dough wrapped around densely flavored fruit butter! Why mess around in a search for something “extra?”

Man, were we ever wrong.

Freshly ground cardamom has a historic love affair with fruit of all kinds. This recipe includes the perfect amount to add some Scandinavian culture to the cookie, while simultaneously elevating the whole into something that glitters as much as it glows.

Do Not Overfill.

You’ll be tempted, but this is a case where balance adds more than you’d get from the extra filling. Trust us on this. Scott graduated summa cum laude from the school of More-Is-Better, and even he agrees. We call for a rounded teaspoon inside a 3″ diameter circle. You could fit in more, but don’t.

Kate’s homemade rhubarb filling on a plate she made herself.

Any Filling Will Do.

Prune butter (povidla a/k/a lekvar) is the most traditional filling across the recipes we researched. We adore it, and we happen to have several jars in the pantry. So we tried that first, and… wow.

But we couldn’t stop there! A friend hooked us up with a rhubarb farmer this spring, which led to jars of strawberry/rhubarb pie filling for the pantry. That went into test batch #2. Wow and wow again. Finger licking fabulous. (Just ask Barbora, lol).

Scott: “We’ve got to try this with apple butter!”

Kate: “Go ahead. But I’m going to test out poppy seed filling!”

Check. And check. And so it went. Take your fruit filling, cook it down to a dense fruit butter, and proceed.

NOTE FROM KATE: This was my first time putting up rhubarb strawberry pie filling for the winter. We used a half-pint jar for half of the dough. If you’re working with a pie filling, blend it first (I used an immersion blender in a Pyrex cup), and then cook it down. Adjust with a small amount of starch or ClearJel as needed. Then put a bit on a plate and quick-cool to test. If it’s too thick, add extra fruit. If it’s still too loose, simmer it down a bit more. This adjustment can be done while your dough is resting in the fridge. (The poppy seed was canned, and it worked out great!)

ANOTHER NOTE FROM KATE: We brought these cookies to a camping trip and shared them out. One of the lucky recipients had been to Iceland, and said that bakeries sell them in a variety of flavors. Thus, let your imagination take flight! Personally, I just might make extra cranberry sauce this Thanksgiving and cook down the leftovers for Hálfmánar.

About The Size.

This is a full, three-bite cookie because making them smaller would multiply the effort. 3″ circles – a standard biscuit cutter – already seems fussy for someone with full-sized fingers. Feel free to shrink them if you can, but for us, the extra cookies weren’t worth the extra effort. It’s up to you.

NOTE FROM KATE: Scott also tried the Asian dumpling crimper, which usually leaves a decorative edge. These cookies baked up into little football shapes, and their edge decorations didn’t hold up with this dough. It was, however, a lot faster.

[ADMISSION FROM SCOTT. I might have overfilled. Slavish instinct and long training being a thing.]

[KATE CONTINUING] The advantage of filling the cookies by hand is being able to shape them to a true half-moon, as their name indicates. The fork-tine edges aren’t much different from the dumpling crimper. We found that it helped to squeeze the middle of the circle first, and work toward the edges. The elasticity of the dough allowed us to make moon-shapes with better curves. It also made extra space for the filling. FYI, it’s faster in a team of two.

We do note that this particular size also fits the Icelandic tradition. We care about that kind of thing. Your mileage may vary.

Shouldn’t I Cream The Butter?

Confession time. Scott made a big deal about this being an ancient, ‘just mix it all together’ recipe in the initial test version… and then promptly forgot about that instruction when the butter came out of the fridge. That first batch used the standard creaming method by force of habit. Batch #2 followed the actual rules. [Sigh]. But at least this gave us a chance to compare!

The creamed-butter batch spread a bit more and might have been a tiny bit lighter, but no one would have noticed if they weren’t looking to find a problem. Dump-and-stir works every bit as well so long as your butter is soft enough to mix in without lumps.

Texture is the Persian flaw. Refresh Before Serving.

Legend says that ancient carpet weavers deliberately put small flaws in all their products because only God should make something perfect. Half-moons are darned close to perfect, but they do have that Persian flaw. The crust has a faint, utterly delightful crispiness on baking day, but humidity will kill that in a day or two. Three days at the very most.

Make no mistake. Softened Hálfmánar are still delicious, and no one would even dream of complaining. But this is one of those cases where “delicious” amounts to faint praise compared to what they’re like on the first day.

Kate discovered an easy fix. Pop the cookies back in a 250° F (120° C) oven for 5 minutes before putting them on the table. The gentle crispiness will return, and all will be scrumdiddlyumptious. That isn’t enough time to get the filling hot or to cause more browning. It merely refreshes the crust.

CONCLUSION

This is the best cooked-fruit cookie that either of us has ever had. Full stop. And that includes traditional favorites like filled gingerbreads, hamentaschen, and other famous cookies.

It’s described as the great Christmas cookie of Iceland. And it deserves to be. But Barbora is probably right for cookie arrays the size of ours. Three biters are definitely on the large size for a holiday tray that emphasizes variety as well as quality. That said, something this delicious is worth some extra space on the tray!

It should also be said that Hálfmánar are so very, truly awesome that it’s a shame to limit their use to the holiday season alone. These cookies are down in our family code as a year-round, fall back dessert for any season with an excess amount of fruit. Considering a pie? Keep Hálfmánar in mind as an elegant, just-as-easy alternative.

Wow.

Enjoy!

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: Drop or Roll-and-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!