Spice Cookies – Page 2 – Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World

SPECULAAS (a/k/a SPECULOOS) MASTER CLASS – An authentic recipe from a Dutch master

A thin, crispy, addictive, and not-too-sweet spice cookie that everyone will adore.

This will be a long post, so please take our standard suggestion seriously:

As always, skip to the bottom if you are only here for the recipe. The discussion of our stumbles and revelations along the way is going to take some time.

INTRODUCTION

I began this research with a simple enough goal. Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World has a recipe for Nut Dough Speculaas, but doesn’t have one for the light, thin, crispy version. This was because I couldn’t get them right enough to meet our somewhat extreme standards.

That has now been remedied thanks to the Specifically Spectacular Speculaas Facebook Group. What follows is my tale of working through all the details in the 100% authentic recipe shared by one of that group’s guiding stars: a fantastic Dutch baker named Luc Longin.

Luc’s recipe features some hard to find ingredients which actually matter (see below), and has methodologies for both the dough and the shaping that were new to my experience. Still, it was a recipe that’s worked for hundreds of people over dozens, if not hundreds of years. All I had to do was work it through, keeping some careful notes. Right? Yeah. Sure.

This article ends with a slightly adapted version of Luc’s recipe (we had to cut the leavening by a hair), but getting there turned out to be quite the adventure. I had to tweak our much-loved Speculaas spice mix. I had to bone up on my chemistry to understand how Belgian Brown Sugar differed from its peers, and why it acted differently in a cookie. Then came a comparison of Luc’s recipe to those in our book, the America’s Test Kitchen files, the Seriouseats.com formula, and an English version from Yotam Ottolenghi. After that came the study of Luc’s technical tricks. And then developing half a dozen different ways to make Gevulde (Filled) Speculaas; a Dutch (but not Belgian) holiday treat that will get its own article. All while compiling a list of sources for key ingredients and other materials.

Why can’t anything be simple? [Sigh]

That’s the “fair warning” part. The advertisement is this: all of that was absolutely fascinating, a joy to learn, and has made us better bakers. And, of course, produced some decidedly awesome (specifically spectacular?) recipes. So as that other [ahem] hefty man used to say, And awaaay we go!

HOW DO YOU DEFINE “SPECULAAS” IN THE FIRST PLACE?

Speculaas a/k/a Speculoos have a range that centers on Belgium and the Netherlands, and spreads out into the greater Rhineland, parts of northern France, and specialty shops across the continent. The feature a cinnamon-heavy spice mix that can be used in multiple ways, with several commercial versions and even more that are made at home. All those versions differ in their details, but share a common root; they are “friendly,” “accessible,” “easy to like,” and “familiar.” This spice mix explains why Speculaas are the place to start if you want to hook someone on the basic idea of a spice cookie. They are the cookie that doesn’t bite you back.

Standard Speculaas (those that don’t require an adjective in the name) are also thin, light, and crispy. Most will be formed in a wooden mold before baking (the name comes from the latin word “speculum,” meaning “mirror”). And those molds are shallower than Springerle molds, tend to be less detailed, and are also relatively large.

Have you ever seen those photos of a child clutching a person-shaped “cookie” almost as big as they are? That will be a Speculaa. Even the normal ones are relatively big. Our pussycat mold (see below) makes a cookie just short of 5″across. You know those “monster sized” chocolate chip cookies that mall stores used to tout? 3″ diameter, or 4″ at the most. OTOH, the actual volume isn’t that high because Speculaas are so thin.

Finally, the dough cannot be overly sweet, and must have some caramel notes. In sum, the purest definition would describe a thin, crisp, only-sweet-enough, child-friendly spice cookie formed in a shallow wooden mold. The tree branches out from there.

Our three molds: the pussycat, the windmill, and the rooster

One easy and common path avoids the molds in favor of a large, thin, roll-and-cut cookie. Try decorating the top with some almond slices held on by egg wash just to fancy them up. Another limb leads off into filled Speculaas, which can be a bar cookie, a sliced roll similar to Fig Bars, something that can be done as a Molded Gingerbread Cookie, or almost any other type of filled cookie. Almond paste does not spread as it bakes, which opens up a vast range of possibilities.

A third branch will shrug and either accept or embrace a soft texture, like the Heritage Cookies recipe that uses regular brown sugar with some nut flour. There are probably fourth and fifth branches too, though I can’t think of them off the top of my head.

The further you get from that light, thin, and crispy molded cookie, the more a purist could complain that you are “wrong.” But we are bakers, not professors! Kate and I will argue that nothing is out of bounds so long as you know where the trunk of the tree lies, and add a description to the name. Chewy Speculaas, Filled Speculaas, Nut Dough Speculaas, and maybe even Cinnamon Spice Speculaas are all legitimate since they give fair warning that you’ve headed out into the suburbs.

LUC LONGIN’S RECIPE

NOTE: This recipe originates with Mssr. Luc Longin of Belgium, and I hope you will join me in a nod of grateful thanks for his generosity. This goes to examples of Luc’s work, including both cookies and specialty molds. Video #1 (multiple small figures) and video #2 (one huge figure) demonstrate the molding tricks I will try to describe in words down below. Luc’s American counterpart, Andrea Hampton, also provided invaluable assistance as both an inspiration and a bouncing board. She owns the Sweet Impressions Bakery in upstate New York, between Rochester and Syracuse to the north of the Finger Lakes. You won’t find anyone on this continent who’s better, and I’m honestly not sure about anyone, anywhere.

You may also want to know that the two of them collect, refurbish, and sell high end, often historic molds. There are plenty of cheap ones out there (like our old tourist pieces), and also some modern knockoffs, but Luc and Andrea are the place to go for potential heirlooms if this article gets you hooked.

Okay, so here is the original Luc Longin recipe that set me off on this deep dive into the ocean of authenticity:

Speculaas-Luc-Longin-recipe Download

Read that through and you’ll see a number of ingredients that aren’t exactly common in a U.S. supermarket.

UNDERSTANDING THE INGREDIENTS, AND HOW THEY MATTER

“Type 00” flour.

“Type 00” refers to a super-fine grind, not to a protein content. We tested a few different products and found that “Type 00 pizza flour” worked better than “pasta flour”. King Arthur Flour sells a good product that is easy to find online. We bought ours down at Penn Mac in Pittsburgh’s Strip District, which supplies a lot of our Italian community.

All purpose flour will also work until you get to that last 5%. The difference only becomes apparent when you employ a traditional cookie mold. The finer “Type 00” yields slightly sharper features. Just be aware that “Type 00” weighs a little bit less than AP! Substitute by weight, not volume.

ADDITIONAL NOTE: Speculaas fan Carolyn Koss Kasten adds: “Pizza flour is more successful in speculaas than pasta flour due to the use of soft wheat in most commercially available pizza flour blends. Soft wheat has a lot of extensibility without the enhanced elasticity of modern hard wheats. This results in much better impression retention and very little deformation of the cookies as they bake. If you search my name in the [Specifically Spectacular Speculaas] group, you can see some extensive flour testing and discussion about that.

Belgian Dark Brown Candi Sugar

This is the elephant in the pantry.

Belgian brown sugar is not the same thing as U.S. brown sugar. The American version is made by adding molasses back into white cane sugar (pure sucrose) at a ratio of 1 tbsp. per cup for light brown sugar, and 2 tbsp. per cup for dark. Belgian brown sugar, a byproduct of the candy making industry, differs in several aspects:

It is made from “invert sugar,” meaning sucrose that has been treated with an acid to break a portion of it down into glucose and fructose. Those two component sugars, added together, end up being a little less sweet than pure sucrose. Reason #1 why Speculaas seem less sugary.
The invert sugar (sucrose, glucose, and fructose) is then caramelized to a medium or dark brown color as desired. The darker the caramel, the deeper the flavor and the lower the level of sweetness. Reason #2. FWIW, Luc recommends the darker brown, least sweet version.
Belgian brown sugar also starts from beet sugar instead of cane, but that becomes an imperceptibly subtle distinction after going through the inversion and caramelization steps.

This link goes to the hard-to-find Couplet brand that Mssr. Longin recommends, while this link goes to the competing Brun Fonce brand that is readily available in U.S. homebrewing stores. True fanatics can also make their own as outlined in this phenomenal article meant for large scale home brewers. (Brewers love Belgian Brown Sugar because it doesn’t make the yeast go nuts, and also leaves residual components to add both flavor and mouthfeel).

‘But Scott, what if I only want to get close enough to the real thing without going to all the effort of finding this kind of specialty ingredient?’

Fair point. We have found three alternatives, in descending order of preference:

The inestimable Stella Parks of Seriouseats.com, a self avowed Speculaas fanatic, likes to make a “toasted sugar” facsimile of Belgian Brown Sugar. Spread your desired weight out on a tray, and roast it at 300°F (150°C) for 4-5 hours, stirring occasionally, until you get the color you want. Grind the result in a food processor to break up the clumps, and proceed. Toasted sugar differs from the real thing because it is caramalized sucrose rather than caramelized invert sugar, but it is the closest alternative we know of.
America’s Test Kitchen suggests ground turbinado sugar as an easier alternative. Chemically, turbinado is the same thing as American light brown sugar with half as much molasses; i.e., 1 tbsp. for two cups of sugar instead of 1:1. It’s also made with vastly larger crystals, a feature that alters the way it behaves in baked goods. The fine folks at ATK found that finely ground turbinado gave the required hit of caramel flavor without making their cookies too soft. We haven’t tried it, but that is a very reliable group of test cooks and I’m willing to take their word for it.
Plain, old brown sugar from the supermarket is the least desirable substitute. Make no mistake: it will make you a truly delicious cookie! There are just two issues. First, it is noticeably sweeter, and this is a cookie that should be only sweet enough. And second, the hygroscopic powers of the molasses will quickly soften the cookies as you store them. In other words, they’ll be crisp when they come out of the oven, but will soften by the next morning. We use brown sugar for Gevulde (Filled) Speculaas and our Nut Dough Speculaas, but cannot recommend it for making the thin and crispy version that requires no disclaimer in the name.

Baking Soda and Hartshorn (Baker’s Ammonia)

Hartshorn, a/k/a Baker’s Ammonia, a/k/a ammonium chloride, a/k/a smelling salts is an old frenemy we discussed at length in Heritage Cookies Volume 1, our study of the ultra-leavened Hungarian Kvircedli, and most recently in a page on this website devoted to the whats, whens, hows, and whys of chemical leavening agents in general. It makes sense to use it here because hartshorn yields a finer, more even aeration than other chemical leavening agents. Combining it with baking soda yields the exact crumb you want for truly authentic Speculaas.

Baking soda alone will work, but the cookies will lose some definition. Not a problem unless you use a mold, since cookies without Hartshorn will rarely have good, sharp features. Certainly not reliably sharp.

In fact, the only change we recommend to Luc’s recipe is to lower the amount of baking soda by ¼ tsp. It may be altitude (our home sits at around 1,150 feet above sea level), or it may be some other subtlety, but we found that we lost some resolution when using the recommended 1¾ tsp. of baking soda along with 2 tsp. of hartshorn. Cutting back to 1½ tsp. of baking soda fixed that. I would experiment with even lower amounts if we used molds with finer features.

Good Butter

Both Andrea and Luc started their advice with a warning that I really, really needed to replace American supermarket butter with a high end European product like Ireland’s Kerrygold brand. Nor were they the only ones! The online community of cookie nerds unanimously echoed the point: Use The Best Butter That Money Can Buy! Still, that is a pretty major expense and so I decided to test it. Would the the luxury product really make a difference? How big a difference?

The experiment went like this. First, I made a single batch of dough containing everything but the butter. I used a scale to divide that dough into three equal parts, all of which were too dry to stick together, and then mixed in different butters to each portion in order to complete the dough. For the first I put in Kerrygold; the second got Land O’Lakes; and the third got Land O’Lakes enhanced by the ¼ tsp. of ghee required to give it exactly the same butterfat content as Kerrygold (¾ tsp. would have been needed for a full recipe).

I baked each batch with a secret, only-known-to-me appearance change, and then asked no less than fifteen (15) taste testers to give me their opinion. Skill levels ranged from expert bakers to cookie consumers who don’t know one end of a baking pan from the other.

The result? Everyone loved the cookie. Speculaas are a huge crowd pleaser! A clear majority also commented on the lack of sweetness, saying it was a relief compared to “normal” cookies. But the butter? No one – not a single person! – could tell any difference. Two people preferred the Kerrygold; two preferred the Land O’Lakes; one preferred the enhanced Land O’Lakes; and ten of the fifteen thought I was playing some kind of trick by giving them identical products. Which may say something about how people view me… but never mind.

Take from that what you will. Experts in the field say that luxury butter makes a very noticeable improvement. Experiments in the field said the opposite. Me? I just want another cookie.

THE TECHNIQUE WAS A REVELATION

Admission time: I tried several things to “improve” on Mssr. Longin’s seemingly blunt instructions. Every single change I made hurt the final product. And I mean those words literally. Every change made an actual difference, and that difference made the cookie a little bit worse in some way or another.

How To Make The Dough

Go back and read the recipe. Luc mixes together the butter, egg, and water, and then kneads in the sugar and the dry ingredients. That’s it. Period.

I figured things might work better if I creamed the butter and sugar together before adding in the other ingredients. That’s standard Cookie Making 101, right? Wrong. The cookies came out almost fluffy, with next to no definition, and a distinct lack of the all-important crunch. The experiment earned me nothing but egg on my face rather than egg in the bowl.

On the left, made with creamed butter. On the right, simply mixed.

Same thing. Too much leavening or creamed butter, vs. simply mixed

And a third time. Don’t cream the butter, and don’t add too much leavener!

Do as I say, not as I did. Just get it all combined and proceed from there. Don’t cream the butter first. And don’t even think about cutting in cold butter in some sort of abortive effort to enhance things with crispy layers. Go simple.

I got saved from blunder #2 because I had the smarts to talk about blunder #1 with the experts, Andrea and Luc. When they got done e-snickering, e-chiding, and e-eye rolling at my expense, they dropped a pearl that saved me from another wasted batch. Letting the dough sit in the fridge for 1-3 days is not a matter of convenience, nor of relaxing the gluten. This dough is carefully calibrated to have just enough moisture to hold together with very little more, and it has a lot of flour. That long wait allows the spice flavors to meld, while giving the flour particles a chance to hydrate evenly.

How To Use A Speculaas Plank

Blunder #3 came from trying to do a shortcut in the molding process. Luc’s videos start with a wide bowl or tray of rice flour. He uses that to fill the mold all the way up, dumps that powder back into the bowl, and then knocks on the back of the mold to remove the excess. The result? A perfectly dusted mold every time, without any need for buttering or oiling.

It occurred to me that I had extra, powder-fine, “Type 00” flour on hand, and might as well use it up. Efficiency matters, right? [Sigh] Yes, it worked well enough. The figures released with a single whack. Two at the most. But they were just a little… unfocused, even before baking. Their trip through the oven only enhanced that, leaving me with shapes rather than figures.

The next time through I pulled rice flour from the pantry and used that. Presto changeo! The figures came out even more easily, and were that much sharper. I haven’t tested it, but we are convinced that corn starch, tapioca starch, and similar powders should work equally well.

These are Gevulde (Filled) Speculaas, but make the point. The one on the left was done in a flour-dusted mold with extra leavening. The one on the right was dusted with rice starch and the reduced amount of baking soda.

Blunder #4 happened because I am a knife geek. Luc fills each powdered mold with softened dough, rolls it to fill in all the nooks and crannies, and then cuts off the excess to leave the cookie backs exposed. The videos clearly use a serrated slicing knife to cut off the extra dough. Clearly and obviously.

Did you know that every knife is actually a serrated knife? When you get down to the microscopic level, even the keenest blade is actually made of tiny teeth that saw through their target. This is why you use a slicing motion when using a kitchen knife instead of pressing straight down. That motion amounts to pushing and drawing the “saw.”

I keep my knives very, very sharp. The dullest one is the bread knife, because large serrations are that much harder to hone. A nice, thin, extra sharp blade would obviously work even better than the bread knife. Right? It’s nothing but physics in action! Right?

The answer is, “no.” Our thinnest, sharpest blades caught on the dough no matter what, and kept pulling pieces out of the mold. Our serrated bread knife worked far better, especially when used in very small back-and-forth sawing motions.

Some people never learn.

OTHER NOTES

None. Well, almost none. We developed an excellent Speculaas Spice Mix while working on recipes for Heritage Cookies Of the Old And New World. I use it all the time as my “starter mix” when making a spiced cookie for children and other tender palates. With all this testing, however, Kate began to find the mix a little cloying and simplistic. I solved this by doubling the amount of pepper from ½ tsp. up to a generous 1 tsp., and using white pepper instead of black. That gave it just enough bite to satisfy a grownup palate too.

The recipe below includes the higher amount. Feel free to cut it back if you’re targeting younger appetites.

CONCLUSION

This has been an exceptionally long journey for what’s actually a simple cookie. Yes, a lot of that came from experiments to confirm or belie the importance of European ingredients that can be hard to find here in the U.S., and more came from testing out different substitutions. But some of the wasted time came from me trying to gild the lily. Don’t waste time doing anything more than mixing the ingredients together, and don’t look for false economies like using extra fine flour instead of starch when you’re dusting the molds.

Do follow the very simple instructions, including the extended wait time between making the dough and using it.

What you’ll get is a really special cookie that is light, crisp, delicately spiced, and only as sweet as they need to be. Sort of like a big old grin from your favorite Uncle as you pop in for a holiday. You just can’t help but smile back, and that is the magic of genuine, ultra-authentic Speculaas.

PART II GEVULDE (FILLED) SPECULAAS

That link will take you to the follow-up article, which includes a recipe for dough made with standard U.S. ingredients, a customized recipe for almond paste filling, and looooong instructions on a full dozen different ways to shape the filled Speculaas to maximum effect. As in…

An array of different Gevulde (Filled) Speculaas

CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW TREATS – Part 1, An Overview

Part 1 of a 5-part series about those chocolate coated treats you adored as a child. This is the overview.

This is by far the most challenging recipe we’ve undertaken even though the basic instructions for all of the 73,000 variations could not be simpler:

Make a simple, basic cookie base.
Make a marshmallow filling and pipe it on top of the base.
Cover with a thin coat of snappy chocolate.

Easy, right?

Well, maybe the cookie part… until you account for the infinite variations and my obsessive need to test each and every one. But that’s just volume of work, not difficulty, and I can sum it up quickly. (A) any plain cookie of the proper size will work, and we took great delight in playing around. It’s almost shocking at how big a difference you can create by shifting to a cardamom, cinnamon, or gingerbread flavored base in lieu of the classic Vanilla or Graham Wafer. (2) Straightforward shortbreads like your favorite butter cookie will also work. But (3) It is vital to keep the intensity under control, so the base to be a partner in the enterprise, and not a dominator. If you’re starting from a standard spice cookie (a/k/a “snap”), cut the amount of featured flavor in half.

The marshmallow fillings posed a bigger problem. We are bakers, not candy makers, which created a learning curve issue before we could start narrowing down toward the perfect version. I discovered there are two basic approaches to making a homemade marshmallow: the U.S. gelatin-only version, and the European Italian-meringue version. Both recipes work… if you want to make a marshmallow to eat out of hand. They emphatically do not work when you’re after an ultra-light, not too sweet marshmallow filling!

The solution came down to food chemistry in action, as discussed in this online grade school experiment. All marshmallows have a certain proportion of corn syrup (glucose) in addition to regular sugar (sucrose). They must, because at these concentrations you need to combine the two sweeteners in order to prevent crystallization. If you do the experiment, you’ll learn that a higher percentage of corn syrup yields a fluffier but less sweet product. Ding ding! That was exactly what I wanted! The two marshmallow fillings have different proportions, but raising the level of glucose pretty much solved the problem. More than solved. Taste testers actually stopped to ask, “how did you get this texture?”

Then came the third kind of marshmallow… but that’s the tale of Part 5.

The chocolate coatings drove poor Kate nigh unto madness. [NOTE FROM KATE: Ahem! “To a level of high frustration.” Husbands.] Here’s the problem in a nutshell: you’re trying to duplicate cheap, commercial, pseudo-chocolate shells using quality products in a homemade environment. So how the devil could you create that thin, snappy shell at room temperature without all the apparatus of industry?

Back to the food chemistry research I went, where I discovered that the answer lies in the kind of fat you use to thin out the chocolate. Think of it this way. You’re really trying to create a version of the “magic shell” liquid used to coat ice cream. That is nothing more than melted chocolate thinned with coconut oil. It works because the cold ice cream hardens the oil to create a shell. Leave your finger on that shell, and the spot you’re touching will turn soft and gooey because the heat of your body is higher than the melting point of coconut oil.

What we needed for Chocolate Marshmallow treats was a fat that would harden/soften at body temperature rather than room temperature. Industry uses palm oil, which does just that and is also cheap. But palm oil is evil. The combination of slave labor and environmental havoc behind that industry means that we won’t have anything to do with it. Palm oil was out. Cocoa butter was in.

For what it’s worth, our taste runs toward a classic dark chocolate coating, but white and milk versions will also work, and sprinkles, sparkles, or stripes, ground nuts, espresso powder, & etc. could be used to guild the lily. Oh yes! You can also flavor the chocolate with a touch of coffee or liqueur.

Permutations Multiplied By Possibilities; And Again; and Again; and Again.

Look at the options we had at this point in time. Start with cookie bases limited only by your imagination; multiply by two marshmallow fillings that can be piped in any shape; multiply again by literally any extract buried away in your spice cabinet; multiply a fourth time all the different forms of chocolate; multiply a final time for the ways you can flavor that chocolate; and then consider all the ways you could decorate those final products.

You could fill an entire bakery with that many variations, and still have ones you left out. Macarons 2.0, done and ready to publish. Right? Not exactly. It turns out there is a third kind of marshmallow, which will blow your mind unless you grew up in Eastern Europe.

Zefir, named after the gentle southern wind,is a marshmallow that starts from a base of concentrated fruit. But that doesn’t do it justice. They don’t taste of “fruit” so much as FRUIT!!!! The level of pure flavor is almost hard to believe, especially when you factor in the distinctly sour tang that no extract could even begin to imitate. It’s like nothing else we’ve ever come across.

Zefir are usually sold on their own, with neither a cookie base nor a chocolate coating. But both variations exist on store shelves in every country from Poland and the Czech Republic eastward into Central Asia, and no study centered on marshmallow fillings would be complete without at least mentioning Zefir as a potential variation.

Alas, but Zefir are also a maddening puzzle we still haven’t cracked! The basic method could be the simplest one of all, and it has worked spectacularly for both sour apple and raspberry versions. But it’s also failed completely with some other fruits, and we’ve yet to understand why. So part five of this series is a work in progress. We can promise results for the apple and raspberry versions, but things get inconsistent after that.

CONCLUSION

Macarons are a very elegant, grownup treat. Chocolate Marshmallow Treats make your inner child jump up and down like a vibrating six year old. But the two cookies share something in common: they can be made in endless, high-end variations that deserve to be tucked into elegant little boxes for a nifty markup. If you’re a bakery owner, take me at my word and do a few “Why not?” experiments of your own. It could be the start a whole new trend, and it’s as simple as 1, 2, 3:

Cookie Base, flavored with anything you want;
Marshmallow Filling, flavored with anything you want; and
Chocolate coating, flavored with anything you want, and decorated as you desire.

It took us forever to get each of those pieces capital-R Right, but none of them is hard on its own once you have the recipe. So don’t be daunted! People across the world will bow at your feet once you master the simple tricks that let you make these for gifts, parties, and sales. Wait a sec… Let me lodge the protest on your behalf:

“Across the world?” Come on Scott. Why the exaggeration? We all know this treat from childhood. It’s hardly the sort of thing that would make people all over the world go wild!

Think not? Let me leave you with this:

A LIST OF INTERNATIONAL VERSIONS, VARIATIONS, AND NAMES (drawn from perhaps the best Wikipedia article ever)

THE CHOCOLATE MARSHMALLOW TREATS SERIES

Part 1, The Chocolate Marshmallow Treat Overview

Part 2, The Cookie Base Options

Part 3, The Marshmallow Filling Options

Part 4, The Chocolate Coating and Finishing Options

Part 5, Experiments With Fruit-Based Zefir Marshmallows

CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW TREATS – Part 2, The Cookie Base Options

Part 2 of a 5-part series about those chocolate coated treats you adored as a child. This examines the cookie base.

This should be a short post because it has a relatively simple, if far-reaching, message. Most of us grew up with a single version of Chocolate Marshmallow Treats. That’s the one that will feel “right,” while everything else is an experiment. But that version is not “right” to the rest of the world. There are almost infinite ways to customize these cookies, and a great many of those variations have been popular in some part of the world even if they were unknown in yours. So when you look at the different options for the cookie base, start by considering the options and possibilities.

As always, skip to the bottom if you are only here for the recipe

Chocolate Marshmallow Treats can build on almost any kind of cookie base, and shifting that part up will completely change the effect for the loved ones who are privileged to share your bounty. We really did test this, and the distinctions aren’t exactly subtle. Indeed, the best advice we can give is this: keep the amount of flavor in your cookie base down to a hint rather than a dominant feature. You want the cookie part to mesh with the marshmallow and the chocolate, not fight them for dominance.

The recipes we tested include:

Commercial Vanilla “Wafers” – on the smaller side, but absolutely delicious as a plain, almost invisible foundation. The marshmallow filling will soften them in the beginning, but time will help them to crisp back up a little.

Homemade Vanilla Snaps – Step up your game from “plain” to “elegant” with a homemade version.
Graham Cracker Snaps – I grew up with Mallomars^TM as my personal norm. Those come with a graham cracker base that evokes a S’more. See below for an elegant homemade version that’s worth eating out of hand as well as inside a cookie.
Spice Snaps – See the master recipe below, or use your personal favorite with about half as much spice as you’d use for a free standing cookie. Full-flavored snaps aren’t partners so much as pushy, wannabe overlords.

Cocoa Spice Snaps with marshmallow only, white chocolate, and dark chocolate

Shortbread Wafers (Commercial or Homemade) – You just can’t lose when buttery goodness comes to town.
Miniature Cake Rounds (No Recipe Provided) – This is as common as can be among the commercial versions, but you won’t see a recipe here. We do cookies, thank you very much, not cake. (I might also be just about done with experimenting by now…)
No Cookie Base – Omit the base and you get a candy rather than a cookie. Same issue as the cake base. Besides, I have zero doubt that anyone who reads this will be able to figure this one out on their own.

Want to play? Lemon curd dots to go inside the marshmallow!

CONCLUSION

That covers it folks. Expand out from here. But please pause for a moment and look at how we’re already multiplying out! So many choices for just the cookie part. And believe me, there are just as many options when it comes to the marshmallow filling.

THE CHOCOLATE MARSHMALLOW TREATS SERIES

Part 1, The Chocolate Marshmallow Treat Overview

Part 2, The Cookie Base Options

Part 3, The Marshmallow Filling Options

Part 4, The Chocolate Coating and Finishing Options

Part 5, The Strange New World of Fruit-Based Zefir Marshmallows

NOTE: You can also use the Vanilla Snap/Wafer recipe as your base. Cut the vanilla in half and then add in the Spice Option.

CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW TREATS – Part 4, The Sticky Problem of Chocolate Dip

Today you get a big, fat note from Kate, because I’ve somehow become the family chocolate dipper.

Oh, we’ve all tried it, and we all have our tricks. I’m the one who gets to share the final results with you, though, because I strongly believe in the Power of Chocolate. It is, after all, its own separate food group!

[NOTE FROM SCOTT: It also has magic powers. I know this from long experience with both a wife and two daughters. “Just stand back and throw some chocolate at her” isn’t a joke, it’s a survival mechanism. The masculine life expectancy in America soared in the late 1890’s and early 1900’s. Hershey’s went into business in 1894. Coincidence? You lay your bets, and I’ll lay mine.]

As always, you can skip to the bottom if you’re only here for the recipe

We’ve been dipping various cookies in chocolate for years, as evidenced by the recipes in Volume I of the Heritage Cookies Cookbook. A careful observer may notice that the quality of our chocolate dip in some of those photos isn’t nearly as smooth and shiny as commercially made products. There is a reason for that. First, we are home bakers, not chocolatiers.

Sure, I could invest into (a few more) additional pieces of equipment. Then, because tempering chocolate is best done at volumes larger than we usually use, I could sink an inordinate amount of money into ingredients only to learn how to temper chocolate properly. But… really?

Friends, chocolate ain’t cheap. Never was. And neither is time. Therefore, I am forever grateful for every little trick, as well as for those immense bricks of good-enough, affordable chocolate from Trader Joe’s. They do a pretty good job for most our applications. For fussier cookies we’ll buy Callebaut or Valrhona, and for convenience, Scott is willing to use those commercially available chocolate melts. But that doesn’t get us into the main point of this article.

Why is high-quality, commercially produced chocolate so pretty and shiny, and how can one do that at home? I’m not a chocolate expert so I’ll give you the shorthand as I understand it.

Cocoa butter, the off-white fat that forms the bulk of the chocolate we eat, crystallizes into several different forms. Of those, the beta-crystals are the ones that produce a smooth and shiny surface. If you melt your chocolate under exacting, well-controlled conditions, working the softened product under controlled humidity, concentration, temperatures, and timing, you will end up with tempered chocolate. Such conditions can be achieved for the home baker, but they require low air humidity, a large marble or granite board, and a certain minimum volume.

Plus, of course, practice.

But there is a shortcut! Properly tempered chocolate is chock-full of beta-crystals. It snaps upon breaking, and the break is smooth instead of crumbly. The chocolate’s surface shines with that undeniable gleam of quality and good taste.

Commercial chocolate makers, who process tons of material, have their processes tightly in check. The less-expensive brands also stretch their batches with extra fillers (powdered milk and lots of extra sugar), flavorings, emulsifiers, and various fats to act as melt conditioners. You will notice that cheap chocolate has a list of ingredients as long as Twinkies, whereas high-quality chocolate will have fewer than you can count on your fingers.

Technically speaking, the final product requires only cocoa butter, cocoa, and sugar. But there is an inexpensive, readily available product that works even better if you are willing to turn a blind eye toward certain other factors.

To Palm Oil Or Not To Palm Oil, That Is The Question

Palm oil is entirely edible, tasteless, inert, and has a combination of high molecular weight and melting characteristics that allow you to easily thin chocolate enough to produce a hard, thin layer at room temperature. These properties, its low cost, and its ability to substitute the more expensive cocoa butter, makes it ideal for a whole slew of commercial applications.

NOTE FROM SCOTT: Wilton, the maker of Candy Melts™ sells a product called “EZ Thin Dipping Aid.” That is the product to use if you’re willing to go the palm oil route. It works like a charm and is the perfect solution used across the board by the baking industry. So why do we go to all this effort to avoid it? Well…

Coatings, fillings, cakes – even tortillas! Palm is an incredibly useful product for a host of culinary purposes; so useful that human greed has gotten involved to change the calculus. Entire tropical rain forests were cut down to make space for palm plantations, where brutal working conditions approaching slavery are routinely employed. And there is absolutely no way to source palm oil from only the “good actors.”

Understand: palm oil is no worse than anything else from the chemistry and biology points of view. It is a fat, with all the pluses and minuses that entails, and a particularly desirable one because of its unique characteristics. But our family will not willingly contribute toward either environmental devastation nor human degradation, and so palm oil has now become a product that we actively avoid whenever possible. You will not find it in any of our recipes until we’ve been convinced that the problems were solved.

If Palm Oil Is Out, What Then?

So what do you do when you’ve ruled out the cheap, convenient, and chemically ideal ingredient as your melting aid? We ended up resorting to the more expensive, natural and equally ideal cocoa butter. You know, the stuff that actually belongs in chocolate!

A quick online search revealed that cocoa butter is available in convenient melt discs. A purchase under $20 lasted us through great many chocolate projects, so a little goes a long way. Make sure to get the food-grade, as many less-expensive brands are intended for cosmetic use only.

What did we try before cocoa butter?

“Everything.”

It feels like it, anyway. Butter, cream, and various oils all got a whirl in our kitchen. Our younger daughter is a great fan of coconut oil as the magic ingredient for the “magic shell” used to coat ice cream. That texture is exactly what you want for Chocolate Marshmallow Treats too, but it just doesn’t work at room temperature. The coating stays solid when it’s down at ice cream temperatures, but it turns tacky on cookies and becomes downright runny if your room turns warm.

Butter and cream will also lower viscosity (i.e., the chocolate melt is thinner) but they won’t give you that shiny surface and can also remain sticky. Vegetable oil works to thin the result and it helps the melting process, but the chocolate remains even runnier because the melting point is that much lower.

We found that cocoa butter was the only alternative that really worked. It has the right combination of both melting point and melt properties to help soften the chocolate thin it for a good dip – but also gets hard enough to avoid being sticky at room temperature. Think of every other chocolate! They melt in the mouth, not on the plate.

But What About The Pretty, Shiny Part?

Aha! You want to grow beta-crystals.

Think back to that sugar crystallization experiment from elementary school. You coated a wet string in sugar crystals, put it into the saturated liquid, and then watched the crystals grow over the next few days. Those initial crystals were key to giving a platform for the crystals to form. You had to seed the string.

In exactly the same way, you can seed your microwave-melted chocolate with beta-crystals by adding solid grating of an expensive, shiny, properly tempered chocolate you bought at the store. If you fail to do that, the chocolate won’t look shiny after it sets. A day or five later, depending on how humid it is, you’ll notice the chocolate’s surface breaking into light and dark structures. The chocolate is blooming with the growth of unwanted, non-beta crystals.

Compare the two enrobed treats in the photo below:

So here you have it. You will find that white chocolate melts differently from all other chocolates, because it has a slew of various other ingredients. I had to add more cocoa butter to help it melt and got a thin coating as a result. Milk chocolate is the best-behaved and least likely to seize. Which brings us to a sticky situation:

What If Your Chocolate Seizes?

Seizing refers to a phenomenon where you are melting chocolate, stirring it, and it suddenly thickens into a grainy, thick, clay-like mass. Seizing occurs when a droplet of water accidentally splashes into your melt. A steamy kitchen has been reported as a culprit in cookbooks. The cocoa butter crystallizes into the “wrong” crystals, locking its structure into something you can’t easily use.

Overheating your chocolate will make it more prone to seizing. The darker the chocolate, the easier it is for it to seize, too.

But there is a fix: Add boiling water one tablespoon at a time, stirring vigorously. The water will dissolve the structure of the crystals, and give you a chance to melt-and-seed as described above.

This being said, I have not tried to make chocolate coverture with a melt that has seized and been rescued. I don’t know how the final product would set, and whether it would bloom or not. However, this chocolate can be used for any other melted chocolate application. If you make ganache, you can save it for a cake filling, brownies, or truffles you’ll probably be making down the line.

I hope this helps. Keep playing with it and expect to have a ruined batch every so often. Since no chocolate is wasted unless you burn it, this experimentation is a low-stakes learning curve. Let us know how this worked for you, and please share tips of your own!

NOTE FROM SCOTT: As you might expect, we made a lot of coated treats in the process of recipe development over the past several months. A lot of them looked perfect when made, and perfect the next day, but mysteriously bloomed after a few days out on the table by the window (we being too lazy to store them properly). Poor Kate was beside herself, figuring that all her careful work had gone wrong. (NOTE FROM KATE: Not “beside myself.” I am entirely too cool a cat for that. More like, pissed off and frustrated. This might have something to do with the fact that I dejunked our excess storage containers 😉

Then, one late morning, en route to a work-break bit of snitching, I noticed that the cookies were positively glowing in the sunlight; and made my fingers sticky in an extremely tattle-tale way. Aha! The penny dropped. The chocolate coating was heating past the critical stage and then re-hardening in a random way without the benefit of beta crystals to guide the process! The result? A coating that bloomed with big white splotches after it rehardened.

It tasted just as good before and after. I assure you; I tested that feature thoroughly, and with great attention to detail. But it is a lesson to remember. Leave your chocolate out in the sun, and it will lose its temper, have a tantrum, and go all white in the face.

To Mold Or To Pour?

The neatest solution is to spend a few bucks on a silicone chocolate mold. Paint the inside of that with your chocolate coating, set it aside to harden, and then fill it with your marshmallow. Top that with your cookie, or some complementary jam and then your cookie. Chill a little more, and then unmold.

Perfect every time unless your coating somehow sticks to the silicone.

THE CHOCOLATE MARSHMALLOW TREATS SERIES

Part 1, The Chocolate Marshmallow Treat Overview

Part 2, The Cookie Base Options

Part 3, The Marshmallow Filling Options

Part 4, The Chocolate Coating and Finishing Options

Part 5, The Strange New World of Fruit-Based Zefir Marshmallows

CHOCOLATE COVERED MARSHMALLOW TREATS – Part 3, The Marshmallow Filling Options

Part 3 of a 5-part series about those chocolate coated treats you adored as a child. This examines the marshmallow fillings.

Part 1 of this series provided an overview of this massive project, with some notes about the problems we ran into.

Part 2 listed several recipes we developed for different cookie bases: Vanilla, Spice, Graham Cracker, and Shortbread. You can also use a thin cake round, but we left that one out because this is, after all, a project devoted to heritage cookies.

This Part 3 examines the two main approaches to creating a marshmallow filling. There is a third approach too, for fruit-based Zefir marshmallows, but I’ve moved that discussion over to its own Part 5.

Piped with a round tip onto commercial wafers

Piped with a star tip onto commercial wafers

Rose, Vanilla, and Banana on homemade Vanilla Snaps. Color coded with a few drops of food dye.

As always, skip to the bottom if you only want the recipes. The rest of this article digs into the process behind those final results.

The Internet offers a metric ton of recipes for homemade marshmallows, most of which work pretty well. They’re the world’s easiest candy. Basically:

Start with a thick and sticky substrate (made from the marshmallow plant in antiquity);
Heat a sugar syrup to the soft ball stage (235‑240 °F a/k/a 112-115 °C), using a combination of table sugar (sucrose) and corn syrup (glucose) syrup to prevent crystallization; and then
Whip the sugar syrup into the substrate until it balloons up to create fluffy marshmallows. These can be piped while warm, or else cooled in a pan to make cut-out eating marshmallows.

The American version uses a lot of gelatin to make that sticky substrate. The European version uses whipped egg whites with less gelatin; i.e., is a gelatin-strengthened Italian Meringue. NOTE: French meringue is egg white whipped with sugar; Italian meringue is egg white whipped with hot sugar syrup; and Swiss meringue is egg white heated to around 170-175 °F (76-79 °C) before being whipped. Swiss is stiffer and more stable than Italian, which is stiffer and more stable than French.

Problem #1: The filling was denser and sweeter than we wanted.

Think of a classic marshmallow you eat out of hand. They have a distinct chew to them, right? It’s part of the appeal. Now think of that chocolate covered marshmallow treat you grew up with. Much less chewy! And a bit less sweet, because flavor also comes from the cookie base and the chocolate topping. The The cookie would not be perfect until we got a handle on the problem.

Fair enough, but how do you change a marshmallow recipe to achieve those targets? It can obviously be done – the commercial products prove that – but we had to figure out how. And that was a major pain in the whosis, because our expertise on the baking side did not extend into this kind of candy making and sugar work.

The first and most obvious solution (cutting cut back on the amount of gelatin) proved to be impossible. Cut back too far and the structure dissolves rather than getting lighter, and I could not fidget my way into a perfect balance because kitchen scales only have so much precision. Plus the marshmallows were far too sweet for this use, and cutting back on the sugar too created other textural issues. I fought this problem for months, and ended up with a pair of solutions that work hand in hand.

Kate gets 100% of the credit for the first. She noticed that our trusty stand mixer began to really strain as the marshmallow mix cooled down. Part of this came from how the filling thickened as it cooled, but the overflowing bowl factored in too. Her solution? Shrink the recipe by a third. Huge difference. The lower volume resulted in a fluffier marshmallow because the machine wasn’t slowing down, and also because the bowl had extra room to accommodate it.

I claim credit for the second solution. I posted the question on some Internet groups/boards, and no one seemed able to help. All I got were suggestions for vegan substitutes that could be used instead of gelatin. That wasn’t the issue! Vegan shmegan; I just wanted to know what was going on in the chemistry, and how to adjust it. One long-suffering volunteer finally burst out with, “maybe you should take a food science class or two.”

Ding ding! For some reason I’d done all my Internet searches using the words “chemistry,” “physics,” and descriptions like “fluffier” and “denser.” I’d never done one using the term “food science.” Why not try? I did, and up popped this lovely article on a project for grade school science teachers: “Sweet Science – Making Marshmallows.” I urge you to read it, but here’s a quick summary in case you want to save some time. Loosely translated, the project reads as follows:

“Have your students make marshmallows with different proportions of sugar to corn syrup, and then measure the characteristics. They’ll find out that more sugar equals a denser and sweeter product, while a higher ratio of corn syrup reverses that. Then you can let the kids eat their experiment, and send the sugared-up darlings off to some class with a colleague you don’t like.”

Okay, I added that last last sentence on my own. But look at what it says! Lighter, and less sweet. Exactly what I wanted. We did the experiment; it worked just as predicted; and the results now appear in the recipes below.

Plus there’s this: Now you have the power too! By way of reference, American eating marshmallows have a sugar:syrup ratio of 6:1 by volume. That’s now at 3:2 for the cookie filling, which coincidentally works out to just about 1:1 by weight. This is just about perfect for us, but you can fuss with it to your heart’s content to find the proportion that’s perfect for you. Tastes differ. Though it must be said that we achieved a texture so “right” that our testers actually singled it out for special compliments! Yes, you really can tell.

Problem #2: Piping the Marshmallow was a P.I.T.A.

There’s no easy way to say this. I suck at piping. And that is a problem because this is a recipe where you need to work quickly. Cooled marshmallow filling stiffens, is harder to pipe, and tends to mound up unevenly instead of covering the whole cookie in a pretty layer. Nor does it help that our biggest piping bags are “mediums” on anyone else’s scale. Even the reduced recipe required us to refill the bag two or three times, which led to the filling cooling off that much faster, and becoming that much… You get the idea.

Marshmallow gets stiffer as it cools, and won’t pipe out cleanly.

In the end I found three solutions that worked pretty well.

Scott’s Solution. Rope in Kate or a daughter to cover for my sorry efforts. This works perfectly, and I recommend it highly.
The Doh! Solution. Buy a bigger bag. Maybe next time. They aren’t as easy to find as you’d think.
Solution #3. Prepare two or three of the medium-sized bags before you start to pipe the cookies out. This saves a few critical minutes, and also lets you use more than one tip.

Yes, I am overselling the difficulty a bit. Anyone with the right tools and some basic skills won’t find it as challenging as I did. The multiple-bags approach also solves a lot of the problem, and the cookies taste just as good even if the marshmallow cools enough to come out lopsided. Still, forewarned is forearmed. Be ready to pipe as quickly and efficiently as you can; and/or to laugh at your funky shapes.

Problem #3: The Infinite Variations

Continuing the theme from Parts 1 and 2, the marshmallow filling can also be varied in as many ways as your imagination permits. And it’s super simple to do!

So-called “plain” marshmallows are flavored with vanilla extract. An even teaspoon works perfectly at these amounts. “Flavored” marshmallows replace the vanilla with with any extract and/or food color that’s buried in your spice cabinet, and that same 1 tsp. will do the job just as well. Lemon, rose, rum, banana, coffee, mint, almond… there is some place in the world where that flavor of marshmallow is a beloved favorite sold in stores. I recommend some color coding to avoid frowns of confusion, but it really is that easy.

Spices work too but we found that spiced cookie bases were easier to control. Marshmallows have a ton of air, and adding enough spice to provide solid flavor can make them a little gritty.

Fruit flavors are a little different. The extracts work fine for a properly artificial flavor reminiscent of commercial products, but you can also get The Real Thing by making Zefir instead of a classic marshmallow. Talk about intense essence of fruit…! But that’s getting ahead of myself. I moved that discussion to Part 5 for very good reason, and you’ll simply have to wait.

CONCLUSION

It took some serious work and research to nail down the filling part of this cookie, but that really came down to exploring things at the food science level. [It had nothing to do with me being obsessive, no matter what my piping assistants may say!] If you follow the recipe below – either one – you will find it quick, easy, and effective. You’ve got your wheel, and there’s no need to recreate it.

So where are we at?

Make a simple cookie base, flavored in any way you can imagine.
Pick your choice of marshmallow approach, and flavor it with any extract or liqueur in your cabinet by substituting 1:1 for the designated vanilla, and color coding with a touch of food dye.
Pipe your marshmallow creation onto your choice of cookie, using your choice of piping tip.

Bing, bang, boom. You’ve got these Chocolate Covered Marshmallow Treats 70% done. All that remains is coating them in everyone’s favorite darkest-brown food of the gods.

THE CHOCOLATE MARSHMALLOW TREATS SERIES

Part 1, The Chocolate Marshmallow Treat Overview

Part 2, The Cookie Base Options

Part 3, The Marshmallow Filling Options

Part 4, The Chocolate Coating and Finishing Options

Part 5, The Strange New World of Fruit-Based Zefir Marshmallows

VANILLA SNAPS AND WAFERS – a classic cookie and ingredient

The classic, with versions for eating out of hand or for using in other recipes

Here’s another head smacker cookie really should have gone into Volume I but somehow escaped our notice. It came up now in a sideways fashion. We’ve finally gotten around to working on Chocolate Covered Marshmallow Treats. You know that cookie. Everyone does. It’s the one you loved as a child, with a simple cookie base that has marshmallow on top, and is then coated with a thin chocolate shell.

That cookie has scores and scores of different version around the world, but the most common uses some equivalent to a Nilla Wafer^® base. So that meant I should start by making… Doh! I’ve never actually worked up a homemade version of Vanilla Wafers. [Sigh]

The result was all we could have hoped for and more. In fact, we discovered that it isn’t a single cookie. It’s actually three.

Use the full amount of flavor and you’ll get a very pleasant cookie to eat out of hand, that adults will enjoy as much as children.
Use a moderate amount of vanilla, and you’ll make something very close to the commercial product. Just better in every way. Real butter and real love make a real difference. Kate says that toddlers in Prague were fed a similar cookie whenever treats were earned.
Reduce the amount of flavor all the way, and you will get the plain, invisible cookie that’s perfect for all the “other” uses these get purchased for. Banana Pudding; El Cheapo Tiramisu; Chocolate Marshmallow Treats; etc., etc., on and on, and suchforth and suchlike.

As always, skip to the bottom if you only want the recipe

This is a simple cookie, and it’s meant to be a simple cookie, so I’m going to try to keep the discussion brief. There weren’t many issues that needed to be addressed. It was really a matter of focusing on what we wanted the cookie to be.

First the Eggs

I wanted this to be a light, crispy cookie with a fair amount of air, that would taste a little buttery without coming off as rich. Most recipes in our books and online resources called for one whole egg to go with each stick of butter. I tested that, along with one egg white, and one egg yolk.

The whole egg won handily, both for ease and flavor. Yes, you can make a good cookie with both egg white and egg yolk, but the whole egg is simpler and, for this use, better.

Wait; Haven’t We Made This Before?

For crying out loud! Butter cookies. Sugar cookies. Shortbread. Alfajories. Spritz Cookies. Snaps. They’re all pretty much the same, right? Just butter, sugar, flour, starch, and egg in slightly different proportions, plus a hit of flavor. Was this one really different, or just a variation on one of our existing and already-tested recipes?

Well… no. I went back and crunched the numbers. These are in the same family but the proportions are distinct enough to earn their own name. Same for the classic French cookies we plan to work up someday, such as Langue du Chat (“Cat’s Tongues” a/k/a Homemade Milanos^®), and Tuiles. Those use several egg whites to create a different species within the same genus.

What’s In A Name?

All that recipe comparison work did clarify one thing that was bugging me. These are not a “wafer”!

I am a lawyer in my real life, and have been for 30 years. So I can speak for my profession when I tell you that virtually every non-criminal problem I see comes down to a variation on the theme of frustrated expectations. Person X thought s/he deserved or would get an “A,” ended up with a “B”, and grew angry at that result. So Person X goes back to Person Y to complain, “where is my A?”, and the situation then grows worse because Person Y insists that s/he meant “B” all along. And most of the time both interpretations fit the actual words.

The solution? Define your bloody terms so you can at least know where you really disagree! Try it the next time someone wants to argue about politics. “Exactly what do you mean when you use that word?” You’ll be shocked at how much of your fight disappears, or at least settles down to the amicable question of how words ought to be used.

In any case, I have spent a lot of years getting frustrated over that stupidity, in both my profession and in politics, so I get a little [ahem] picky about calling things by their proper names. A “wafer” is an extremely thin, usually broad cookie like our different Snowflake variations, Tuilles, or Lace Cookies. You can get to that result in many different ways, but that’s the definition.

This cookie does not meet that definition, and thus it isn’t a “wafer.” This cookie is a “Snap”. Harrumph.

We define Snaps as any plain, simple, round cookie that features a clear and focused flavor. Cardamom, Anise, and Black Pepper Snaps feature a single spice. Ginger snaps feature a spice mix with a touch of molasses. But that is the family group, and that is where this cookie belongs. Harrumph I say again! And harrumph for good measure. Harrumph. Harrumph. Harrumph!

Alas, but the outside world does foolish things on occasion. Sometimes it will even [gasp!] ignore it when some large company mislabels what ought to be a Snap as a Wafer. And a wise man has to know his limits. So let us agree on a simple formula, okay?

First, I am in the right. Harrumph. And that means the world is wrong. And thus equity, justice, and fair play are unanimously on my side.

Next, I am not being petty no matter what certain females in my household may choose to imply. Nor childish. Not, not, not!

And no, this isn’t a fight I’m going to win. So how about a compromise?

Let’s agree to call the eating version of this cookie a Vanilla Snap. That’s the tasty one with a full tablespoon of vanilla, which is going to make people sit up and say, “I never thought I’d say it, but these things are capital-G Good.” The weaker versions, which are intended for use in other recipes anyway, can be called by that other name for the sake of allowing the rest of the world to save some face.

Back to your regularly scheduled programming.

Confirmed Again: “Other” Starches Work Better Than Corn Starch

Is the cookie better with a bit of gluten-free starch to supplement the flour? Yes, it is. Cake flour might work too, but we didn’t test it.

Would corn starch work? Yes… but it isn’t as reliable as rice flour, tapioca flour, arrowroot, etc., because you’ll occasionally get a less-done piece that leaves a gummy sensation in your mouth. It’s an effect we wrote about in our book Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World. Corn starch breaks down at a higher temperature than those others, and thus cookies made with corn starch are more likely to have leftover “uncooked starch” in the final product. That’s the underlying problem; it was confirmed again in these experiments; and there’s simply no reason to fight the science. Vanilla Snaps cook until the bottoms brown, which gives a margin of error, but why make use of that margin if you don’t have to?

We usually bake with tapioca starch because it is cheap and readily available in large quantities at our local oriental market. We have tested rice flour and arrowroot too, and found them to be identical. We have read that potato starch fits in too. Corn starch is the only one that requires a higher baking temperature.

Would A Drop Cookie Work?

We always prefer to write up drop cookie recipes when possible, just because they’re so much easier for new people. Refrigerator slice-and-bakes come in second, followed by roll-and-cut cookies, and then by ones you pipe out. What was the best way to go for this one?

The answer depended on what we wanted to do with them. Drop cookies worked fine from the baking perspective, but I simply couldn’t get them to come out even enough to use as a consistent base for the other project. So here is my verdict:

If you’re after the eat-out-of-hand Vanilla Snap version, make a simple drop cookie and be done with it. You don’t need to do it that way, but you can. Kate swears that they also came out a little lighter and crispier than the rolled-and-cut version, though I couldn’t tell the difference.
If you’re after a cookie to use in some other role (like the base of a Chocolate Marshmallow Treat), roll them out and use a cookie cutter. These are dead consistent and thus better as an ingredient. The dough is a little on the sticky side, but works fine if you simply dust with flour as needed.
If you’re trying to jazz things up, add a bit of milk to thin the dough out to a batter, and then pipe out something fancy. You could even sprinkle it with a bit of sanding sugar. It ought to work with a spritz gun as well.

Bake Until The Bottoms Are Good And Tan

Part of the flavor in this cookie comes from actual browning on the bottom. Most cookies want to come out of the oven when they’re still pale, and the edges feel barely set. Leave these in for the full 12 minutes, or until you can see browning around the edges.

CONCLUSION

That’s about it. One forgets that plain old vanilla isn’t that plain at all. It’s a really delicious spice, and it fully deserves to be just as celebrated in a Snap Cookie of its very own. They are as “heritage” as you can get, and well worth making.

PUMPKIN PIE SPICED SNICKERDOODLES – The American spice cookie with the American spice mix

Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World contains a whole section on spice cookies, with a long set of recipes for the spice mixes alone. The idea is simple. Find the spice mix you like, acknowledge the regional roots for that combination, and then use the mix willy nilly in refrigerator cookies, snaps, molded cookies, and whatever else you choose to make.

Bing, bang, boom. Simple as can be.

I always forget how good these are until I make them again, and say “Wow.”

America’s signature spice cookie has to be Snickerdoodles, an extremely simple drop cookie made purely with cinnamon. No spice mixes for us! Until the last few decades, that is. Writing in 2021, I can certify that Pumpkin Pie Spice has become an annual harvest event every bit as common as Jack O’Lanterns in the yard. Why fight a good thing? Here is our version of this now-ubiquitous spice blend, along with a variation on our published recipe for Snickerdoodles.

Please Note: We aren’t kidding about the capital-O Opinions that people have on what makes the proper ratio for your spiced sugar coating. Our daughters join me as Even Steven Types. We prefer a 50/50 ratio. Kate, a summa cum laude graduate of the Accent Only School, greatly prefers a 2:1 ratio of sugar to spice. Any more than that leaves bitter notes on her palate. Make a note on your recipe about where you stand.

Enjoy!

Scott and Kate’s Pumpkin Pie Spice Mix

(makes slightly more than ¼ cup = 4⅓ tbsp = 65 ml)

2 tbsp. cinnamon
1 tbsp. ginger (not old)
2 tsp. nutmeg (not old)
1 tsp. ground allspice
1 tsp. ground clove

HONEYCAKE MASTER RECIPE, Balkan Medenjaci, Ukrainian Medivnichky, Russian Pryaniki, etc.

As always, you can skip to the bottom if you’re only here for the recipe.

I began this recipe looking at the Baltic version, and finally realized that Honey Gingerbread a/k/a Honeycakes are a category unto themselves. They’re particularly common in the Slavic nations of Europe’s center (bottom to top) and east. I’ve seen so many other versions from the Czechs, Poles, Russians (and all the ethnic subgroups), the Baltic States, Ukraine, etc… Might the the talented Southern Slav bakers have something really unique?

I pinned those hopes on the simple lack of spice. All those beautiful and famous Honeycakes from the Slavic nations to the north? Czech Pardubice Gingerbread, Polish Pierniczki, etc.? They’re all variations on a basic formula that differ mostly with the use of some subtle and sophisticated spice blend developed by that particular region. Balkan bakers vary their Medenjaci by playing with the structural part of the cookie – particularly when it comes to the use of eggs.

So was it really different? Sort of… but not in some fundamental way. Leaving out the spices works. It yields a relatively pure, easy to access flavor that’s worth the experience. And adding extra egg yolks plays with texture in a radical way that’s almost a revelation. We fully intend to play with it over the next many years. But what you really have here is an expansion kit to the mix-and-match options that all those other recipes have in common too.

In other words, this is an article about pure, baker’s geekery. Read on and you’ll learn how to seize control of that traditional recipe from your Baba, and convert it like a chemist into exactly what you want.

As always, skip to the bottom if all you’re after is the recipe.

The Basic Honeycake Formula

Every one of those famous cookies uses one or more of those variations, so they really do come out as distinct individuals, but the family kinship is there.

Medenjaci differ in two ways. First, they tend to use a much simpler spice mix, and less of it. Two tablespoons in a 3-cup recipe would be a lot, and it is rare to include more than a healthy dose of cinnamon with a touch of ginger, nutmeg, mace, or clove. I suppose you could argue that they tend to be heavier on the citrus too.

The bigger difference is in the eggs. Our recipe adds four(!) egg yolks to the one whole egg, and we aren’t the only ones. Scott compiled the following table of online recipes to provide some idea of both the variations and the consistency.

Flour	Butter	Leavener	Sweetener	Spices	Eggs
5⅔ cup (805 g) mix of AP, Cake & Whole	1 cup	1 tsp. soda	255 g honey 285 g brown	2 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. ginger ½ tsp. clove ½ tsp. nutmeg	3 whole 1 yolk
5¼ cup (750 g) mix of AP, Cake & Whole	1 cup	1 tsp. soda	250 g honey 180 g brown	2 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. ginger ½ tsp. clove ½ tsp. nutmeg	3 whole
4¼ cup (600 g)	¾ cup	1 tbsp. soda	200 g honey 200 g sugar	6 tsp. cinnamon 3 tsp. vanilla	2 whole
3 cups (425 g)	½ cup	1 tsp. soda	170 g honey 70 g brown	1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. ginger ½ tsp. nutmeg ¼ tsp. clove	2 whole 1 yolk
3 cups (425 g)	½ cup	1 tsp. soda	170 g honey 100 g brown	1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. ginger ½ tsp. nutmeg ¼ tsp. clove	2 whole
3 cups (425 g)	½ cup	Pinch soda	225 g honey 100 g sugar	2 tsp. cinnamon 1 tsp. ginger ¼ tsp. cloves ¼ tsp. nutmeg 1 tsp. vanilla	1 whole
2¾ cups (390 g)	None	None	255 g honey 200 g sugar	1 tsp. cinnamon ½ tsp. clove	4 whole
OUR VERSION
3½ cups (500 g)	¼ cup	1 tsp. soda 1 tsp. powder	255 g honey 0-100 g sugar	2½ tsp. cinnamon 1 tsp. ginger ½ tsp. clove ½ tsp. nutmeg Extra as an option	1 whole 4 yolks

Our Version of Medenjaci

Let’s be honest for a moment: we’ve been doing this for a long time, and have a lot of Honeycake (a/k/a honey gingerbread) recipes. All this research said two things: Medenjaci were pretty middle-of-the-road from a flavor point of view, but some of the recipes used extra eggs to create really unique textures. That led in turn to two options: we could “fix” the spices to make something more appealing to our (admittedly) Northern palates, or we could embrace the egg-centric approach and see how far it could go.

We went with the latter. So let it be said up front. Our version of Medenjaci is dead-on true to what you’d find in Belgrade, Zagreb, or Sarajevo from the flavor point of view, and on the cakier side from the textural perspective.

The result is a cookie that comes off as a light, honey-centric gingerbread with a rounded flavor and a chewy, meaty texture like nothing else in our repertoire. Easy to like, hard to hate, and really entertaining if you happen to be a baking nerd.

A Final Note: Looks Can Be Deceiving

Yes, the photos look like Pfeffernusse, the famous Dutch/German cookie. And yes, Pfeffernusse are a honey-spice cookie. But that is where the similarities end. A good half the bulk of Pfeffernusse comes from almond or hazelnut meal, which is often combined with chopped softer nuts such as walnuts or pecans. They also have a bare minimum of leavening (¼ tsp. of baking soda), and are bound by two whole eggs. That combines to give them a nut-cake texture, and often a crispy one because many people prefer to add a few minutes to the baking time. Medenjaci? No nuts at all, just flour; half the amount of butter; and much more in the way of leavening and eggs. They may look alike, but no one would ever confuse the two after even a single bite.

FRISIAN THUMB COOKIES (Fryske Dúmkes)

A buttery, hazelnutty, spice cookie dunker from the Netherlands’ Viking province that has become our new favorite to pair with a cup of good coffee.

It’s been a busy few weeks and that’s cut into cookie testing, but to be entirely honest the delay also comes from my perpetual fidgeting with a new recipe for the Ultimate Butter Cookie. Another batch or two and I’ll have it out… but all of that is just an explanation for why I’m now publishing something totally different. [Talk about a teaser!]

That butter cookie comes from the Middle East, so I wanted to go back to Europe for a break. Clearing my head for the final assault on the ramparts, as it were. I keep an ongoing “cookies to test” list, so I pulled that out and asked Kate to choose one that caught her eye. She marked off a few possibilities and then paused.

“Frisian Thumbs? What in the world?”

I smiled. “Top 10 on the great names list, right? It’s a Kate Cookie too – they describe it as a dunker made with a lot of hazelnuts and some spice. Butter too, I’m afraid.”

She asked to see the initial recipe I’d downloaded, approved both the idea and the incursion into her monthly butter allowance, and then waved me away to work some magic. Magic done; mischief managed. This is a good one.

As usual, I’m about to run long with the full description of the whys, wherefores, and what-abouts. Skip to the bottom if you’re only here for the recipe.

Getting the process started

By this point I have a pretty well established pattern for working on new cookies. I usually find them in the first place by wandering through the Wide World of Google doing searches like, “regional cookies of [This Place]” or “local baking traditions of [That One].” E-tourism, cookie style. Potential targets pop up in various locations: regional promotion sites, historians looking through an oddball lens, memoirs from tourists, émigré groups sharing memories, other bakers, etc. I mark down the names, look up the recipes, pick an example for the files, and then put it on the “cookies to test” list with a brief description for later.

When it’s time to look deeper – now, in the case of Frisian Thumbs – I go to the next level in two different ways. First there’s the recipe. I start on that by searching out every possible version the Internet contains. This gives a firm idea of the parameters, from which I’ll write something up using round figures and my experience with other projects.

Then there’s the heritage part. That also begins with the Internet, but then moves on to a search for actual humans who know the cookie, and can provide some context. Those two steps provide the raw ingredients: a recipe to work from, and a heritage to explore. And the follow up question: How did these two meet and marry? Which is where the test batches come in, followed by gifts for my sources to sample, and adjustments to account for both my reactions and theirs.

ASIDE: There are few things more satisfying than developing my version of a beloved childhood treat for someone who knew it back in the Old Country. Life doesn’t have many perfect moments. Two strangers exploring a cookie together, on truly neutral ground? That is one.

STEP 1: Creating the initial test recipe

So, off I went and found no less than eleven (11) different recipes, most with photos and descriptions. These taught me a lot about the underlying issues. Here are my notes:

Almost every recipe centered on anise, supported by a background of cinnamon and ginger in roughly equal amounts. What an odd combination! But it works. Taste it in your head and you’ll see.
The hazelnuts bring it all together. Remember to toast them first. No two ways about it.
The cookies bake low and long. 325° for 20 minutes. Interesting.
The recipes are pretty close together after normalizing…

“Are you done yet?” I stop and look up. It’s Kate, back from her writing lair. “Those thumb cookies sounded really good, and I’m going to make a pot of coffee. Any chance you’ll have some ready for me to try?”

My friends, this never happens! Don’t get me wrong. Kate is a certified cookieholic. She’s at least as bad as I am. But her addiction gets triggered by proximity. See cookie; snitch cookie; savor cookie; repeat. I’m the one who gets entranced by recipes alone. But not this time, apparently. I wasn’t the only one getting hit in the, Oh that sounds good! spot.

I promised to get her something in the next day or two and then went back to my research.

… normalizing to a single stick of butter (½ cup = 115 grams). Which is a surprisingly small amount; most cookies start with two sticks. Hmmm. One stick of butter yields three dozen cookies? Definitely on the small side.
The big difference between the recipes comes down to the amount of flour. Anywhere from 130 grams all the way up to 250. What’s going on? Aha! The ones with more flour have some baking powder added, and the ones with very little look slumped in the photos.
The flour also ties in with eggs. Most of the recipes include an egg on the inside, excluding only the ones with very little flour. The recipes with both an egg and some milk have the most flour. Got it.
But there is not a lot of flour in any of these by the standard of other dunkers! Corsican Canistrelli have a good 50% more in the flour to fat ratio, plus a cup of chestnut flour to push the ratio even further. The hazelnuts in this recipe are chopped, not ground. They won’t act the same. So Frisian Thumbs may be dense, but they shouldn’t be hard, dry, or crispy.
And that flavor profile! Hazelnut, hazelnut, spice, and hazelnut. That’s what we’re after here! No extract, either. Very elegant even if they are kind of plain to look at. One for bakers rather than bakeries.

Time to check in on the heritage part of the equation.

STEP 2: What’s the story behind all this?

I knew going in that the Frisians were a big deal back in the Viking Age. Why would someone name a cookie after their thumbs? It turns out there’s a string of small islands off that coastline called – look at that! – the Frisian Islands, with the modern Netherlands province of Friesland right in the sheltered area behind them. The name “Frisia” goes back to Roman times, but modern Frisians descended from a Viking tribe who settled in the region after a series of environmental disasters had emptied out most of the original inhabitants. These new Frisians (they adopted the name) were closely related to the Angles and the Saxons who settled in England, only to be conquered in 1066 by the even fiercer Norman Vikings who had settled 400 miles further south.

The Frisians who didn’t travel to England with their Anglo-Saxon cousins settled down and became famous for breeding the finest warhorses on the continent. Including, ironically, the mount used by William the Conqueror. Cool! Their descendants maintain a fierce pride about their particular roots, with a regional dialect that is sort of like ancient English mixed with Dutch and German.

There’s no way I was going to find a group of Frisian émigrés here in Pittsburgh! But as it happens, I do know several Dutch bakers through a Facebook group devoted to the molded cookie Speculaas. Thanks go out to one and all. And to Google Translate, since the recipes they pointed me to were written in Dutch, with notes on particular Frisian words.

The material from my online friends brought me up to 14 versions, which led to a modified master recipe while also answering a lot of questions. First, Frisian Thumbs are a true specialty of modern day Friesland, and little known outside its borders. They are not an extension of other Dutch cookies. Second, Frisians are a lot more culturally distinct than Americans would tend to assume. So much so that road signs in the province appear in both Dutch and Fries. Thus it may be inevitable that Frisian bakers will start from normal Dutch ingredients when it comes to flour and sugar (see below), but they wouldn’t be caught dead using a standard spice mix from the store with some extra anise.

Third, the photos make it clear that these cookies are supposed to be small, thick rectangles, not oblong drop cookies. They must have enough flour to more or less hold their initial shape. That evocative description about, “the size of a child’s thumb” actually makes a good deal of sense. Pull out the ruler and… ½” thick x ¾” wide x 1¾” long.

Just roll out a slab and slice to shape. Nothing fancy. This would be the point to put anise seeds on top as fair warning. They are all buried inside this particular dough.

Fourth, not a single one of the Dutch photos contain the thumbprint mark. They’re all plain old rectangles. But I did see several others that had the dent, and you know what? It creates an effect that looks a lot like a thumbnail! I like it.

What’s a thumb without its nail? They are just as tasty plain as they are with the decoration, but it does add a certain distinction. Press the shape in when they are warm and fresh from the oven. I was too eager and got a little burn. Next time I will press in using the tip of a spoon.

Next, I wanted a chewy and somewhat dense texture, but not excessively so. Too much flour, especially with no leavening, would make little bricks. Balance is everything.

Speaking of which, those websites convinced me that balancing the spices had to be job one. Spice cookies are normal for the Netherlands, and don’t raise eyebrows over there like they often do in the U.S. On the other hand, Dutch cooking incorporates a very particular sense of poise and restraint. It shows up on the savory side too. Any cookie that Amsterdam writers would praise as “well rounded” had to be exactly that. So my target was clear: a nut cookie enhanced by anise, rounded out with cinnamon and ginger, chewy but not dense, and ideal when paired with a cup of coffee.

DIGRESSION: A primer on Dutch ingredients

Dutch ingredients can differ a bit from their counterparts here in America. To start with, bakers in the Netherlands have a different type of flour than you find in the U.S. Here in America we grade our flour according to protein content, going from low protein cake flour all the way up to high protein bread flour. On the Continent they grade their flour more by grind size. The best Speculaas, e.g., use something called TIP-00 flour, an Italian product that is ground to a spectacularly fine level “similar to baby powder.” That doesn’t matter for the recipe at hand, but it makes a real difference for a molded cookie where the features are a key difference between good and better.

In this case we need to look at the sugar. U.S. sugar is made by grinding sugar cane to a pulp, extracting the sweet syrup, and then removing the impurities to leave only pure sucrose. Those impurities are sold separately as “molasses.” Mix a generous tablespoon of molasses back into a cup of white sugar, and you get “light brown sugar.” Mix in two tablespoons and you’ll have “dark brown sugar.” Half a tablespoon yields “turbinado sugar.” [NOTE: you technically want to add a little bit more than just 1 tbsp. Hence the word “generous.”]

Not so in the Netherlands. Their basic ingredient comes from sugar beets rather than sugar cane, which creates some differences you’d notice if the two were used side by side. Speculaas use something called “Belgian Brown Sugar,” which is made by taking regular sugar, gently caramelizing a small portion, and then mixing it back in with the white kind. Stella Parks published a great essay and recipe on this at SeriousEats.com if you want to learn more. This goes to the second part. Then there’s a “brown sugar” made by mixing some actual cane molasses into beet sugar; and another “brown sugar” that’s made by mixing in a cooked sugar syrup that Dutch families use on pancakes instead of the U.S. maple syrup. And…

You get the point. The recipes all used “brown sugar,” but those words don’t mean the same thing in the Netherlands as they do in America. Fortunately enough, I’m told by people who have lived on both sides of the pond that these differences are real, but subtle, and not enough to alter the cookie’s character. The recipe you’ll find below starts with white sugar and adds just enough molasses to turn it into turbinado (i.e., identical to splitting the total 50/50 between white sugar and light brown sugar). Add more molasses to taste. That’s a great spot to customize.

STEP 3: Putting it all together to reveal a Heritage Cookie

After all that research, and a second “are we there yet?” episode from my beloved, the final test recipe came together quickly. I stayed up late to make a batch for the morning coffee, went out of the kitchen to head upstairs… and discovered She Who Must Be Obeyed waiting on her reading chair, drawn from her aerie by aromas of cooking hazelnuts, butter, and spice.

“They smell fantastic. Are they ready for testing?”

“It’s a dunker. They’ll be all soft and warm fresh out of the oven. It won’t be a fair way to judge.”

She cocked her head and gave me a look. “How many are there in a recipe?”

“Almost 40 for this batch. They’re actually kind of small.”

“Then there will be plenty left for tomorrow, won’t there?”

“I don’t know. My photographer gets awfully picky…”

“I’m the photographer! If you want to see picky, keep standing there in the way and you’ll learn about picky!”

I am a man. A mere man. I can’t even translate that sentence. I certainly didn’t want to experience it. So I stepped aside. But I spoke up even as I deferred. “I do want to press in the thumbprints, at least on some. Then we can sample any ugly ones.”

And so we did. I burned my thumb. She did not. I will make my thumbprints with the tip of a spoon next time. She will laugh when I do. We both think it’s a great look. And yes, we both had a taste. And then another. They were goooooood.

FOLLOW UP NOTE: This batch produced 39 cookies. We ate two that evening, and Kate put ten aside for the photography. There were exactly 20 left when I put them in a tin for my “get thee out of the house” sharing trip. Cookie gremlins are a thing in this house, and I can’t exactly blame them. Frisian Thumbs are goooooood.

NOTE FROM KATE: Scott is a talented writer of fiction. I categorically deny all of the above. Except the part about Frisian Thumbs being good. No one can deny that.

Final touches

Some cookies take a ton of fidgeting. Others just slide together all on their own. This was one of the latter. They were great warm, and the ones that survived our gremlins were even better the next morning. I’m noshing on some of the rapidly vanishing leftovers even as I type. So there weren’t a lot of changes in this one. But there are a few decision points beyond the recipe that our readers should know about in advance. Knowledge is power, and this way so you can make your own choices.

About the flavor. The first thing you taste is a combination of butter and hazelnut, which changes as the ground spices kick in, and then changes again when you crunch through one of the whole anise seeds. It’s definitely a spice cookie, and definitely a hazelnut cookie, and definitely unique, but at the same time there’s nothing here that is “strange”. We’d have no problem serving this to kids of all ages with no warning other than, “Here’s a cookie you’ve never had before…”
About the anise. No warning unless you dislike anise, that is. Some people don’t. My Dad hated licorice flavor, and our younger daughter is lukewarm at best. This isn’t a cookie for them. No, it isn’t an “anise cookie.” Anise is just a component flavor. But it is a clear and distinct component.
About the whole anise seeds. Whole seeds can get annoying when a hull gets caught in your teeth. It isn’t a big issue, and the whole seeds add a late-hitting pop of flavor that both of us enjoy. Kate would keep them buried inside the dough for the sake of simplicity, but you’ll see that I wrote the recipe in a way that sets half of the seeds aside to be placed on top. I only did it to remind people that the seeds are there, and to expect the occasional chewy bit. Don’t bother if you don’t care.
About the salt. Using the full ½ teaspoon of salt gives this cookie a noticeable kick that I enjoyed, but I also prefer salted nuts over plain for eating out of hand. The salt level might have been a tad too much on some other day. The cookie definitely wants some salt to bring out the nutty flavors, but we recommend that you start at the ¼ teaspoon level and then add more as desired. Make a note of your preference on the recipe.
About the coffee, and the dunking. I have never come across a cookie that pairs better with a cup of coffee. Not ever, anywhere, in any form. It’s almost stunning to write those words, but they are true. At the same time, it really is a “pairing” rather than a case where one side needs the other. Together, they are more than the sum of their parts. But separated they’re still darned good on their own. Frisian Thumbs have enough texture to hold up well as a dunker, but they also have enough moisture and suppleness to eat out of hand. Frisian Thumbs are goooooood.

That’s about it. Sorry to run on so long. This is an easy cookie to fall in love with, and both of us have. Head over heels. Let us know if you feel the same.

Enjoy!

SOUR CREAM MOLASSES SPICE COOKIES – How Could Anyone Forget?

Most of the cookies that Americans would consider ‘obvious’ and ‘normal’ made their way into the original Heritage Cookies of the Old and New World. We are, after all, Americans. That is our world view, like it or not, so the things that have become traditional for the U.S. qualify by definition. But every so often you hit one of those “Doh!” moments when you’re reminded of a recipe everyone knows, that somehow slipped through all nets to lie there waiting for Volume II.

Case in point: Sour Cream Molasses Spice Cookies.

The moment happened in this case when a Facebook friend published an odd version of Speculaas – the great Dutch molded cookie – that included sour cream in the dough. Sour cream is a uniquely American ingredient, created in the U.S. as a version of Europe’s crème fraiche that could be produced on an industrial scale. She wrote that the recipe came from family friends who presumably brought the recipe back to Europe after visiting the States; reverse immigration at its best!

We’ll probably work up a version of that recipe for some future article, but the important thing here was Scott’s reaction: “Oh, I know where that comes from; this is that soft molasses spice cookie we had growing up… DOH!!”

There’s really not much more to say. This is a cookie you knew as a child; as warm, comforting, and familiar as Grandma’s lap. It’s a classic American drop cookie, made extra tender and pillowy by the addition of a little sour cream, and interesting by the addition of some sweet gingerbread spices. Bing, bang, boom: done. They really are just that easy.

There are only two notes we’d like to emphasize before closing. First, please customize these by using your favorite spice mix. We went with our Speculaas mix for the recipe in deference and thanks to Hayden for bringing the memory back to life, but the cookie will work just as well with anything that suits your particular, mood, taste, and spice cabinet. Pumpkin pie spice; classic. Apple pie spice; classic. Your mother’s gingerbread mix; classic. Just make it balanced, and maybe weighted a little bit toward the cinnamon since this is, after all, an American cookie and we are obsessed by that particular spice in our baking.

Second, have a source ready to receive your largess because these things won’t last in the house. They are high powered, superconducting hand magnets, and once the cookie reaches your fingers, you know where it is going to end up. On the plus side, this is also a perfect way to get the children in your life started on a lifelong enjoyment of the wonderful world of spiced breads, cakes, and other treats. And to teach them basic courtesy. “Please” and “thank you” are easy concepts to learn when there are cookies in the jar.

Enjoy!