Vanilla-Maple Butter Cookies

When great chefs are interviewed, they often recall that as children, they were always helping out in the kitchen. They wanted to learn, experiment, and become familiar with that mysterious act of creating good food from everyday ingredients. It is then telling that when I was a child, I had little to no desire to learn to cook. I was a bit more interested in being a part of the baking process, but even then I'd mostly stir something for two minutes and then get tired of it and revert back to my default "Call me when it's done" self.

Yes, I confess, I have few memories of actively wanting to bake when I was very young. I do, however, distinctly recall every mention of a baked good in the books I read. Those were always my favorite parts of the stories, and twenty-some years later, they're pretty much all I remember. In Frances Hodgson Burnett's "A Little Princess," I got my greatest thrill when the poor protagonist finds some money in the street and uses it to buy fresh, sweet rolls from a bakery nearby, only to give them to a little homeless girl (now that's willpower!). In "Curious George Flies a Kite," I remember absolutely nothing of the kite-flying -- instead, I remember being furious when George decides to go fishing and uses pieces of chocolate cake for bait. What a waste of cake!

Perhaps the most well-known baked-sweet story to people of my age was, of course, "If You Give A Mouse A Cookie." Although I loved the circuitous tale of the very demanding rodent who inexplicably wears very tiny suspenders, some part of me would have been perfectly content if the story were shorter and more realistic. Now, when I say "realistic," I do not mean something like, "If you give a mouse a cookie...... he is going to bring in one thousand of his friends and relations and eat you out of house and home." No, I was never that logical. But from time to time, I'd let my brain wander and imagine how the story would unfold if I had written it my way -- though I could never quite decide how it would end.

So although I was not kitchen-precocious, it seems that my love for baking has always existed, even before I was aware of it. More often than not, when I'm quiet and put on my thinking face, I'm pondering what sort of things I can bake in the few hours I have between coming home from work and going to bed. Or, as in the recipe below, wondering how to transform the memory of a delicious ice cream cone enjoyed in Quebec (vanilla ice cream with swirls of maple in a chocolate-dipped cone with nuts) into a cookie. I ended up deciding to omit the chocolate, for fear that it would dominate the delicate caramelized flavor of the cookie, and I think it was the right choice. The resulting cookie is extraordinarily buttery and, when baked until just golden, delightfully crisp. Perfect for accompanying milk, vanilla ice cream, tea, or just plain.

The young me probably would have scoffed at the idea of eating a maple cookie (unless there was a pancake cookie to accompany it), and would almost certainly have scoffed at the idea of spending time to make one. But that's one of the joys of growing up -- things that were once fuzzy become clear. Because now that I'm older, I have finally figured out how the story would have played out if I had written it. It would've gone something like this:

"If you give a mouse a cookie .... he will live happily ever after."
[The End]

Vanilla-Maple Butter Cookies

Adapted from Alice Medrich's butter cookie recipe in her book, "Cookies and Brownies"

Ingredients:

16 TBS unsalted butter, softened
~ 1 1/8 cup maple sugar (pricey, but worth it -- can be found at Whole Foods Market)
3/4 cup pecans, chopped
the contents of 1 vanilla bean, scraped out with a sharp knife
1/2 tsp. salt
2 cups flour
a bit less than 1/4 cup large maple sugar granules (can also be found at Whole Foods -- not the chunks, just bigger than the fine-ground sugar)

Directions:
1. In a large bowl, beat butter until smooth using wooden spoon.
2. Cream butter, maple sugar (the finely ground one, 1 1/8 cup), salt, and vanilla until smooth and creamy but not fluffy, using a wooden spoon.
3. In a separate medium-sized bowl, sift flour using a wire whisk. Add large maple sugar granules and pecan pieces, and mix further using the whisk.
4. In 3 parts, slowly combine the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients with the wooden spoon, until just incorporated. [This may take a bit of effort.]
5. On a clean surface or a large piece of plastic wrap, knead the dough a couple of times to make sure it's smooth and combined.
6. Divide the dough in half and shape each half into a round log, ~ 2 inches in diameter. Wrap each log separately in plastic wrap. Chill for at least 3 hours, preferably overnight.

-- When you're soon going to be ready to bake --

7. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. If you want a lighter cookie, bake ~12-14 minutes, or until light brown at the edges. If you want a more caramelized cookie, bake a few minutes longer, keeping a watchful eye to make sure they don't burn, until they turn a bit golden and your kitchen smells so mapley that you become convinced you've been magically transformed into a waffle.

Yield: ~ 40 cookies

Orange Hazelnut Biscotti

There are two kinds of picky eaters. The first kind will give most anything a try, but will only enjoy a very small percentage of tastes and textures. Sometimes they can help it, sometimes they can't -- genetics often makes people predisposed to disliking sweeping categories of food, such as with the elusive Supertaster. But whatever the reason, hey, at least they tried.

The second kind of picky eater, however, can definitely help it. People might call them picky, but the truth is, they just won't try anything that doesn't appeal to them. Sometimes it's the visual cues, sometimes it's the smell, and occasionally it's even post-traumatic food disorder when you once tried something that looked good but turned out to be awful (flashback to me being 6 years old and biting into a piece of radish in a salad that I mistook for an apple). The details vary, but the general idea is always the same -- some part of you is afraid. And unless you're prone to food allergies, it's usually without reason.

This is all a preface to the admission that I was, of course, a picky eater -- the second (and in my opinion, worst) kind. I had numerous rules, which were entirely self-created, since my parents and sister were adventurous eaters and the food we enjoyed both inside and outside the house was quite varied. Rule number one: nothing green. I cringe thinking of my faithful execution of this rule, including the way I would avoid the floating chopped scallion in Chinese noodle soup dishes that I realize today gives it extra flavor. Rule number two: nothing with a funny texture. Mushrooms were out of the question, and for years I would only eat the outside of steamed chiasiu bau and never touch the sweet, delicious pork inside. Rule number three: nothing that resembles something I already know I dislike.

It was because of this last fateful rule that poor hazelnuts got a bad rap in my twisted little brain. If you'd asked me what I didn't like about the taste, I couldn't tell you because I'd never try them -- but they closely resembled garbanzo beans in color and shape. So ix-nay on the azelnuts-hay.

Looking back now, I'm happy to say I grew out of all that nonsense. I suspect, however, that if I'd had a taste of these Orange Hazelnut Biscotti, my whole world view would've changed -- I could've skipped through that whole stupid picky phase.

This is the result of clever juxtaposition of several recipes, thanks to my mom. The recipe yields a crunchy, slightly crumbly texture (which I love, but just reduce the amount of hazelnut meal if you don't like it that way) and a delicious citrusy flavor on the nutty-but-not-bitter hazelnut backdrop. My mom drizzles them with melted semi-sweet chocolate, but I actually enjoy them plain.

Orange Hazelnut Biscotti

2 cups whole hazelnuts, roasted and skins rubbed off
½ cup additional whole hazelnuts, roasted and skins rubbed off
2 1/2 cups flour
1-1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/8 teaspoon salt
2/3 cups unsalted butter, slightly softened
1 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs
¼ teaspoon vanilla extract
1-1/2 teaspoons orange extract
1 tablespoon grated orange peel

2 squares semi-sweet chocolate for drizzling, if you so choose

Directions:

Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Take 2 TBS of the 1 cup sugar, and combine it with the separated 1/2 cup of hazelnuts in a food processor. Process on the pulse setting until you've got hazelnut meal -- the nuts should be ground very small, but not so small as to be the consistency of dust. Be careful not to overpulse, or you may end up with hazelnut butter.

Combine flour, the newly created hazelnut meal, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In a separate bowl combine butter and sugar (the 1 cup minus 2 TBS). Beat until well blended. Add eggs, orange peel, orange extract and vanilla and beat until light and fluffy.
Gradually beat in half of dry ingredients. Stir in remaining flour mixture. Add nuts.

Divide dough in half. Shape each half into a log about 11 inches long and 2 inches in diameter. (Easier to shape by rolling in wax paper and rolling directly onto baking sheet.)

Place logs on greased baking sheet (or baking sheet lined with parchment paper) as far apart as possible. Flatten slightly.

Bake for 25 to 28 minutes. Let stand until completely cool (about 30 minutes). Cut logs diagonally into half-inch slices using sharp knife.

Lay slices flat on baking sheet and return to oven and toast for 5 to 7 minutes. Turn over slices and bake 4 to 5 minutes on second side, cooking for additional time as needed (you'll need to play this by ear -- just make sure they're not raw in the middle). Cool on wire racks.