The Birthday Box

When my son was about 3, and my mom first moved to town, they had an intense discussion about birthday planning.  I'm not even sure who the proposed party was for, but they were making a list of what they would need for the next day.

My son:  Streamers!

My mom:  OK.  What else?

My son:  Balloons!  And confetti!

My mom:  That sounds good.

My son:  And could it be in the morning?

My mom:  Well, I'm not sure...

My son:  Nobody wants to wait for their party.  You want to wake up and have it first thing!  Don't you want that on your birthday?

My mom:  Now that you mention it, I would like that.  I would like that very much.  Let's do it!

So they did.  They decorated our little family room, the two of them.  There were balloons. And confetti.  They strung a "Happy Birthday" banner across the window, and draped streamers along the guinea pigs' cage.   The doors to the room were closed, and when the birthday person woke up, my son excitedly led the celebrant in there and everyone screamed "Happy Birthday" really loud, put music on** and danced around in their pajamas.  Best of all, there was ice cream and cake, with a candle in it, for breakfast*.   It was brilliant. 

Ever since then, at our house, you get that party for your birthday.

First thing.

Celebrating his 5th birthday with his Aunt.  PJ's?  Check!

All you need to make the party is in the Birthday box.   

Most items have been in there for years.  A Happy Birthday banner made of colored foil letters, now with wads of leftover tape stuck the the H and the Y.   A roll of streamers***.  Candles of all shapes and sizes.   Packs of confetti.  A plastic Winnie-the-Pooh holding a bunch of balloons.    Wooden numbers for the cake****, to show how old you are.  

And silver rings for decorating the room.   Mom made these by hand one year, out of a roll of  ribbon she got on sale at the Hallmark store in her mall.  She painstakingly cut the ribbon into equal sized pieces, then taped them into interlocking rings, like kids do for projects at preschool with construction paper.   She made yards of these dazzling silver chains, and the guinea pigs were upgraded from crepe paper to these sparkling ornaments.  

My son turned 15 yesterday.  The night before, I went into the garage, and got out the Birthday box.   The silver rings cascaded onto the floor, and I burst into tears.  There were the streamers.  The confetti.  The candles.  The worn out banner waiting to be taped up to the window one more time.  Everything I needed to make the party.

Except Mom.

* Some years, there was bacon and eggs too, or cheese sandwiches cut into heart shapes, or buttered toast.   It is the most important meal of the day, after all.

** Stevie Wonder's Happy Birthday!

*** These do double duty as a source of confetti.  Mom hated paying for confetti, unless it was special occasion confetti, so she'd just cut up the crepe paper streamers into little pieces for birthdays.   Special occasion confetti is mini footballs for Super Bowl, or silver snowflakes for Christmas.  That she'd splurge on, but only if it was on sale.   She also used it very sparingly, so we have plenty in the Box.

*** Or the fruit snacks, the cupcakes, the Krispy Kremes...whatever your birthday treat of choice is.  My son was definitely missing his grandma, too. His choice this year was Barnaby Day Cookies, with vanilla ice cream.  

Barfly

In another of our occasional forays into the wonderful world of vocab, today on Cheesy Pennies we examine the word "Barfly", and whether it could be an appropriate term for yours truly.

bar·fly/ˈbärˌflī/

Noun: A person who spends much time drinking in bars

Strictly speaking, this is not me.
I spend very little time drinking in bars.
I drink in my house*.
But I do spend much time baking up bars.
Does that count?

I think yes**.

This round is on me.  I'll make it a double.

Peanut Butter Fudge Bars
Adapted from the Simply Scratch blog.  Her step by step photos? Mesmerizing. I drool over most of the things posted there***, but this particular recipe haunted me.  Not for myself, but for my peanut-butter-and-chocolate-loving sister.   I thought it was my duty to make them on her behalf****.  Let's just say that in this case, doing good was its own reward.  Imagine that you took the best peanut butter cookie dough you ever had, packed it in tight, so it was super dense, almost like fudge, then baked it just a little, so it wasn't quite a cookie yet but was definitely not raw, and had a bit of a crispy top and some crunchy edges on it.  Got that?  Now, slather on a layer of soft, dark chocolate.  See?  You're probably falling off your barstool right now, just thinking about it.

For the bars:
1 c. butter
1/2 c. smooth peanut butter
1/2 c. chunky peanut butter
1 c. brown sugar, packed
1/2 c. sugar
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. flour
3/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda

For the chocolate ganache topping:
4 oz. semi sweet chocolate (I used mini chocolate chips)
1/2 c. heavy cream

Preheat oven to 350, and butter a 9 inch square baking pan.  Set aside.

Using a stand mixer or a food processor, combine the butter, peanut butters, sugars and vanilla until smooth and creamy.   Whisk together the flour, salt, baking powder and baking soda, then slowly mix into the peanut butter mixture, just until combined.

Press dough into prepared pan with your fingers.  Don't worry if it's not perfectly even...it will smooth out as it bakes.  Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until top is golden brown.  Remove from oven and allow to cool.   As it cools, the middle will sink.  Fear not!  This is exactly what should happen.  Because there are no eggs in the recipe, the dough only rises a bit as it bakes, and will condense as it cools, creating that intense, fudgy texture that makes these so rich and addictive.   It will also create a nice cozy area in the middle for the chocolate to go into, and leave a tasty cookie border around the edges of the pan.

To make the ganache, you'll need the chocolate to be chopped into small pieces if you aren't using chocolate chips.   Place the chopped chocolate into a medium bowl and set aside.   Heat the cream in a small saucepan, just until it begins to simmer.  Immediately pour the hot cream over the chocolate, and allow to sit for a few minutes so the chocolate will melt.   Whisk the mixture for several minutes until it is completely smooth and shiny.   Cool for just a bit more, then pour over the prepared bars.  Smooth out over the bars by tilting the pan from side to side, or by using a spatula. Place the pan in the fridge for 30 minutes to an hour to allow chocolate to set.

Cut into small squares, and serve.

Click to Print this recipe!

Crispy Caramel Chocolate Truffle Shortbread Bars 
Once again, this illustrates the beauty and the danger of drinking at home instead of at a bar:  You can read other people's blogs while you do it.   That's how I discovered these decadent little numbers, recipe adapted from A Southern Grace.    In a nutshell, it's shortbread.  With a gooey-chewy-sticky chocolate middle.  And crunchy-nutty-salty-caramel stuff on top.    Lord, those people in the South sure do have a way with desserts!*****

For the shortbread layer:
2 c. flour
1/2 c. sugar
1/4 tsp. salt
1 c. butter, cold and diced

For the chocolate truffle layer:
1 c. light corn syrup
1 1/4 c. semi-sweet chocolate chips
1 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
4 eggs
1 tsp. vanilla

For the crunchy caramel topping:
3/4 c. butter, melted
1/4 c. corn syrup (dark or light)
3/4 c. brown sugar, packed
1/4 tsp. salt
1 c. quick-cooking (not instant) oatmeal
1/2 c. finely chopped, lightly toasted pecans

Preheat the oven to 350.  Butter a 13x9 baking pan.

To make the shortbread, combine flour, sugar and salt in a food processor and pulse until combined.  Add butter, and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.   Don't worry, it's not supposed to form a ball of dough.  Turn the crumbly mixture out into the prepared pan, and use your hands to press into a single layer.  Now it looks like dough!  Bake for 18-20 minutes, or until the edges are just beginning to turn brown.

Meanwhile, make the chocolate layer.  Combine corn syrup and chocolate chips in a microwave safe bowl, and zap for a minute or two, or until chips have melted.  Whisk the mixture together until smooth, let cool, then add the sugar, salt, eggs and vanilla.  Beat on medium speed with an electric mixture to combine.  Pour over prepared crust, and bake for 27 minutes, or until outer edges are firm and center is only a little bit jiggly.

While the filling bakes, prepare the topping.  Place all of the ingredients to a medium mixing bowl, and stir with a wooden spoon until combined.   When the bars come out of the oven, allow the pan to cool for 10 minutes, then drop spoonfuls of the topping onto the chocolate layer.   Carefully spread evenly, to completely cover the pan.  Return to the oven for another 25 minutes, or until just set.

Allow bars to cool for at least an hour.  Cut into squares and serve!

Click to Print this recipe!

* It is cheaper, easier, and infinitely more comfortable.  I don't have to wear shoes.  The company is excellent.  The bartender knows exactly how much lime to put in my cocktail and is extremely liberal with the gin.  And they stock the good stuff.
** Although a more appropriate name might be...

bar·tend·er/ˈbärˌtendər/

Noun: A person who mixes and serves drinks at a bar.

...since there was definitely mixing involved and I served both of these bars to a very appreciative set of customers this weekend.  Maybe they're the barflies!
*** Drooling is also a noted characteristic of the barfly.
**** Because I'm a barfly with a heart of gold.
***** Must be all that bourbon givin' them the inspiration.

The Return of Barnaby Day

Transitions are hard.

When you are five, and start a brand new school with all new kids and a new teacher and a new lunchbox at a new place with a new play structure and much higher basketball hoops, it's all very exciting, of course.  But it's also very stressful.

When you are five, you cannot make yourself a stiff gin and tonic when you get home, or strap on your boxing gloves and punch the living daylights out of something during kickboxing class*.

But you might just be lucky enough to have Barnaby Day.

Every Friday afternoon, for a few hours after school during that first year of kindergarten, my son and a bunch of friends from preschool would come over for a playdate at our house. They'd run around, getting wet in hoses, acting like pirates, playing hide and seek, shooting marbles, building train tracks, climbing in the tree house, and generally going bananas with the relief of making it through another week. The parents all chipped in a few bucks to have the kids' favorite Pre-K teacher show up to play with them.  Barnaby, a 20-something transplant from Britain, had a wacko sense of humor, hair that was constantly falling over his eyes, a ukelele, and a million ideas for crazy games. Having this icon of coolness and fun all to themselves was akin to us getting Bono to stop by the family BBQ. They couldn't believe their luck.

Little did they know just how lucky they were. The other person who was there, every week, like clockwork, was Mom.  She's the one who named the reunion free-for-all, "Barnaby Day".  She collected and paired up the muddy shoes, and stacked backpacks and lunch boxes neatly by the front door.  She knew everyone's names, gave each child a high-five when they arrived, asked about their new schools and got them some juice.  "Sharon," she'd say, smiling at me as she gazed at the mob taking over the living room, "you are doing such a nice thing for them.   Just look how happy they are!"

Then she'd start the oven, and make cookies.   Every week, the same cookies.   Because when you are five, there is enormous comfort in routine**.  In knowing that, even when so much around you is new and changing and different, Friday afternoon is coming.  You can count on it.

Transitions are hard.

When you are forty-six, and have your first Mother's Day without a mom, when Maria and Arnold are breaking up without a divorcee in Burbank scanning the tabloids, fretting, and hoping they can work it out, and when you board a plane and realize no one is sitting in an apartment praying fervently that a deranged person won't start pounding on the cockpit door during your flight, it's not exciting at all.  It's very stressful.

I'll have a stiff gin and tonic tonight.  I'll punch something during kickboxing class.  And I'll make a big batch of Barnaby Day Cookies***.  You can count on it.

Barnaby Day Cookies
These are ridiculously simple, but crazily addictive.  You know that commercial where they say, "You can't eat just one."?    It's about these cookies.   They're thin and flat, deliciously crispy and buttery around the edges, with melt-in-your mouth soft, chewy, caramel-flavored middles.   The secret?  The ratio of butter to sugar to flour in her recipe is skewed HEAVILY in favor of the butter and sugar. As it should be whenever comfort food is involved.

1 c. butter, softened
1 c. sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
2 eggs
2 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. flour
1/2 tsp. salt
1/8 tsp baking soda

Preheat oven to 350, and line a baking sheet with a silicon baking mat.  Combine butter, sugars, eggs and vanilla at low speed with an electric mixer.   Add the dry ingredients, and continue mixing on low speed until combined.   Dough will be very soft.  Drop by rounded spoonfuls onto prepared baking sheets.   Bake for 12 minutes.

Allow to cool for a minute, then transfer to cooling rack.   Eat as soon as your fingers can stand the heat, while they are still almost bendy in your hand.  Or, cool a bit more, put on a round plate with a train in the middle and serve to the pack of kindergarteners in the back yard.

Click to print this recipe!

* You can punch the living daylights out of your little sister.   Without gloves.  Then she gets stressed out, but you feel a lot better.
** Not to mention that the kids LOVED these cookies.  Parents, too.  One dad walked in the door every week, headed straight for the cookie plate, and ate about five before he even started looking for his kid.  I think he would have proposed marriage if he could.

*** Mom made these so often, and with so many variations (when we were dieting, she added raisins, because they are fruit, and when we were celebrating, sprinkles, because they are fun), that I assumed I could just whip them up from memory whenever I wanted.

I was wrong.  I tried them with one egg. I tried them with two.  With extra brown sugar.  With a little less flour.  The now-nearly grown son faithfully tried every batch and looked wistful and sad with each bite.   He'd shake his head:  They're good, Mom.  But they're not Grandma's cookies.

I became strangely desperate, almost frantic.  I felt compelled to have these for real, not just as a memory like everything else.   At last, I tracked down the recipe in a friend's seven year old copy of a spiral-bound school cookbook.   When they came out of the oven, even before the first bite,  we all started dancing around the kitchen and screaming, "These are them!  These are them!"

Like a bunch of crazy five year olds.

We had Barnaby Day back.  We hadn't lost everything after all.

Sophisticated Shorty

Apparently, "shorty" is now:

An affectionate term for a girlfriend, attractive female or concubine*.
Sample usage: "Yo shorty, it's your birthday".

I find this to be completely offensive to women in general, and attractive concubines in particular.  So I'm going to reclaim the term, and elevate it.  Henceforth, shorty is:

An affectionate term for a sweet biscuit, luscious summer fruit, and fresh whipped cream.  
Sample usage:  "Yo shorty, pass the shorty".

Bittersweet Chocolate Strawberry Shorty
Adapted from a contribution by Govind Armstrong to the Great Gatherings cookbook.  Based on the photo alone, I was dying to try it, but had to wait for berry season to come around again.   At last, the time had come.  I decided to pit this version against my tried and true recipe**, bringing both to friend's house for dinner tonight. The verdict?  This new shorty was dark, elegant, and utterly sophisticated.   The biscuit was deeply chocolate, only slightly sweet, and offset the strawberries and cream beautifully.   This is a dessert that cries out to be consumed by candlelight with an espresso and an intense conversation about contemporary architecture.  It's damn good, but it's completely different from the lazy, homey, summertime pleasure that the traditional shorty delivers every time.  

Yo.  I'm a play-ah.  I had one of each.

1 c. flour, plus extra for prepping biscuits
1/2 c. sugar, plus extra for dusting
1/4 c. good quality unsweetened cocoa powder (I used Valhrona)
1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. baking soda
pinch of salt
1/2 c. good quality bittersweet or semi sweet chocolate chips (I used bittersweet)
1 c. heavy cream
About 2 Tbs. unsalted butter, melted
Strawberries and fresh whipped cream, prepared according to my original recipe.

Preheat oven to 375.  Cover a baking sheet with a silicon mat and set aside.

In the bowl of a food processor, place flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking powder, baking soda, and salt and pulse well until combined.   Add the chocolate chips, and pulse a couple of times.   With machine running, pour in the cream, and then pulse until dough comes together.  It will be very sticky.  You'll notice this recipe has no cold butter or shortening, like a more traditional biscuit dough does.   Somehow it works!

Turn the dough out onto a well floured board, and, using your hands, gently pat into a rectangle about 3/4 inch high.  Don't knead or otherwise work the dough.  Using round or square cutter, cut out biscuits and place onto your prepared baking sheet.  Gather scraps and use up remaining dough.

Brush tops of biscuits with melted butter, and sprinkle with sugar.   Bake for 12 minutes, or until firm to the touch.   These will not rise up very much, but don't worry.  There's so much flavor in them that you don't want them to be super thick.    Allow to cool.   At this point, you can keep these for several hours, or overnight, in an airtight container before serving.

Split biscuits with a sharp knife.  Spoon a generous portion of strawberries onto the bottom portion, add a big dollop of whipped cream, and finish with the top biscuit.   Serve immediately.

* I checked UrbanDictionary.com, just to make sure.   It's true.  Even worse, it's often spelled "S-H-A-W-T-Y."  Good lord.
** Given how fancy the chocolate version was, I simplified the original recipe by substituting orange zest for the lemon zest, and leaving out the thyme.  I also used 1 c. of cake flour for part of the all purpose flour, just to try it, and loved how tender the biscuits came out.

Foodie Girls Lunch Brigade - Episode 24

That Sam I Am.
That Sam I Am.
I do not like that Sam I Am.

-- Dr. Seuss



That Bua Siam.
That Bua Siam.
We really like that Bua Siam.

-- The Foodie Girls

Episode 24 - We would eat this Here or There.  We would eat this Anywhere.

After a too-long hiatus, where were were forced to dine in the company of spouses, children, in-laws, workmates and random people at the Sherman Oaks In N Out* for several months, the FG's were reunited this week. And it felt so good.  Five of us converged on a nondescript strip mall in at the intersection of Sherman Way and Coldwater Canyon, deep in the flats of the Valley. Bua Siam beckoned.

Well, not exactly beckoned. The place is not much to look at from the outside.

Somehow knowing that we could get a dental implant, should things go terribly wrong, was not the comfort it should have been.  But we did have FG14's fervent endorsement that this was her favorite Thai place in town, and if my one dinner here was any indication, the woman was definitely onto something**.

The first indication came as soon as we opened the door. The dusty chaos of the neighborhood was gone, and we were in a quiet oasis of clean white walls, hung with small, framed photos of colorful Thai landscapes. Simple blond wood tables with tiny flowering plants, a chalkboard hung with the day's specials, and light streaming into the room brought an immediate sense of calm and anticipation.  Before you even sat down, it felt like you never wanted to leave.

The menu, full of delectable sounding choices, was both exciting and daunting, particularly since we were all starving and "one of everything" was just not practical***.  Fortunately, I was armed with a cheat sheet from FG14, and the group soon agreed to pretty much order everything on her list. Papaya salad with crispy catfish. Crab meat fried rice. Fried Tofu. Spicy noodles with beef and peppers, and Chinese broccoli with chilis.  

The fried rice arrived first.  Note the generous chunks of fresh lump crabmeat in this photo, and you'll have some sense of the richness of this dish. If you are a crab lover, you will literally swoon over this at first bite.  Moist, with just a few little caramelized bits, it's studded with a lovely combination of that sweet crabmeat, tangy scallions, eggs, and perfectly cooked rice.  It was a little too salty for some, but I ate every last bit on my plate.

The fried tofu plate arrived next, with billowy, perfectly golden pillows of the lightest-textured tofu I'd ever tasted.  It must have been flash fried incredibly quickly, as each bite almost melted in your mouth, without any trace of greasy flavor or oily taste.  The bright red dipping sauce was sour and sweet, laced with a few herbs and some finely ground peanuts, for crunch.  Heavenly!  Like the fried rice (and the rest of the plates here), the portion size was beyond generous, more than enough for five hungry FG's to eat their fill.

We'd ordered the beef flat noodles "medium" spicy. Reaching for her water glass and fanning her hand in front of her mouth, FG6 wheezed the question that was on all of our minds. "This is medium?"  A minute later she went back for more. So did I. The noodles, like the rice, were a great combination of slightly crispy pan-fried parts and soft, chewy parts, in a sauce that managed to be both light and satisfyingly hearty at the same time.  The beef could have been more tender, but the flavors were all there, and the colorful peppers and greens were perfectly crisp-tender and utterly delicious.

We doubled down on the Chinese broccoli, and were so glad we did! Starring in it's own dish, the vegetable was one of our collective favorites. Like the other things we ordered, the flavor and freshness of the main ingredient just shone through, enhanced, instead of dominated, by the delicate oyster sauce.  

And now, take a look at the papaya salad.

No, I didn't accidentally put in a shot of a giant loofa.  That's the crispy catfish!!  The people who fry things here are magicians, I kid you not. This airy miracle is shatteringly crisp, again without a lick of greasy flavor, only faintly fishy, and so much fun to eat. Underneath is a tangy, spicy version of green papaya salad, with that great balance of vinegar and sugar, slippery, cool, noodle-like papaya, chili flakes and roasted peanuts.  Putting that together with the crunchy fish topping makes each bite better than the next.  Like the noodles, "medium" here is nothing to mess with, but who cares. It's amazing. Go there.  Order this.

In between "mmm"s and "ooh"s and "pass the broccoli"s, we caught up, laughed a lot, and thoroughly relaxed.   We cleaned our plates and ordered dessert****, although we were full.  When the bill came, the crew was astonished at the final tab (it was low!), and the time (it was late!).

As a FG reunion, we couldn't have asked for a better lunch.

FG Final Verdict:  Bua Siam is ON the list!
Pricing Information:  Most dishes $8-10, lunch specials $4.99, our cost per person, including tax and tip, was $13.
FG Value Rating:  A steal!!

* OK, it was just me at In N Out.  I didn't see any of my fellow FG's there.   They were probably at the gym or pilates or something.
** A few hours before the outing, she'd called, dejected, to let me know that she'd be missing lunch because of work.  She proceeded to give me a full list of dishes to order, had me read the list back, and was texting recommendations in real-time as we looked at the menu. What a shining example of true FG dedication!
*** The two non-meat eaters in the group were particularly happy with the variety of options available. Got vegetarian friends?  Go for Thai food!
**** Fried bananas with ice cream, and roti (pancakes) with sweetened condensed milk. Neither were as memorable as the main courses, and the odd coconut ice cream that came with the bananas has real detractors.  That said, there were no leftovers.

Old Lady Cookies

I have the mixer going, NPR blaring over the speakers, a half-finished glass of Diet Coke sweating nearby, and the usual baking paraphenalia spread out all over the kitchen counters:  Flour, sugar, butter, cookie sheets, silpat mats...the works.   My husband walks in from work and, ignoring the mess, comes over hopefully.

Him:  (rubbing hands together) What are you making?  Peanut butter cookies?  More bread?
Me:  Nope.  I'm making these.

I hold up a present he and the kids got me just before Christmas.

Him:  The whole book*?
Me:  No, no, no!  The cover recipe...jam thumbprint cookies.  Aren't they gorgeous?  I've been meaning to make them for ages.
Him:  (literally recoiling, he backs away from me slowly) But...those are...Old Lady cookies!
Me:  What are you talking about?
Him:  You know!  What little old ladies give you instead of real cookies...
Me: (giving him the evil eye, big time):  Ex-CUSE me?
Him:  I'll be in my office...

He walks away, laughing.

About 30 minutes later, my son breezes through the kitchen, drawn, in my estimation, by the irresistible smell of these little gems coming out of the oven.   I decide to start over with a new member of the family.

Me:  Fresh cookies!  Don't they look yummy? Help yourself!
Him:  What's that stuff in the middle?
Me:  It's jam!  There's strawberry ones, and apricot ones.
Him:  Ew.  Who likes jam cookies?
Me:  Well, according to your dad, little old ladies.
Him: (busting up)  Old ladies!  That's exactly what those are - Old Lady cookies!  Hee Hee.  What a funny guy.  Hey, Dad!  Want to split an ice cream sandwich?

He digs in the freezer and walks away, laughing.

Neither of them has eaten a single one.  I've had lots.  I love 'em.

Maybe I am getting old, after all.

Thumbprint (aka Old Lady) Cookies 
A mash up of two recipes...the one from the Gourmet book, and this one from a fellow Tasty Kitchen member, CarenG.   I stole the almond extract idea from Caren, and added that to Gourmet's recipe.   The combination is simply divine (as little old ladies are wont to say).  They are moist and buttery, slightly salty, and that hint of almond makes them smell and taste absurdly rich.  Offset with that disc of fruity goodness, it's a little bite of heaven.  At least as far as I'm concerned.  And I won't say a word about how great they'd be with a cup of tea, because I can hear my husband laughing over my shoulder.

3 c. flour
1 c. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1 1/2 c. (3 sticks) cold butter, cut into cubes
2 large egg yolks
1 tsp. almond extract
1 c. strawberry or other fruit jam, strained and stirred until smooth and pourable

Whisk flour, sugar and salt together.  Using an electric mixer or a food processor, add the butter cubes, pulsing or mixing at medium speed until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.   Lightly beat the egg yolks with the almond extract.

If using a food processor, add the egg mixture in a steady stream with the machine running, and mix just until combined.   With a mixer, blend the egg mixture in at medium speed just until dough comes together.   Press any stray crumbs in with your hands, then refrigerate the dough for about an hour.

Preheat oven to 350, and line cookie sheets with parchment or silicon baking mats.   Using a teaspoon measure, then rolling gently in your hands, form balls about 1 inch in diameter, and space at least 2 inches apart on the baking sheets.  Using your thumb, create an indent in the middle of each cookie to hold the jam.


I put my jam into a squeeze bottle to make the next part easy, but you can easily use a small spoon, too.  Fill the indent of each cookie with jam...it won't take much.

Bake for 12 minutes, just until edges of the cookies are light golden brown.  Cool completely on baking racks, then store in an airtight container for up to a week.

* It is a measure of how nuts I am with therapy baking these days that this is a real possibility.

Nasty, Brutish, Short, Cupcakes: A banana's life

I had this idea that I would start eating more fruit, and less sugar. To ease the transition, I decide to start with bananas, the world's most sugar-like fruit, as my snack of choice. Then I proceeded to leave the bananas sitting in my fruit bowl* until they transitioned from perfectly ripe yellow to that mottled shade of brown that signals the end of their snack food lifetime.

And their resurrection as a dessert ingredient extraordinaire.

Baby Banana Cupcakes with Cinnamon Cream Cheese Frosting
My only possible excuse is that I signed up to bring dessert to a school function, so I knew I wouldn't eat all of these**.   Man, are they tasty.  Beyond moist, light, not dense, just sweet enough, and with a little touch of cinnamon.  Banana bread recipe from DamGoodSweet (a scrumptious cookbook of New Orleans desserts by David Guas), cupcake-ized and frosted by me.

For the cupcakes:
1 3/4 c. flour, plus extra for dusting muffin tins
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
3 very ripe bananas
1 tsp. lemon juice
1/2 c. (1 stick) butter, softened, plus extra for prepping muffin tins
1/2 c. sugar
1/2 c. brown sugar
1/2 tsp. vanilla
2 large eggs
1/4 c. buttermilk

For the frosting:
1 3oz package of cream cheese
1/3 c. butter, softened
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. cinnamon
2 c. powdered sugar, sifted

To make the cupcakes, preheat oven to 350.   Prepare about 48 mini muffin cups by either coating with softened butter, then dusting with flour, or spraying with a baking cooking spray that contains flour.  (I do the latter).

In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt, and set aside.  In another bowl, mash the bananas and the lemon juice together with a fork or a potato masher.  Don't worry about making a smooth mixture...it should have some lumps.  

In the bowl of a stand mixer, or a large bowl with a hand mixer, combine the butter, the sugars and the vanilla at low speed until combined.  Add eggs, one at a time, beating on medium speed and scraping down the sides of the bowl to make sure everything's nicely blended.

Reduce mixer speed to low, then add about 1/3 of the dry ingredients.  Blend until just incorporated, then add 1/2 of the buttermilk.  Blend that in at low speed, then add another 1/3 of the dry ingredients, the rest of the buttermilk, and the last of the dry ingredients, mixing just 'til combined before adding the next part.   Finally, scrape in the banana mixture, and blend only until combined, no more than 10-15 seconds.  All this low mixing will keep your cupcakes super moist!

Using a small ice cream scoop or a spoon, fill muffin cups almost to the top.   Bake for 15 minutes, until tops are golden brown.   Cool for a few minutes, then transfer to baking racks and cool completely.

Meanwhile, make the frosting.  Combine cream cheese, butter, vanilla and cinnamon with an electric mixer until fluffy.   Slowly blend in the powdered sugar, until the frosting is creamy and spreadable.   If you need to thin it out, add a little milk or cream. Frost cooled baby cupcakes with a dab of frosting each (you may have extra frosting, but I won't tell), and serve.

* That fruit bowl is very attractive, visually, so I'd hate to spoil the effect by actually eating any of the items in it.  Of course, I don't hesitate to plow through the limes when cocktail hour comes around.
** There is an interesting karma multiplier effect in banana reincarnation:  Three dead bananas make 48 newborn baby cupcakes!