Coconut shortbread with blueberries and banana frangipane

Posted on December 29, 2012 by Magpies

Banana blueberry bar cookies

I think I was visited by three spirits of parenting last night. Not past, present, and future precisely, but maybe representing varying degrees of parenting flaws. I had three bad parenting-anxiety dreams in a row, and woke up each time feeling confused and flattened. Why? I asked myself? Why now? We’ve been spending a lot of time together lately, Isaac and Malcolm and I, with their holiday from school. Mostly it’s been very fun – we’ve gone for walks, played games, cuddled on the couch and read. But I have had a few bratty outbursts of anger, and therein lies the guilt. I yelled at a crying Isaac for letting the dog take his food. In fact, when I sprayed her with her bad-dog spray bottle (for taking the food) I sprayed him, too, which, amazingly, did nothing to quell his tears. And I cursed at Malcolm. I think that’s the one. I could tell you about five heavy bags of groceries, 3 nights of insomnia, 2 coats and children sprawled on the floor in my path, and one sassy and hurtful comment. I could tell you about how I felt so childishly hurt that I didn’t want to apologize. But there’s no excuse. I shouldn’t – I don’t – talk to anyone in the world like that, so how could I speak like that to Malcolm, my son, my friend? I did apologize, of course, but it has weighed heavily on me, and it’s coming out in my dreams. I was thinking about one of the dreams after I woke up, and maybe it is a premonition of parenting future – at least a preview of the kind of anxiety that must only get worse with time. In the dream, Malcolm and Isaac and I were exploring a cave. We were having a nice time, and they were looking forward to finding the center of the cave, which held a pool they could play in. But we got to one part that was tight and winding, we had to crawl upwards in a space not much bigger than our bodies. I’m a bit phobic about close, winding, airless spaces in real life – caves and lighthouses and crawl spaces – and apparently I am in dreams, as well, because I decided to head out of the cave. I told them to go on ahead, that I’d wait for them at the entrance. I thought about them, winding through the cave; I told myself, they’d be alright without me. Cut to: hours later, I was in a room crowded with people. I don’t know where I was or how I got there, but suddenly it dawned on me that I wasn’t waiting outside the cave for my boys. I panicked, in my dream, and woke up in my bed, in a sweat, straining my ears for the sound of the boys snoring gently in their room. But that’s what it’s going to be like going into the future, isn’t it? They’ll want to explore things on their own, and I’ll have to let them go, and I’ll think, as I did in the dream, that they probably make it home safely without me. When the boys wake up from a nightmare, I always say (like a broken record) “It was just a dream, you’re safe and warm and mommy and daddy love you.” Hopefully I’ve said it enough that they’ll always remember, even when I’m not with them on their adventures. Hopefully they’ll remember that, and not the bad-tempered moments.

Well, enough of this little dream-journal confessional. Let’s talk about cookies! We bought a bunch of adorable tiny bananas, thinking that the boys would like them. They rarely ever finish a regular-sized banana, so this seemed like a good solution. Sadly, the tiny bananas were greeted with indifference. So we had quite a few rapidly ripening bananas to dispose of. I wanted to make something different from banana bread or banana cake, for a change, and I had the idea of combining the bananas with almonds, sugar and eggs, to make a banana frangipane. Fun to say, and good to eat!! I also wanted to remake the coconut shortbread layer of the cherry chocolate cookies I’d made the other week, because I had a nagging doubt that I’d gotten a measurement wrong. So we have a layer of shortbread, a layer of good blueberry preserves, (I used bonne maman, ironically!) and a layer of banana frangipane. It turned out nice! Soft, flavorful, but not too strongly banana-y – more of a haunting fruity sweetness that goes beautifully with the almond flavor. The cookies are like a newton, maybe, in texture. Newtonian. But without the seediness.

Here’s Tom Waits with Innocent When You Dream.

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Coconut cherry chocolate bar cookies

Posted on December 26, 2012 by Magpies

Coconut, cherry, chocolate bar cookies

Happy boxing day!! We’re having such a nice, slow day, surrounded by the chaos of Christmas presents and Christmas wrappings and new toys to play with and things to build (if you’re a boy) or chew to pieces (if you’re Clio). We gave the boys a few noisy toys, which they played with for hours (starting before I was out of bed, of course!). And then, at one point, a hush fell on the room. Malcolm was on the couch reading a new book, cuddled with Clio. I used to love to get books for Christmas. I can vividly remember the keen pleasure of opening a new Tintin, or Joan Aiken, or book about horses. I’d be wearing new Christmas pjs, maybe, holding a new stuffed animal, sitting by the fire, absorbed in this new world. It’s hard to capture that feeling again when you’re an adult, which is why David’s present was perfect in every way. He gave me some beautiful new dishes (one is pictured above), some blank books with little drawings from the dishes

AND a Tintin book!! It’s all about how Tintin is drawn, and has little quizzes to test your Tintin knowledge. I love it!! I feel as excited as a child! As giddy as a schoolboy! And the best part is that I also feel inspired, by blank books and blank dishes. Oh the things I’ll cook to present on the dishes, and the nonsense I’ll write to fill up the books! The books I used to get for Christmas excited me because they contained vast, unknown worlds, and it was such a pleasure to watch them unfold. Of course we all have those worlds in our heads, strange and new – all of us do, and they can all come pouring out onto these blank lines.

These cookies were very easy to make, and they seem quite fancy, cause of the chocolate and cherry combination, which always tastes like a celebration. Basically, they’re a coconut shortbread covered with a thin layer of cherry preserves, and topped with a chocolate ganache. Like a version of millionaire’s shortbread, I guess! I put a bit of sherry into the shortbread to make them taste extra Christmassy.

I know I’ve been posting a lot of Jimmy Smith, lately, but he’s just killing me! His songs are so warm, and pleasing, but completely unexpected in parts, till he brings it all home again. Here’s We Three Kings. I love how grand and big band-y it is, before it breaks into this ridiculously joyous and swinging tune.

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Marzipan, cherry and bittersweet chocolate chip cookies

Posted on December 19, 2012 by Magpies

marzipan-cookies Clio loves Jaques Tati. From the opening credits of Mon Oncle to the frighteningly affectionate german shepard of Trafic, she watches with rapt attention, ears perked, golden-grey eyes bright. I’ve never had a dog who watched television, and I said she must be a genius! David pointed out that the inclination to watch television is not exactly indicative of intelligence – a point I must concede. However! She’s watching foreign movies! She’s watching artsy French films. I rest my case. The truth is, of course, that Tati is not high brow or difficult in any way. Tati is pure pleasure from start to finish – visually beautiful, with lovely colors and graceful movements, and thoughtfully, perfectly quiet, with just the right sounds at the right times. We saw an interview with Jaques Tati from a television program that must have been called Showstoppers! The interviewer seemed nervous, and very sweetly kept on and on asking Tati about his favorite show stoppers, in his films, or Chaplin’s films, or Keaton’s films. Tati’s films, of course, aren’t about the fine art of show-stopperism. The action comes gently, in wave after wave, swirling and swelling and falling. In this interview, Tati secured himself the coveted position of patron saint-filmmaker of The Ordinary by saying that the purpose of his work is to bring a smile to ordinary life, to find the beauty and humor in things that we do everyday, and in everything that goes on around us. He’s laughing at us, but kindly and generously, with warmth and fellowship, because he’s as foolish as any of us. These foibles connect us, and the act of noticing them makes every moment, and every movement, important. In another interview, not with Tati, but with the stars of Trafic, the actors were asked how working with Tati had changed their lives. They replied that they look at everything differently now, the movements of people on the street, in their homes, in their businesses, and they, too see patterns and humor. This is a quality I aspire to. I want to notice things, everyday things and the movements of the people all around me, and recognize the beauty and comedy of it all. This feels like a grand ambition to me, an important aspiration. Tati proves that a comic film, so light and warm and absurd, can have great weight and depth, with strong, far-reaching roots that connect us all.

Why am I talking about a French film when it’s not a French-cake-a-week recipe?!?! I’ll tell you why! Part of this recipe was meant to be in a French cake, and was, in fact, from my French cookbook. These could be called “failed marzipan cookies.” I tried to make massepain, to make little shapes for my upcoming Buche de Noel (act surprised!). Instead I made a sort of almond toffee, delicious, but too hard to form into little shapes. So I cut it into little cubes, mixed it in with some dried tart cherries and some dark chocolate chips, and made one of the best cookies I’ve ever eaten!! They’re irresistible. The tartness of the cherries sets off the sweetness of the marzipan, and the chocolate is perfect with both. You could probably use regular almond paste for this, but it wasn’t hard to make failed marzipan. I simply combined sliced almonds with regular sugar (not icing, as I should probably have used) a few teaspoons of warm water and a few teaspoons of vanilla extract in a food processor, and I processed it for ages. Well, maybe 15 minutes. I scraped down the sides, now and again. The processor became quite warm inside, and the oil seemed to separate from the almonds. The resulting mix, when I pressed it altogether was quite hard and slightly grainy. I let it cool its heels in a bowl overnight, and it dried out a bit more. And that was that!!

Here’s a scene from Trafic with a very human gesture that I think we’ll all recognize!!

Here’s the Maytals with Happy Christmas. I posted it last year, too, at this time, but I just love it so much!!

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Almond, pistachio and cardamom cookies

Posted on December 14, 2012 by Magpies

Almond-pistachio cookies with cardamom

Well, I went on and on about Charles Dickens, yesterday, with appropriate verbosity, a quality that I feel he and I share. I was thinking, through the night, that I should have let Dickens speak for himself. I should have quoted the man. So that’s what I plan to do now, with two passages from David Copperfield, one of my other favorite Dickens novels. I believe this was the first novel he wrote in the first person, a point of view from which you think it would be tricky to reveal and maintain all of the complexities of a Dickens plot. David Copperfield’s voice is so sweet and funny and self-deprecating, and his observations so honest and human, that it becomes, instead, the perfect point of view from which to reveal the plot, and the reader relishes the uncertainty with which it unfolds. I chose these two passages because I think they demonstrate how powerfully Dickens uses humor. In the first example the situation is indescribably sad, and the humor and the awkwardness add a sort of unsentimental poignancy. This is the moment that David, away at school, learns of the death of his mother…

‘You are too young to know how the world changes every day,’ said Mrs. Creakle, ‘and how the people in it pass away. But we all have to learn it, David; some of us when we are young, some of us when we are old, some of us at all times of our lives.’

I looked at her earnestly.

‘When you came away from home at the end of the vacation,’ said Mrs. Creakle, after a pause, ‘were they all well?’ After another pause, ‘Was your mama well?’

I trembled without distinctly knowing why, and still looked at her earnestly, making no attempt to answer.

‘Because,’ said she, ‘I grieve to tell you that I hear this morning your mama is very ill.’

A mist rose between Mrs. Creakle and me, and her figure seemed to move in it for an instant. Then
I felt the burning tears run down my face, and it was steady again.

‘She is very dangerously ill,’ she added.

I knew all now.

‘She is dead.’

There was no need to tell me so. I had already broken out into a desolate cry, and felt an orphan in the wide world.”

The second example is just funny, but it makes us love Copperfield, and feel some kinship with him. He’s not the most handsome or wealthy or able person in the novel, he’s regular, like us, and full of flaws, and how nice it is to be able to laugh with him at our weaknesses! Here he is, drunk…

Owing to some confusion in the dark, the door was gone. I was feeling for it in the window-curtains, when Steerforth, laughing, took me by the arm and led me out. We went downstairs, one behind another. Near the bottom, somebody fell, and rolled down. Somebody else said it was Copperfield. I was angry at that false report, until, finding myself on my back in the passage, I began to think there might be some foundation for it.”

I love that! And I love these cookies!! They were inspired by a recipe I happened upon for Halwa in an Indian cookbook. The combination of pistachios, almonds and cardamom sounded so perfect, that I decided, this being Christmas cookie season, to combine these elements in a sort of shortbread or butter cookie. The recipe is very simple and easy, and very adaptable, as well. You could roll these cookies out and cut them into shapes, or chill them as a log and cut them off as refrigerator cookies, or spread them in a pan and cut them after baking, like shortbread. I chose to roll them into little balls and then flatten them by hand.

Here’s Uncle Tupelo with I Got Drunk. He got drunk and he fell down, too! Just like our David Copperfield.
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French cake a week – les sables de caen (with clementine zest)

Posted on December 10, 2012 by Magpies

Les sables au caen

In which Claire, who doesn’t speak French bakes her way through the cake section of a French cookbook from 1962. Here at The Ordinary, we’ve fallen way behind in our French-cake-a-week series. O! The angry uproar from our cake-eating fans! Our mailbox is crammed with notes that say, “merde!” and “zut alors!!” Where is our cake?!? Well, fear not! Here it is! We mark our triumphal return with the spectacular … well, the spectacularly simple sables de caen. As you will recall, if you can remember that far back, we had gotten into the custom of writing about films by french women to accompany our french cake a week. This week, the film I’d like to tell you about isn’t really french, and isn’t by a woman. But it takes place in France, and it does concern a woman. It is, in fact, the very last five-minute segment of Paris, Je T’aime, a film comprised of many such segments directed by many different directors, including such notables as the Coen brothers and Gus Van Sant. The film as a whole is very entertaining. Each segment is different, and some are light-hearted and amusing, some are stylish, some romantic, some heavy and dramatic, and one even involves a sexy french vampire. The last section, directed by Alexander Payne seemed completely different from all of these, and held a mysterious power – it felt like a gentle but powerful punch. It was very moving! In music and poetry, they speak of something called a “feminine ending” or a “feminine cadence,” in which a line, phrase or movement ends on an unstressed or “weak” syllable or note. Though it is called “weak,” the effect of such an ending is usually quite powerful, because it is unexpected and unresolved, it leaves you questioning and wanting more. Payne’s tiny movie felt like just such an ending. It was simple, sweet, thoughtful, a little sad, but ultimately uplifting. It was a story told by a seemingly very ordinary woman – a letter carrier from Denver – for her French class. She recounts her trip to Paris in a horrible french accent, and though it’s a very short narrative, and though nothing happens, by the end I was nearly in tears, I liked her so much, and I wanted to go to Paris more than ever. (The link above includes the whole narrative, which works on its own, but is probably better as part of the film as a whole.)

These little cakes are very simple, but quite delicious. They’re more like cookies, honestly, and I think they’d make nice Christmas cookies. They have a lot of butter, and precious little else! The recipe calls for orange zest or any flavoring you’d like, but I opted for clementine zest, because it’s a lovely mysterious flavor, and because that’s what I had! The recipe called for a large, round fluted punch, to cut the cookies. I happened to have ja tiny tart pan (about 8 inches) that I thought would work, but if you don’t have such a thing, you could use any cookie cutter you like, or even a juice glass of any size you like.

Here’s Clementine, by the Decemberists. I love this song!

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Nutella cookies

Posted on December 5, 2012 by Magpies

Nutella cookies

We saw such an interesting movie the other night. Female, starring Ruth Chatterton, is a pre-code movie. This means that it’s shocking, sassy and salacious! This, in fact, means that it was made before the enforcement of the “Hays Code,” a set of strict rules imposed upon the film industry in the early 1930s. These rules determined what you could show in a film and what you could say in a film, of course, but I find it fascinating that they also controlled the plot of a film. You could get away with showing a “bad girl” or a “fallen woman” if she was punished by the plot – if her immoral actions resulted in death or redemption (and marriage). I love to watch post-code movies and see the way that humanity, in all of its imbalance and immorality, seeps through the cracks in the plot, to watch for moments when it’s obvious that the outcome of the film has nothing to do with the characters in the film, with their desires or fears. (Watch Some Like it Hot, and remember that “the code” discouraged the depiction of gay characters.) Female (1933) is something of a cusp film – the code had been introduced, but not yet strictly enforced. It tells the story of Alison Drake, the boss of a large auto plant, who long ago decided to “travel the same open road that men travel,” and to treat men exactly as they’ve treated women all of these years. And so she does! She has brief affairs with any young thing that catches her eye at the office, and she forms no emotional attachment and expects that they’ll do the same. In the end, of course, she’s tamed by a strong “alpha male” who looks alarmingly like Ronald Reagan. And so, in a sense, it could be a post-code movie, despite all of the innuendo and her shocking behavior throughout, because she’s redeemed by marriage. But the film struggles against this tidy ending. For one thing, it’s very funny throughout, and when she declares her decision to leave her company to her future husband and to have at least nine children, it comes across almost as another joke. And the humor is so clever and satirical. The show Mad Men got a lot of attention for showing how degradingly women were treated at a certain time, especially in the work place. Alison Drake turns that world on its head, but with such honesty and good nature that we almost take her side, though she’s using and abusing all the handsome boys at the office. The film raises questions, but it doesn’t make simple judgments about the characters or their actions. For instance, throughout the film it becomes obvious that Alison Drake’s servants like her very much. They talk to her like an equal, and they take an interest in her life – the chauffeur goes so far as to fight for her honor in response to a slur on her character. This makes her seem like a real, human character, and one who cannot be penned in by a simplistic Hollywood ending. She’s told to be softer and more feminine to snag her man, and she tries this approach, but with an unmistakable smile on her face the whole time. Oh those naive days of yore, when women thought it would be clever to pretend to be something they’re not to get themselves married. Thank heavens we’ve grown beyond that, as a society. But wait, what’s this? On the Fox news website recently, and written by a woman! Advice that women should be softer and more feminine if they’d like to get themselves married! I won’t give it any more attention than it deserves, especially since Stephen Colbert has pretty much said all that there is to say.

So…nutella cookies!! They’re like nutella because they’re made with cocoa powder and hazelnuts, and they have nutella mixed into the batter! They’re like nutella because they’re delicious and addictive! They’re crispy-outside-soft-inside-chocolatey-nutty-melty-pleasantly-plump-and-weighty. And they’re fun and easy to make.

Here’s The Carter Family with Single Girl, Married Girl. Surely one of the first feminist anthems, and from such an unlikely source.
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Apple cherry chocolate chip bars

Posted on November 27, 2012 by Magpies

Cherry, apple, chocolate chip bars

On days like this I’m so glad that I have everything in my life tidy and organized. That I’m on top of it all! I’m looking forward to the meeting that all three of Malcolm’s teachers requested – I’m sure they want to tell us how well he’s doing, and how he’s got everything tidy and organized, and he’s on top of it all, too! I’m glad I don’t have to spend the day feeling guilty as hell because I yelled at him about the state of his notebook and his backpack and his uncorrected essay and his seeming complete apathy about anything related to school. So that he left for school saying he hated me, and I don’t have a chance to apologize and tell him how smart he is for nearly eight hours. That would be a horrible feeling! I’m glad that I don’t have to feel like a bad example to him because I’ve got teetering piles of bills (piles? Heavens no! You should see my up-to-date and immaculate filing system!) that I only seem to pay when the next one is due. I’m glad that I didn’t yell at Isaac on our snowy walk to school because he’s always half a block behind, and he can’t walk faster because his rib hurts, and I’m glad that I don’t have to worry that he has low energy and constant bouts of strep and tummy aches. Because, of course, he eagerly eats every meal I lovingly prepare, in all their wholesome goodness, and gets plenty of protein and vitamins. I’m glad that I can keep my house spotless and tidy, and I don’t feel as though I spend hours digging in sand, as I clean, because within seconds the clutter collects and the dust settles, and the counter is covered in crumbs. I’m having a lovely, peaceful day, sitting in my pristine, spare-but-stylish house, watching the soft snow fall quietly outside, not thinking about the crumbling plaster in every wall, that can only be fixed by a fellow this guy knows, who was an excellent plasterer, but is now long-dead. Who is having an anxious and grumpy day? Who is? I feel better now, though. The snow has shifted to rain and back to snow. But it’s warm in here. And it’s Clio’s first snow! She may have pink eye and an upset tummy, but can that stop her enjoyment of the snow? It cannot! Snow makes her crazy!! She races back inside and flies around the house, bouncing off of furniture, throwing herself at me at an alarming speed. And yes, this is an old house and the plaster is crumbling, but I love it anyway! Yes, we have numerous teetering piles of papers, but the papers are mostly drawings by the boys, and they’re beautiful, clever, well-executed drawings! Maybe I’m not exactly on top of this sea of worries and responsibilities, but I’m floating along with it, rising and falling, okay for now.

Malcolm likes fruity candy. Many days he asks for a dollar to go buy some fruity candy at the store down the block. But as nice as it seems for him to come home from a long day of school, when it’s cold and wet outside, and buy a box of candy, and cuddle on the couch with the puppy and watch a movie – nice as that seems, I can’t let him do it every day! So I bought him some dried tart cherries. They’re very nice! Chewy, fruity, lovely and sweet/tart. He ate half the bag, and then I put the rest in these bars, along with some apples and some chocolate chips. I added ground walnuts to the batter for a change of pace, and they made the bars lovely and dense, with a mysterious walnut flavor. I made these like brownies, which is a fairly lazy and easy way to make something. Melt some stuff in a pot, stir some other stuff in, and spread it in a pan. And that’s that!!

Here’s A Tribe Called Quest with 8 Million Stories. They’re having a bad day. But it’s a good song!
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Nutty cherry chocolate coconut flapjack granola bars

Posted on November 25, 2012 by Magpies

What? Cherries and chocolate and coconut and nuts? And oats? Is this possible? Indeed it is, and its delicious, too. My boys like granola bars, and believe that they’re a healthy snack. I believe that granola bars are just cookies disguised as a healthy snack. And they remind me of the English version of flapjacks, which I love a lot. I have no problem with my boys eating cookies, or other sweet snacks, but if they’re going to eat something unhealthy, I’m going to make it for them myself, dammit! For some reason I feel better knowing that they’re getting actual butter and sugar rather than processed blizz blazz. It might seem silly, but there it is! Plus these have oats and nuts and fruit, so there’s some good with the bad. Obviously, you can throw anything you like in there! Don’t not make them because you don’t have all of these specific ingredients! I had fewer chocolate chips than I thought, so I threw some mini M&Ms left over from Isaac’s birthday into the mix.

I think of oats and chocolate as being ultimately comforting. And I’ve always wanted to make a playlist of empathetic songs. Songs like the magnificent It Hurts Me Too, by Elmore James. So I’ve compiled such a list, and I love it, so far. Some of the songs might be more sympathetic than empathetic – it’s a fairly liquid shift from one to the other, isn’t it? But they’re all supportive and comforting. Can you think of any songs to add to the list?
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Chocolate-covered, raspberry-filled coconut shortbread cookies

Posted on November 19, 2012 by Magpies

Raspberry coconut chocolate-covered cookies

Isaac says that the worst thing about turning seven is that you’re all achy when you wake up in the morning. And I said, “just you wait till you’re forty-three and when you drop a pencil it’s not worth bending down to pick it up!” (And then I worried that I was belittling his complaint. And then I worried that he was coming down with something, because a seven-year-old shouldn’t be achy! He seems fine, though.) But I spent some time thinking about it, this morning, sitting on the couch with Clio and not getting anything done. (She’s no help, this puppy! Does she shoo me off the couch and say, “get to work!”? She does not! She makes ridiculously cute little grumbly clucky noises “ooonph, ooonph” and curls up on top of me with a big sigh so I couldn’t get up even if I wanted to!) Ah yes, I was thinking about it this morning, whilst slowly recovering from a busy weekend of I’m-too-old-to-be-a-waitress, especially in shoes that are a size too big. I’ve been feeling very stressy, lately. With stomachaches and headaches and rashes. Of course a big part of the problem is that I stress about the symptoms, I’m too aware of them when they’re there, and not grateful enough to feel better when they’re gone. Something I think about quite a bit is feeling good – a specific moment in time when you feel good and you know it. You walk down the streets of your town feeling sunny and light and happy and comfortable with yourself. You’re not hungry or tired or manic. You’re not worried about anything. The sun is shining, and it feels good to walk in a place that you know and love. It’s not a lot to ask, really – it’s more the absence of discomfort and anxiety than anything else – but it seems like such a precious, elusive feeling. It would be nice to bottle it as an elixir for the next time you have a sniffle, or you shut your finger in a door (that’s me, last night!), or you’ve got worries weighing down your heavy feet. It’s a feeling I associate with youth and springtime, but you can feel it in the winter, too, even when you’re forty-three and you don’t always feel like bending down to pick up a pencil.

I like songs about this sort of moment, and I was listening to one the other day, but I can’t remember what it is! I’ve started a short playlist of the ones I can think of, and I’d appreciate your help in adding to it! Songs about feeling good, in your neighborhood. I’ve stretched the rubric a little for some of these, but the nice thing is, listening to these songs makes you feel good!

I had a meeting with a client who asked me to make a dessert for a dinner party. (Okay, so the client was my mother and the meeting was a glass of wine in the afternoon! Before pick-up at the school! Shocking!) The party was a wine-tasting featuring Argentine wines, and the maternal client requested a dessert with coconut, raspberry and dark chocolate. So I decided to make a version of Argentine-style alfajores. These little cakes are made with a subtly-flavored coconut shortbread, sandwiched together with raspberry jam, and coated in bittersweet chocolate. They also reminded me of the empire biscuits that my scottish mother-in-law makes. I think they would make a nice sweet for a holiday party, because they’re portable – you can stuff a few in your pockets and wander from conversation-to-conversation, fully stocked!!

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Pumpkin blondies with chocolate-covered ginger

Posted on October 25, 2012 by Magpies

Pumpkin blondies

I’ve mentioned in the past that my fun-o-meter might be broken. I’ve told you how things that I’m supposed to find fun make me anxious, and things that many people think of as chores are my favorite things to do…every….day. On my ideal day we’d go for a hike, write or draw a bit, listen to music, make a nice dinner, go for a walk around town, watch a good movie. Nothing fantastic, but we’d do it together, and we’d all be in good moods and get along with each other (this means you, boys!) Nothing makes me feel like getting out the old fun-o-meter adjuster like a holiday. I like holidays, but I don’t anticipate them as eagerly as I once did. You can never quite match that childish zeal, and sometimes it makes me feel a little sad to have lost it. Isaac is a living manifestation of Halloween excitement. He asks me every morning how many days are left. He plans his costume, wears the bits we’ve already made, changes his mind about what he wants to be. He draws zombies and skeletons and ghosts. He’s sad that we don’t have more Halloween decorations, and he spent an afternoon cutting them out of paper and hanging them in the windows. And he wants to carve pumpkins, lots of pumpkins. I’ve been thinking about pumpkins, this morning, and I think they might be my golden ticket back to Halloween glee. I can’t really get excited about trick-or-treating. I love making the boys’ costumes but I’m anxious that I won’t get them done on time, or they won’t look right. But pumpkins…lately I’ve looked on pumpkin carving as a messy and slimy task. But today I realized the error of my ways. I love pumpkins! I love everything about them. The way they taste, the way they smell, their color, the word, “pumpkin.” I love how mythological they seem – they can replace a horseman’s head or they can become an enchanted carriage. And I love the idea of souls and spirits…this time of year is so rich in the remembrance of souls, so joyful and awe-ful. A jack-o-lantern is a pumpkin spirit, smiling out at you with fiendish glee. It’s the ingis fatuus that leads you across dry fields of middle-aged disillusionment to the vibrant, glowing, slightly frightening, sweet, morally complicated, highly anticipated night that is Halloween. I can’t wait to carve one!

I thought these pumpkin blondies turned out very tasty! They’re a little softer than a normal blondie, cause of the pumpkin, but they make up for this (not unpleasant) attribute with taste. I spiced them with cinnamon, nutmeg, and allspice, and I added chocolate-covered-ginger, which contributed a lovely chewy little bite. I added a handful of chocolate chips, too, because you can never have enough chocolate!

Here’s Mikey Dread’s spooky Pre-Dawn Dub.
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