Oatmeal Lace Cookies & Home, by Sara Reddy Coyne

I’ve been thinking a lot about Home lately. Not the home I have today, but the Home of my childhood; the one of family Sunday brunches with dad making epic omelets, mom scraping burnt toast into the sink, and me and my sister sipping fresh-squeezed orange juice and sharing the comics section of the newspaper, spread out giggling on the floor. The Home where all those Thanksgivings and Christmases took place, where summers stretched out far beyond the horizon, and winters were made warm with hot cocoa by the fire, or all of us gathered around a bowl of popcorn to watch a movie on VHS.

I’ve been thinking of this Home, and the sad truth is, the more I think about it, the less certain I am that Home ever existed.

Years of hard-earned cynicism have me doubting my own memories. Maybe I’ve simply watched It’s a Wonderful Life too many times, or have been too affected by my beloved Little Women (the mom of my childhood Home certainly does resemble Marmee in a her warm, wise ways).

We all know our memories are selective. But is Nostalgia cunning enough to completely rewrite our history?

I certainly hope not. Because I’m awfully fond of my memories — real or not.

As children, it doesn’t take much to be happy. We weren’t looking to be impressed, weren’t always expecting something better or newer or next. We could spend hours stalking bugs in the tall grass, happy for mom to deliver us an orange juice popsicle in the back yard, the syrup melting down our arms. It didn’t matter that mom made the popsicles from concentrate, or that there was only ever one flavor. They were simple, delicious, and reliable. Kind of like home.

So when I find myself craving Home, nothing, NOTHING says Home to me like simple, perfect oatmeal cookies.

My mom didn’t rely much on cookbooks. In fact, from what I can remember, we only had one in the kitchen: The Settlement Cook Book, which was first published in 1901, and guarantees the recipes are “The way to a man’s heart.”

This is a no-fuss cookbook: no pictures, little instruction, simple recipes. It’s packed full of good all-American home cooking: dumplings, butter cakes, baked biscuit desserts, pot roasts and stews. But what interested me most, back then and still now, are the cookies. Oatmeal Lace Cookies.

There are only five ingredients, and all you need is one bowl and a spoon to mix them with. Everything you need to make them you’ll likely already have on hand. These are the ultimate late-night, missing-home, looking-for-comfort nostalgic cookies: they’re chewy and crunchy and taste almost more like candy than cookie.

I absolutely adore the understated sparseness of the recipe itself, so I am leaving the language intact for your enjoyment. However, I’ve added a few notes at the bottom to help you along.

When you smell these cookies, and you dip their thin, lacey frames into your glass of milk, I promise your adulthood skepticism will melt away as the brown sugar and butter melts on your tongue. And with a single bite, you will be Home again.

Oatmeal Lace Cookies (from The Settlement Cook Book)

1/2 cup melted butter
2 ½ cups rolled oats
1 cup brown sugar
2 teaspoons baking powder
1 egg, beaten

Melt butter, add to dry ingredients. Add egg, mix well. Drop from spoon 1 inch apart on greased cookie sheet. Bake 8-10 minutes at 350. Let stand 1 minute, remove from pan.

*Writer’s notes: I recommend adding 1/8 – 1/4 teaspoon salt. Also, keep each cookie just under 1 tablespoon, as they spread quite dramatically during cooking, and become very thin (and lace-like). Allow the edges to grow deep golden brown before removing from oven. And finally, I found I needed to let them rest for 2-3 minutes before they were stiff enough to remove from the cookie sheet. Best served with a glass of cold milk, and some warm nostalgia.

This post originated in a steamy July kitchen, and cemented my belief that oatmeal cookie fans are as rabid, loyal, and sweet-toothed as they come. Original post found here.

—————-

My daughter was headed to a pool party the other night, and I was supposed to send cookies. I opened the pantry door, and from a tall cylindrical box a man wearing a Quaker hat said “Pool party? Thou shalt need oats, of course.”

So I made oatmeal cookies.

There are as many oatmeal secrets in America as there are splattered recipe cards – everyone seems to have a grandmother’s trick or a magazine shortcut to oatmeal bliss. Me? Forget fancy training and hand-kissed organics, because I’d never abandon this pleasure: pulling back the Quaker Oats tab with a satisfying “whh-ch,” getting a nice wholesome whiff, and then turning over the recipe to make Vanishing Oatmeal Cookies.

Oh, there are more glamorous recipes, more wholesome recipes, certainly more interesting recipes. But when it comes to oatmeal cookies, I don’t mess with the oven gods. Simple is best, and tradition rules. Still – one gets creative, and on this particular day I sorely tempted Quaker man’s patience by mixing a handful of white chocolate chips into the dough. He looked at me sternly as they went into the bowl. “Dude,” I whispered, “come on. It’s a pool party.”

I say keep the base traditional – it can hardly be improved – and when white-haired guy’s not looking, throw something delicious in for fun. Here are 25 ways to trick out your oatmeal cookies – not necessarily ground-breaking, but all tasty and all in one place. I guarantee they’ll vanish.

25 ways to trick out your oatmeal cookies

1. add extra cinnamon and chocolate chunks
2. add dried cherries, crystallized ginger and a dash of powdered ginger
3. add chopped dried pineapple and toasted coconut
4. add finely chopped granny smith apple
5. add dried currants plumped in orange juice, and the zest of one orange
6. add chopped toffee bits and toasted almond slices
7. add dried wild blueberries and nutmeg
8. add chocolate chips and pecan halves
9. add white chocolate chips and toasted walnuts
10. add a few handfuls of any Trader Joe’s trail mix
11. add a tablespoon of powdered espresso and cocoa nibs
12. add chopped dried pears and white chocolate chunks
13. add chopped candied orange peel
14. add dried cranberries and pumpkin pie spice
15. add chocolate chunks and salted peanuts
16. add grated raw carrot and toasted walnuts
17. add chopped dates and toasted coconut
18. add chocolate chips, chopped walnuts & mini-marshmallows
19. add about a cup of Rice Krispies cereal
20. Chocolate-Dipped: Bake jumbo cookies and allow to cool. Cut cookies into quarters and dip each pointed end in melted semi-sweet chocolate. Allow chocolate to set, and serve.
21. Oatmeal Black and Whites: bake large oatmeal cookies and cool. Make chocolate and white icings (try these icing recipes). Frost one half of each cookie with dark icing, and the other half with white.
22. Oatmeal Faux Macarons: make small, puffy oatmeal cookies and sandwich two with chocolate ganache. Allow ganache to set, and serve.
23. Orange-Glazed Oatmeal Cookies: make a light glaze by mixing 1 cup powdered sugar, 1 1/2 tablespoons orange juice, and pinch of grated orange zest. Drizzle over cookies and allow to dry.
24. Oatmeal Cookie Dip: Bake mini oatmeal cookies, and make chocolate yogurt dip: whisk one cup vanilla yogurt with one tablespoon of cocoa powder and one tablespoon brown sugar. Chill for an hour, then serve with cookies and fresh strawberries.
25. Brandied Cherry Oatmeal Ice Cream Sandwiches: soak dried cherries in brandy and drain. Add to oatmeal dough; bake jumbo cookies and cool. Sandwich with good-quality cherry ice cream and freeze.

Quaker Oats Vanishing Oatmeal Cookie

1/2 pound (2 sticks) margarine or butter, softened
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)
3 cups Quaker® Oats (quick or old-fashioned, uncooked)
1 cup raisins (optional)

Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, beat margarine and sugars until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats and raisins (if using raisins); mix well.

Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. (or cookie sheets lined with parchment paper) Bake 10 to 12 minutes or until light golden brown – do not overbake. Cool 1 minute on cookie sheets; remove to wire rack. Cool completely. Store tightly covered.

makes approximately 4 dozen, depending on size of cookie

But it is never just once. I’m a habitual yes-girl, and what’s worse, the ideas – even today – are frequently of my own making, things I was not even asked to do. I propose an idea and everyone says “yes!” and I say “of course!” and twelve hours later I’m hunched over a counter, glaring at a mixer. I’d like to say I never learn, but somewhere after 38, I did.  The ghosts of three “sures!” past – all holiday, all gingerbread, all crazy – finally taught me to keep my sweet mouth shut.

Street of Broken Dreams

Fresh out of culinary school, I’m working for an overly ambitious guy at a do-everything shop in Chicago’s Old Town.  We plan our holiday open house, and even though I am already baking pastry, working catering, designing the menus and refereeing romantic staff spats, I raise my dorky hand.  How about a gingerbread Armitage Street?  Shops, snow, icing, lights?  Everyone seems pleased, and I work all week on the sugared city scene. It’s a candlelit hit at the open house, and I’m clapped on the back all night. But my eager-beaverness soon earns me every job that no one wants.  A famous name is brought in at great expense to draw customers and boss me around. In the end, Ambitious Guy declares bankruptcy and closes shop.

A Model Relationship

Older and ostensibly wiser, I am brought into a restaurant to whip the bakery kitchen and staff into shape.  The owner wants a partner, and says it will be me, in time; he has a difficult reputation but I believe him, and work my little heart out.  Christmas rolls around and – surprise! – I’m outside, sketching the restaurant for a gingerbread model.   I work on this one at night, at home, after work and when Josie sleeps.  On my tiny kitchen counter I cut through gingerbread slabs with an X-acto, and then a knife, and finally a hacksaw.  The iced model goes on display, and it too is a hit – customers ooh and ah over the little white bricks and candy awnings all week, but before New Year’s, Difficult Guy decides maybe…maybe he doesn’t need a partner.  I hang up my apron, but the gingerbread stays.

How the Cookie Crumbles

I didn’t even work there. My friend owned a little gourmet shop, and was brainstorming holiday windows. I suggested a gingerbread Eiffel Tower. Would I have time, with a toddler and a catering business? Oh, sure. Why not?

Glaring at twenty pounds of dough three days later, I wasn’t sure.  My design was clear but painstaking, and as the baked brown slabs filled my dining room, tagged with yellow Post-Its – “2nd level left,” “tower deck B,” “base foot DON’T CUT!!” – it became a dark architectural headache. I was thrilled when we set it safely in the window, aglow with tiny lights. My friend’s door clanged with jingle bells, and shoppers brightly elbowed and jostled for truffles and sausage and cheese. People took pictures, the local paper came, and my friend loved it, too – she loved it so much that weeks later, when royal icing began to crack off, she refused to take it down.

“Please take it down,” I’d say. “The season’s over. It’s porous, you know – not meant to last forever.”

But she would not, and there was some argument over who the tower belonged to – me, the rightful baker, or her, owner of the window. I gave in – yes, keep it up – and it sat there falling apart bit by bit, which is more than I can say for our friendship, which fell apart immediately.

So. What have we learned?  Be careful with saws in the kitchen. Don’t glue monuments with egg whites, and don’t eat raw dough before sunrise. Enjoy playing holiday elf, and if you’re able to say yes, say yes. But if you just can’t say no, tread gingerly.

Happy Holidays!

Wait – I still don’t!  Oh life.  You are so funny.

They will go to the new baby’s house. They will get dipped in your uncle’s coffee, unwrapped in the dorm, munched over papers. They will comfort on the funeral table. Mandelbread is a cookie you can’t live without, but of course that’s because I never have – and why would I want to try? Every family has that plate of something and to me, the humble slice is plainly perfect.

Mrs. DuBois’ Yummy Mandelbread

This recipe is adapted from a favorite and extremely dirty spiral-bound community book. It was proudly contributed by one Mrs. E. DuBois, who dubbed them Yummy Mandelbread. Thanks, Mrs. DB – they are.

1/4 lb (one stick) butter, softened at room temperature
1 heaping tablespoon soft shortening *
1 cup granulated sugar
3 eggs
3 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon almond extract
1 cup toasted whole almonds, chopped (optional)

for sprinkling:

cinnamon
dash nutmeg
granulated sugar

Preheat oven to 375 F.

Use an electric mixer to cream the butter and shortening. Stop to scrape the bowl and add the vanilla and almond extracts. Continue beating butter mixture until creamy and well-combined. Add the sugar and eggs, one at a time, to smooth.

In a separate bowl, combine dry ingredients to blend – flour, salt, baking soda and baking powder.

Add dry ingredients to the butter mixture, beating on low speed until dough is just combined. If using chopped almonds, add nuts to dough and briefly mix, just long enough to evenly distribute.

Turn dough onto a lightly floured surface and knead briefly to smooth. Divide dough into four equal parts. Using both hands, roll each piece of dough into a cylinder, each about as long as your cookie sheet and approximately 2″ wide.

Transfer dough cylinders to prepared cookie sheets (greased or parchment-lined), two per sheet and spaced at least 2″ apart. Using the palm of your hand, flatten the cylinders slightly, working down each length until done.

In a small bowl, mix equal parts cinnamon and sugar to make about 1/2 cup. Add a generous dash of nutmeg and mix to blend.

Sprinkle cinnamon sugar over each rolled dough strip. Bake for 15-20 minutes, or until strips are golden and just firmed up. Remove from oven and cool until safe to handle.

Using a thin serrated knife, cut each strip on the diagonal to form approx. 18-20 pieces. Arrange cut pieces on the cookie sheets and sprinkle generously with cinnamon sugar. Return cookies to oven until golden brown and tops appear dry, about 15 minutes. Watch carefully and do not over-brown. Cool on racks and enjoy!

Mandelbread keeps very well at room temperature, sealed in plastic bags, up to a week. For longer storage, they freeze beautifully.

* resist the urge to omit the tablespoon of shortening. Mandelbread are frequently made with vegetable oil or shortening – Mrs. DuBois actually named “Spry” – so as to remain kosher, using neither meat nor milk. Many modern versions use butter, but a small amount of shortening keeps the cookie texture light. Crisco’s soft “sticks” measure easily and mix well.

“Fines.”

“Not us! It’s yours.”

“Oh? We’ll see.”

…ph-chtt-ph-chtt-ph-chtt…

The three of us watched the tape go up, up and over like a gymnast, finally hitting the counter in a dramatic heap.

…ph-chtt…ph-chtt…PH…chtt.

The clerk tore off the tape and all three of us grabbed for it – Josie actually jumped for it. The clerk looked startled.

(goodbye crazy family – yeah we’re, um, closing now. Right now.)

Greg held the tape high above his head, saying in his most embarrassing dad voice, “now we will JUST SEE what we have here.”

One glance and Josie was elated – eleven dollars, some me and mostly him. It wasn’t her – no Nancy Drew under the bed, no Judy Blume behind the seats. “Ha!”

Greg produced the money – “it’s our donation to the library” – took the new books, and we left. On the way out, Josie loudly recited the shameful yellow list. Satisfied that she was least at fault, she gave it back, asking “Isn’t there some kind of day where you bring the books back and they, you know, forgive you?”

Ah yes. We all know Library Fine Amnesty Day, right? That’s the day you sheepishly put the books on the counter and say thank you, I really enjoyed The Thorn Birds…as a matter of fact, I’ve been enjoying it since 1981. Thanks!

But I have a book that I can’t bring back. One that I checked out of the culinary school library in 1993 – maybe no naming the school just now – and it just…stayed. I was exploring international cookies that semester, and liked their spritz recipe. I liked it so much that I baked those cookies….about 2,000 times.

I meant to bring it back, I did, and could have copied the recipe, I know – but that folded-down corner, buttery and torn, marks so many days in the kitchen. A lot of back page crumbs.

Forgive me, Miss Culinarian Librarian, but they piped so beautifully, browned so golden and melted on the tongue. Blame it on the spritz.

Now I know I’m not alone in my tasty wrong-doing — what’s overdue on your shelves?

Spritskakor (Butter Spritz Cookies)

from The International Cookie Cookbook by Nancy Baggett (Stewart, Tabori & Chang, 1988)

8 oz. (2 sticks) unsalted butter, slightly softened
2/3 cup powdered sugar
1 large egg yolk
1 1/4 teaspoons vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
2 cups all-purpose or unbleached white flour
optional: 1/2 cup finely ground blanched almonds

decorations: pecans, chocolate sprinkles, crystallized ginger, coconut, etc.

Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. Grease several baking sheets with baker’s spray (or line with parchment paper) and set aside.

Place butter in a large mixing bowl and beat with electric mixer on medium speed until very light. Add the sugar and egg yolk and beat until very fluffy and smooth. Beat in vanilla and almond extracts (and ground almonds, if using). Gradually beat in flour until thoroughly incorporated but not overmixed.

Fit a pastry bag with a large (about 3/8″ diameter) star tip. You may also use a cookie press fitted with a star or other tip.

If using a pastry bag: stand the bag, tip down, in a tall glass and turn down a deep cuff at the top. Spoon the dough into it until the bag is no more than two-thirds full. Unfold the cuff and tightly twist the bag closed at the top. Pipe 1 1/4-inch diameter rosettes onto a baking sheet, spacing about 1 1/2 inches apart.

Press any decorations – pecans, coconut, candied cherry halves, etc – into the center of each cookie, if desired.

Place in the center of the oven and bake the cookies for 7 to 10 minutes, or until slightly browned at the edges. Remove baking sheets from the oven and let cookies stand for 2-3 minutes. Then transfer them to wire racks and let stand until cooled completely.

Store in an airtight container for up to a week. Freeze for longer storage.

Make 50-60 1 3/4″ rosette cookies (fewer if using a large, open tip or press)

———

My notes: After making these, literally, some 2,000+ times in every shape and size imaginable, I’d like to offer a few pointers.

Mixing: Beat the butter until the color changes, until it’s nearly white and whipped so soft it makes a slap-slap sound against the bowl. After adding the flour, continue to mix and combine until it is very soft and smooth – don’t worry too much about “overmixing.” Better over than under, because you need a smooth dough that will pipe cookies without breaking your hand.

Ingredients: I never use the ground almonds – I believe the smoother all-butter version pipes better shapes. About the almond extract – a tiny amount can be very strong. If you’re one of those people who think almond extract tastes like cough syrup, leave it out.

Piping: I can’t stress enough how much more beautiful these cookies are when piped with a pastry bag, but a cookie press is also nice. If you do pipe with a bag, experiment with large rosettes, star shapes, s-shapes and horseshoes.

Decorations: There are two ways to go here, pre-bake decoration and post-bake decoration. Pre-bake might mean flaked coconut or chocolate sprinkles, or pressing crystallized ginger, pecan halves or candied cherries into centers. Post-bake includes sifting powdered sugar, drizzling simple glazes or dipping cookie ends in chocolate.

The best cookie trays have a little of both – but you know what? If you’ve no time or inclination for fuss, these cookies are absolutely perfect with nothing at all. That is the true meaning of the words all-butter – all good.

So I made oatmeal cookies.

There are as many oatmeal secrets in America as there are splattered recipe cards – everyone seems to have a grandmother’s trick or a magazine shortcut to oatmeal bliss. Me? Forget fancy training and hand-kissed organics, because I’d never abandon this pleasure: pulling back the Quaker Oats tab with a satisfying “whh-ch,” getting a nice wholesome whiff, and then turning over the recipe to make Vanishing Oatmeal Cookies.

Oh, there are more glamorous recipes, more wholesome recipes, certainly more interesting recipes. But when it comes to oatmeal cookies, I don’t mess with the oven gods. Simple is best, and tradition rules. Still – one gets creative, and on this particular day I sorely tempted Quaker man’s patience by mixing a handful of white chocolate chips into the dough. He looked at me sternly as they went into the bowl. “Dude,” I whispered, “come on. It’s a pool party.”

I say keep the base traditional – it can hardly be improved – and when white-haired guy’s not looking, throw something delicious in for fun. Here are 25 ways to trick out your oatmeal cookies – not necessarily ground-breaking, but all tasty and all in one place. I guarantee they’ll vanish.

25 ways to trick out your oatmeal cookies

1. add extra cinnamon and chocolate chunks
2. add dried cherries, crystallized ginger and a dash of powdered ginger
3. add chopped dried pineapple and toasted coconut
4. add finely chopped granny smith apple
5. add dried currants plumped in orange juice, and the zest of one orange
6. add chopped toffee bits and toasted almond slices
7. add dried wild blueberries and nutmeg
8. add chocolate chips and pecan halves
9. add white chocolate chips and toasted walnuts
10. add a few handfuls of any Trader Joe’s trail mix
11. add a tablespoon of powdered espresso and cocoa nibs
12. add chopped dried pears and white chocolate chunks
13. add chopped candied orange peel
14. add dried cranberries and pumpkin pie spice
15. add chocolate chunks and salted peanuts
16. add grated raw carrot and toasted walnuts
17. add chopped dates and toasted coconut
18. add chocolate chips, chopped walnuts & mini-marshmallows
19. add about a cup of Rice Krispies cereal
20. Chocolate-Dipped: Bake jumbo cookies and allow to cool. Cut cookies into quarters and dip each pointed end in melted semi-sweet chocolate. Allow chocolate to set, and serve.
21. Oatmeal Black and Whites: bake large oatmeal cookies and cool. Make chocolate and white icings (try these icing recipes). Frost one half of each cookie with dark icing, and the other half with white.
22. Oatmeal Faux Macarons: make small, puffy oatmeal cookies and sandwich two with chocolate ganache. Allow ganache to set, and serve.
23. Orange-Glazed Oatmeal Cookies: make a light glaze by mixing 1 cup powdered sugar, 1 1/2 tablespoons orange juice, and pinch of grated orange zest. Drizzle over cookies and allow to dry.
24. Oatmeal Cookie Dip: Bake mini oatmeal cookies, and make chocolate yogurt dip: whisk one cup vanilla yogurt with one tablespoon of cocoa powder and one tablespoon brown sugar. Chill for an hour, then serve with cookies and fresh strawberries.
25. Brandied Cherry Oatmeal Ice Cream Sandwiches: soak dried cherries in brandy and drain. Add to oatmeal dough; bake jumbo cookies and cool. Sandwich with good-quality cherry ice cream and freeze.

Quaker Oats Vanishing Oatmeal Cookie

1/2 pound (2 sticks) margarine or butter, softened
1 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/2 cup granulated sugar
2 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla
1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon salt (optional)
3 cups Quaker® Oats (quick or old-fashioned, uncooked)
1 cup raisins (optional)

Heat oven to 350°F. In large bowl, beat margarine and sugars until creamy. Add eggs and vanilla; beat well. Add combined flour, baking soda, cinnamon and salt; mix well. Add oats and raisins (if using raisins); mix well.

Drop dough by rounded tablespoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets. (or cookie sheets lined with parchment paper) Bake 10 to 12 minutes or until light golden brown – do not overbake. Cool 1 minute on cookie sheets; remove to wire rack. Cool completely. Store tightly covered.

makes about 4 dozen, depending on size of cookie

The evening before, I’d mixed up some rugelach dough – cream cheese dough – planning to make a batch of pick-me-up cookies for a slightly depressed friend.

But I had a slab of incredible pepper bacon sitting around, and unable to resist its black-peppered, smoky goodness, I decided to use half the dough as a base for Tarte Flambee – sort of a bacon and onion pizza – for Friday night’s dinner.

Inspired by my head still in France and modernemama‘s enthusiasm, it was bacony perfection, a license to eat four kinds of fat. Oh my.

Now it was Saturday and I was annoyed in the kitchen. I’d abandoned the white chocolate mess and was huffily munching cold bacon tart. Last I checked I’d come in here to do something, not just eat leftovers. I took another slurp of limeade, grabbed the remaining rugelach dough and looked in the fruit bowl.

Slim pickings. Josie eats drippy nectarines all summer like a fruit bat, and there was only one left.

But with a bit of cream cheese dough for crust, one nectarine turned into four little tarts.

There was still a little dough left. I could make a few rugelach for that sad friend of mine, or – nibbling the last chunk – I could finish it off myself.

Hmm. I had a rapidly decreasing ball of dough, and a few strawberries in the fridge. And a lone kiwi.

After a few minutes of rolling, pressing, more nibbling and baking, there were tart shells.

And the presence of tart shells called for the whipping of cream.

Now I had tart shells, honey whipped cream, strawberries, a peeled kiwi and one bowl of lonely, hardened white chocolate in the corner. I narrowed my eyes.

Please?

Oh, fine. Who wouldn’t forgive white chocolate? You can play too.

So the sad friend led to rugelach which didn’t get made, which led to a tart flambee, four nectarine tarts, some failed white chocolate curls, sliced strawberries, a kiwi and freshly whipped cream.

Finally, it led to a few pretty things at the end of the day. Just for fun, and just to show how when you least expect it, when you are hot and frustrated and sucking down limeade, everything has a way…

…of coming full circle.

Cream Cheese Dough

8 oz cream cheese, cold
8 oz unsalted butter, cold
2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt

Place flour and salt in food processor and process a few seconds, to blend. Chunk butter and cream cheese in pieces over flour, then process, using on-off motion, until dough just forms a ball. Turn out onto floured surface and knead lightly into a smooth mass.

Roll, shape and bake into tart crusts, sweet turnovers, rugelach, and other cookies.
Keeps several days wrapped in the refrigerator, and freezes well.

Josie graduated from 6th grade last night, and though it’s a big deal, it’s remarkable what a big deal they make out of it these days. There has been so much eating and cooking – pizzas for a crowd, calzones for lunch, sandwiches and salads and root beer and real beer. With the warm weather, there is a constant flow of ice from my freezer. There are cookie trays and birthday cakes and baking…

…mixing and dipping and sugaring. As if a life-altering promotion to junior high isn’t enough, my sweet girl is turning twelve tomorrow. Oh, time is flying fast, but she can still be sweet – until she opens her spicy twelve-year old mouth to me with all the knowledge I couldn’t possibly have. Don’t tell her I said this – but thank goodness for spice. Life would be quite dull without it, no?

I don’t recall parties and presents after 6th grade, just a continuing struggle with frizzy hair, Sea Breeze and humiliation from older girls. This is not happening for Josie. She seems to be having a delightful time at this age, and that makes us pretty happy.

Sorry about the lack of recipes and food porn, and please forgive my momentary lapse into proud-mom blogging. But around here my kid is the girl of the hour, so today we’ll give her the last word. It’s not very clear, but I think the sound of being twelve and the itch for drama comes through. From Monday’s recital, here’s the evening that began a week of family, food, and everything nice.

Yes I said Cracker Barrel, the “Old Country Store” restaurant that’s not far off the road, where you see a lot of breakfasts served sunny side up. Their stores up front are full of “vintage” American stuff – cast iron pans and Slinkys and Moonpies and cookie jars. Some of it is crap, and some of it is pretty, pretty enough to pick up and turn over, like my pink-flowered cup and saucer – made in China, I could not believe it.

The set was so delicate and proper it might have rested in the queen’s hand, but I glanced around to check, and I was still in Des Moines. For less than ten dollars they’ve been faking it on my table ever since.

And doing a lovely job, too!