Sweetening the Nut

Pictured: Not my peanuts.

Lest one of my rapidly-dwindling readers decide to make a wise remark, I'll just preface this by stating that I am fully aware that peanuts are not nuts; however, "Sweetening the Legume" certainly doesn't have the same ring to it. That said, brace yourselves for yet another of my infamous culinary disasters, which unfortunately seem to happen with frightening frequency. My initial goal of creating my own delicious honey-roasted peanuts (thereby sticking it to Mr. Peanut, the greedy bastard that charges so heavily for these things) remains a distant sight that will hopefully be reached with some minor tweaks to the current recipe.

My more avid readers will find it entirely unsurprising that I stole this recipe from The Kitchn add to the lack of surprise, despite their claims to the contrary, I can safely assure you, the readers that I hold so dear, that the Kitchnfolks who oringially posted the recipe almost certainly didn't even bother attempting it before giving it shining accolades. If they had, I'd like to think that they would have been willing to level with the Internet at large by pointing out that the recipe is very poorly balanced and doesn't work at all (I'll elaborate in greater detail towards the end of this post). However, I do think that the recipe shows promise for tinkering, so it may as well be documented for posterity.

Honey-Roasted Peanuts

(Stolen from The Kitchn)

Ingredients

16oz. Roasted unsalted peanuts*

1/3c Honey

1/2c Sugar

*I don't know that I've ever been able to find roasted unsalted peanuts anywhere. Even if they did exist, they'd be too expensive for this recipe to be cost-effective for anyone other than the aforementioned Mr. Peanut himself. Thus, I settled on using salted peanuts and eliminating the kosher salt from the original recipe. I know that would result in a small sacrifice in texture, but I made up for it with sugar instead.

Preheat oven to 350F

Melt the honey in the microwave until it is liquified and runs smoothly (probably about 1 minute). Make sure not to let it go too long, lest it burn and become unpleasant. Also, don't touch it. Hot honey burns are painful. Pour the peanuts into a large mixing bowl and prepare to make a mess.

Sure, they look innocent now...

Drizzle the melted honey over the peanuts and mix thoroughly. This will require some effort, as honey tends to be somewhat sticky, and honey-coated peanuts like to stick to anything that makes contact with them.

At this point, one hopes that coating the peanuts in salt will help with the stickage. Yeah, let's see how that works out.

Sprinkle the sugar over the peanuts and stir to coat (as best you can). Spread them out onto a well-greased baking sheet and bake for around 20 minutes, stirring frequently to ensure that the peanuts don't burn. You want them to brown, but that's about it. Let them cool before attempting to handle (naturally).

You can't really tell, but the spatula is stuck there. I couldn't remove it. I ended up shooting the entire thing, bowl and all, into the center of the sun. Now I need a new spatula.

Lessons Learned

You will note that I unfortunately did not retain a photo of my actual finished product (I know, you're shocked that the picture up top is not a real result, right?). Suffice it to say that this recipe produced what I would charitably describe as "a gooey mess". See, honey is sticky and messy at room temperature, which is the temperature at which most peanuts tend to be stored. Therefore, coating the peanuts in said goo and then setting them out simply results in peanuts that pack up into clumps and leave a honey-sugar residue on the fingers. This result, while tasty, does not meet my definition of honey-roasted peanuts.

To fix this result, I think it might help to add some of the sugar to the honey during the microwave process in order to create a solution that has been hypersaturated with sugar. One might note that sugar itself is solid at room temperature; therefore, more sugar makes more solid. Baking the peanuts at a lower temperature for longer might also help, as the baking process eliminates water from the coating, which would (hopefully) result in a more solid glaze. Of course, this is just speculation until my next attempt, which should be coming soon!

Burning Rings of Fire

Ahh, doughnuts... I realize that I wax hyperbolic about any number of treats in this forum (corn, cheesecake... oh, and pie, I suppose. Almighty king of cuisine that it is, after all.), but despite the fact that I have rather strong fondness for doughnuts as well, I've resisted attempting them for some time now. This is due to the very simple fact that making them from scratch scares me. There are few enough dishes that I'm unwilling to take on, and even fewer that I adore eating and still avoid, but doughnuts have resided at the top of that list since the idea first managed to lodge itself ever-so-gently in the back of my mind.

I have several reasons (or excuses, perhaps) for this irrational fear; after all, making home-fried doughnuts involves what would be considered a rather large amount of oil that burns like the fire of a thousand suns the moment it splatters onto my hand (as is, of course, inevitable when I do any amount of frying). Furthermore, I have trouble believing that I can surpass the culinary genius that I can experience firsthand in any donut shop for the meager price of ~$7 per dozen with any variety of sprinkles and glazes (not to mention fillings!). But perhaps first and foremost on my list of hangups with these doughy halos relates to the mass genocide of gassy little creatures that make all that is doughnut possible: yeast.

I've never worked with yeast in the past. It's one of those peculiar things that I read about, I understand (to some extent), and even have ready in my pantry--I simply never take that next step to start working with it. I suppose this is due in part to the fact that having never worked with these little bastards before, I really don't have a solid understanding of how to tell when things have gone wrong. With a steak, I can smell and see charring and know that I should reduce the heat. With brownies, I can see an overly-smooth batter and know that I'm going to be eating chocolate bread for a week. With chicken, I can just tell myself I'm going screw it up anyway so there's no sense worrying about it (at which point I make a quick trip to my local sandwich shop, hanging my head in shame. "Hi Shawn!" they'll say, "cooking chicken again, eh?" "Yeah..., just give me the usual.")

With yeast-dependent recipes, on the other hand, I know absolutely nothing, except that my recipe will never end up like the pictures I see online when I follow recipes stolen from others (hi Joy! I did try to warn you I'd be appropriating this one too!). And while I went into this experiment knowing that this was inevitable, I felt that it was time to conquer the fear. Glaring at my tiny packet of instant yeast, I ripped it open in one swipe, determined that I would be ruled by my emotions no longer.

... Naturally, my first opening attempt was a little overly-vigorous and I emerged coated in a fine layer of my would-be enemy. Grabbing a second packet and resolving to be on the lookout for more such trickery in the future, I set to work.

Yeast-Risen Doughnuts
(as "adapted" from Joy the Baker)

Ingredients
1 Package of instant-rise yeast
3 1/4c Flour
1c Milk
1/4c Room-temperature butter
3 Egg yolks
4tbsp Sugar
1tsp Salt
1/2tsp Cinnamon
1/2tsp Nutmeg*
1/2tsp Ginger*
1qt Vegetable oil

*I took some creative liberties with the flavorings, but as you'll see later, it really didn't make a difference.

Procedure
1) In a mixer bowl, mix the flour, yeast, sugar, salt, cinnamon, nutmeg, ginger, until well blended. Note that since I'm using instant-rise yeast, it will theoretically work without giving it a soak in warm water. Subsequent experiments have shown me that while this is true, the rise is much faster if you give it a bath anyway. Tempermental bastards, no?

2) Once the ingredients are homogenized, add the milk, butter, and egg yolks and mix with a dough hook attachment until the mess comes together. Continue mixing at medium speed for ~5 minutes.

3) At this point, you are left with a highly attractive looking lump of dough:

Look at 'em... you know they're up to something...

4) Sprinkle the surface somewhat liberally with flour and cover the bowl with a towel. Set it in a reasonably warm place to start rising (I found that the top of the fridge worked perfectly) and leave it there for about 2-3 hours, or until it has approximately doubled in volume.

5) Sprinkle a countertop with a dusting of flour and turn your engorged yeast lump out onto it. Gently spread it with your hands into a rough circle.

6) Use a rolling pin to roll the circle into a larger circle until it is between 1/4 and 1/2 of an inch thick.

7) Using a pastry ring (or biscuit cutter, or ... um... a tin can or something), cut out doughnut-sized rounds. Use a smaller ring to cut out the holes.

I'm not sure how one would cut holes when using a can, but I trust you can figure something out.

8) Re-roll the dough as desired to get more doughnuts. It's worth noting that the second and third rollings will not be as light as the first batch unless the dough is given more time to rest. Since I'm impatient, I just cut them all at once and said to hell with it.

9) Set the freshly cut doughnuts (and holes!) on a lightly floured baking sheet to rest for about 30 minutes. Coincidentally, this gives you just enough time to start heating your oil in a large heavy pot or skillet. Be sure it reaches at least 350F (or ripples lightly when left standing still) before attempting to start frying.

10) After the oil has come to temperature, carefully drop the doughnuts into the oil, one at a time. Do not attempt to fry more than 3 at once or the oil temperature could drop lower than we want and create soggy doughnuts.

They start browning rather quickly. Be sure to watch them carefully.

11) After about 2-3 minutes, flip the doughnuts with a slotted spoon (or, even better, chopsticks!) and allow to fry on the other side for another 2 minutes.

It's rather easy to tell when they're done... they should really be doughnut-colored.

12) Remove the doughnuts using the same spoon or chopsticks and place them on a wire rack to drain and cool. Repeat steps 10 and 11 with the remaining doughnuts and holes.

13) Glaze with whatever you desire; I'd make recommendations, but I wasn't entirely pleased with how my glaze turned out. I'd recommend finding a recipe that sounds intriguing for that aspect and steal it from there instead. (I used the one from Joy, as borrowed from Alton Brown; it was tasty, but came out very runny and never really firmed up as much as I'd have liked.)

You can see right through the chocolate coating in this version.

This is after I refrigerated the glaze for ~20 minutes and re-dipped the doughnuts. Much better, but still too soft to the touch.

Lessons Learned
Emerging from my epic battle only slightly scathed (damn that oil!), I discovered that the fear had vanished in the surge of triumph. I had destroyed my enemy in classic fashion, allowing no survivors and only slight casualties as a consequence. Still, the yeast had the last laugh; my doughnuts tasted exactly like a loaf of bread, and only the glaze had any chance of changing this. Heavy doses of chocolate and peanut butter calmed the yeast's overpowering taste, but I could hear the bastards laughing all the way down. Next time, I'm making chemically-leavened doughnuts, and to hell with these damn microorganisms. I'll save them for breads and pizza.

Fresh Tomato Salsa

Labor Day: That last hurrah before summer closes. Not that I'm ever particularly attached to summer, mind you; by the time September finally rolls around, I'm generally all-too ready for some pleasant fall weather (fall being my favorite season, but we needn't get into that here). However, I *am* always in support of getting a day off of work, and what better way to celebrate such a day than by having a few friends over with a large complement of snacks and grilled food?

This year being no exception, I had a strong craving for my favorite Mexican "dips": guacamole and, of course, salsa. I've never been terribly drawn to the salsas I've had made with cooked tomatoes, as I like the chunky fresh style. As such, I decided to see how easily I could put together a whole mess of it. As you may have guessed, it wasn't difficult, and yes, it was tasty. Now you may wonder exactly how much of a "recipe" there is to salsa, and I'm inclined to agree; that's why I simply referenced Simply Recipe's version for a basic shopping list before twisting things in my own way.

Fresh Tomato Salsa
(adapted from Simply Recipes)

Ingredients
5 Medium tomatoes (romas work great for this)
1 Red onion
3 Chiles (any type you desire)
3 Cloves of garlic, minced
1 Lime's worth of juice (about 1/3c)
1tbsp Olive oil
1/2c Chopped mint*
Salt to taste

*I use mint because I can't stand cilantro. Judge me if you will, but this actually turned out rather nice. Of course, purists will want to use cilantro instead. To each their own.

Procedure
1) Gather all your components together to make for quick and easy knife work.

Yes, I used 6 tomatoes. It was too many. Always use less than you think you'll need, as it's easier to add than remove them.

2) Dice all the vegetables to the size desired. Since individual tastes may vary, use your own judgement on the size of the chunks.

3) Add the olive oil, garlic, and lime juice and mix in a large bowl until well-blended. Add salt as desired, keeping in mind that the chips will probably also be salted.

Lessons Learned
You might think it's hard to ruin salsa. You're partially right; it's hard to completely destroy, but it's also rather hard (at least for me) to get *perfect*. This version was not it; I went heavy on the tomato and light on the spice. Next time, I'd reduce the tomato a bit and add another pepper (and probably use something stronger than jalapenos for spice). As a final modification, after it sat for a bit, the juice from the tomatoes came out and left a lovely puddle at the bottom for all the components to marinate in. Next time, I'd probably remove the juicy interior of the tomatoes and use just the fleshy components for texture and flavor. That probably also would've enhanced the strength of the spice, making for a better balance and more stability on the chip. Still, I ate the stuff, so it certainly wasn't all bad!

Mutiny on the HMS Hostess

Who would've thought such a simple device could cause such trouble?

As my few readers have no doubt noticed, thus far I have posted recipes that have been considered more or less successful. Even in the instances where the finished product was not something I was looking for, the experience was informative and it ultimately brings me a greater understanding of the product I *do* want. Well, lest you all think that my kitchen is a wonderland of magical materials that render ever attempt perfect, I present what is quite possibly the greatest culinary disaster my kitchen has ever seen: pocket pies.

As a child, I grew up gorging myself on Hostess products, just as my father had before me and so on through generations. The passing down of the Hostess craving was something of a time-honored tradition in our family, and I often found I could make a meal out of nothing more than 2-3 of their handheld fruit pies. (Yes, one would be enough, but one wants a little variety in a meal!) Naturally, as my metabolism has slowed and my fat reserves grown, I have thankfully steered myself out of the fast lane towards diabetes and back towards more conservative eating habits (my lingering bulk notwithstanding). However, when I discovered an episode of Good Eats dedicated solely to reproducing these little delicacies from my youth, there was little doubt in my mind that I would have to at least attempt the recipe and simply hope that I could bring the things into work and thereby spread the guilt joy amongst my coworkers instead.

Be not ye fooled; the photo at the top of this post, if you haven't guessed already, is most certainly not the end result of this experiment. Indeed, this recipe has convinced me that as gods were those who created the Hostess fruit pie, for it is certainly beyond my mortal abilities to recreate my beloved confection. Perhaps this is for the best, as my experience with this recipe has not only convinced me to halt any pie pastry-related endeavors in my near future, but it may have also soured me to the Hostess products I had once adored. Read on, my faithful viewers, and behold the horrific tale that unfolds.

Chocolate-filled Pocket Pies
Recipes adapted from various sources, as listed in each section below.

Pastry Dough:
Recipe appropriated from Laylita's Recipes
3c flour
1/2c sugar
Pinch of salt
2 eggs
8 tbsp butter
8 tbsp shortening
2-4 tbsp cold water

1) Mix the flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl with a fork or whisk until well mixed.

2) Add the butter, eggs, and water and mix until a dough forms.

Funny note: From the looks of things (and upon reflection), I don't think I added the damned eggs!

3) Form the dough into a large mound and flatten out somewhat. Refrigerate the lump for around 30 minutes.

This is what it looked like *before* entering the fridge... However, I let it sit overnight out of laziness.

... yes, there's more to Laylita's recipe, and no, I didn't get there. Due to a combination of complications (including the lack of eggs I mentioned above... damn it), the dough came out of the fridge a powdery mess that refused to coalesce back into the lump shown above. Now, after much reflection, I came up with several reasons for this:

a) Too much sugar in the dough: adding too much sugar can cause the sugar to lay claim to water intended for the flour, thus leaving the flour to be a powdery mess.
b) Too much time in the fridge: combined with the excessive sugar, the extra time simply allowed the sugar to mug the flour particles for their water for an extended period.
c) Lack of eggs: Obviously, the eggs would help as both a binder and a liquifier. With this revelation in hand, the dough recipe might actually be worth trying again sometime. Sometime later.

Regardless of the reasons behind it, I threw out the dough, as I was tired of fighting with it. I decided to roll back to the original recipe's dough instead. But in the meantime, I decided to create the chocolate goo that I was going to fill my pastries with. After all, it's chocolate filling--I couldn't possibly screw it up!

Chocolate Filling:
Recipe appropriated from Good Eats
2.5c sugar
1/4c + 1tbsp cocoa powder
1/4tsp salt
10oz butter

1) Dump the sugar, powder, and salt into a zip-top bag and shake vigorously.

At this point, my shaking was most vigorous, as I was already in a mood.

2) Add the butter to the bag and squish the crap out of it.

Squishing is also a good activity when frustrated.

While this recipe looks fairly innocent, it actually ends up being a huge pain simply because it takes a hell of a lot of squishing to get a uniform distribution between that much butter and that much not-butter! Nonetheless, this was obviously the more pleasant portion of my experiment. Since I did my squishing immediately after placing my pastry dough in the fridge, I refrigerated it until I was ready to pipe it out. Note that if refrigerated, this stuff needs to sit out to return to room temperature before it's easy to pipe out of the bag. So, now that that's taken care of, we can move onto the final portion of this god-forsaken recipe--my second batch (grr...) of dough.

Pastry Dough (Second Incarnation):
Recipe appropriated from Good Eats
2c flour
2tsp baking powder
3/4tsp salt
6tbsp shortening
3/4c milk
1 egg mixed with 1tsp of water (for sealing)

Preheat oven to 350F

I should note that while preparing this dough, I was already irritated with my previous experience, and as such, was not necessarily planning on publishing the recipe. Thus, I didn't take any pictures until the end. I'll have to try to fill in the blanks with my masterful wordsmithing instead.

1) Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl with a fork or whisk. The recipe calls for a food processor, but I really don't see the need at this point, and I don't own one anyway.

2) Knead the shortening into the mixture with your hands until it is crumbly, much like when making a pie dough.

I think the thought "pie dough" is what screwed me up with the first recipe; I never add eggs to pie dough, so I didn't think about it when I blindly omittted them.

3) Add the milk and mix it in with a spatula until the dough comes together. Note that since this isn't actually going to be a pie crust, you don't need to worry about overmixing the dough as excess gluten will not hurt the end texture here.

4) Lightly flour the countertop and your hands and slam the dough onto it. Flour the top of the dough as well.

5) Roll out the dough until it is about 1/3 of an inch thick. I strongly suspect I rolled mine out too thin--yet another bad omen.

6) Cut out rounds of the dough with a biscuit cutter (or other ring approximately 2 inches in diameter). Re-roll the dough as many times as necessary after cutting rounds out of it.

7) Roll each round out slightly to make it ovular in shape and pipe out a small blob of the chocolate filling into each one. Note that this step can (and probably should) be performed one round at a time, rather than all of them at once.

8) Brush the egg mixture across one side of the oval using the tip of a finger or pastry brush.

9) Fold the dough over and try to press out any excess air.

10) Use the tines of a fork to crimp the edges of the pastry and to pierce some ventilation holes in the top of the pie.

11) Repeat steps 7-10 for all the pastry rounds. Place the finished pastries on a baking sheet and bake for 25-30 minutes.

Seems relatively straightforward, if a little long in the steps, right? Well, here we are:

Stupid pies.

As you can see, I took the liberty of placing the damned things on a wire rack, as I figured that would provide better ventilation around all sides of the pie. Even though it would *probably* leave wire rack indentations on the pies themselves, I could live with that. Right? Ha! I bet these things exploded after the first minute, and spent the rest of the baking time laughing at me for my audacity.

Lessons learned:
That I probably won't be trying this again for the time being? I can't say never, as I'll give them another shot at some point, but certainly not for now. Perhaps the best lesson to take out of this is that $1 for a Hostess pie suddenly seems a lot more reasonable.

Meringue Cookies

Ok, perhaps not the prettiest meringues, but also not the least tasty.

I have been told on multiple occasions by a friend I trust that meringue cookies are some of the greatest culinary creations on the planet, as they combine the sugary goodness of pure sucrose with a pleasantly crisp texture that melts in your mouth upon hitting saliva. Combine these traits with the fact that they're actually not horrible for you (by cookie standards, anyway) since they contain mostly air and protein and you've got a recipe for a dessert that won't make you sick from overindulging.

That said, my previous experiments with meringues (which have thankfully not been documented) produced less-than-stellar (and in my opinion, less-than-edible) results, and the treats remain something that seems to stymie my culinary adventures. Many cooks have their various versions of kryptonite, be it cheesecake, soufflés, fried dishes, or edible brussels sprouts (admittedly, that last one is impossible), we all come across stubling blocks in our advancements in the kitchen. Of course, that's part of the appeal; what fun would it be if every dish came out perfect? ... Well, that'd probably be tasty, but then I would also know I'm in the wrong industry. Nonetheless, these little challenges can and must be attempted time and time again in order to produce the perfection that every chef strives for until they actually reach it.

This incarnation of my meringues actually didn't come out too poorly; my previous attempts were ruined by the fact that I generated cookies that were far too large for such a light texture and the flavor balance was off. In this attempt, I stuck to the recipe (which I heisted and adapted only slightly from The Kitchn) in hopes of finding a happy base camp from which to start in my next attempt.

Meringue Cookies
Ingredients:
3 egg whites, at room temperature
1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar
3/4 cup fine white sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla

Procedure:
Preheat oven to 300F
1) Place the egg whites in a large mixing bowl (ideally, the bowl of the stand mixer you will be using to whip the things into a froth) and mix them with a whisk for a few moments to get some starter bubbles going. I prefer starting out by hand as opposed to using the mixer at this point, but your mileage may vary.


2) Start beating the whites on medium speed and add in the cream of tartar. Continue mixing until something resembling sea foam starts to form.

I was actually rather proud of this image, as it was taken when the mixer was in motion. I was very surprised the beater came out clearly.

Note: The cream of tartar raises the acidity of the mixture, which helps sustain the bubbles produced. It's worth noting that other recipes similar to meringues (such as pavlova) call for vinegar instead, which has a similar effect.

3) When it reaches the "sea foam" stage, start slowly drizzling in the sugar. I used a 1/4c to scoop and then gradually poured it in; the idea is to ensure that the sugar dissolves gradually and completely, as if you dump it all in at once it can come out somewhat grainy.

Note that since the last image, the mixture has just about doubled in volume.

4) After adding the sugar, turn the mixer to high and whip away until the foam has a glossy finish. You'll know it is done when it reaches the "stiff peaks" stage, or when it will stand up on itself (see below).

The mixture should resemble very shiny whipped cream, depending on how you like your cream.

Note: The stiff peaks term refers to a common means of describing meringue structures. To determine the meringue's peak status, scoop the beater into it and pull away--a point will form on the end. Turn the beater upside-down to determine the level of the peaks: soft peaks means the foam bends to form almost a mound, medium peaks it bends but leaves a loop of air underneath, and stiff peaks means the peak remains a point (or slightly bent).

At this point, you can certainly scoop spoonfuls of the meringue onto a silicone mat (or very very well greased baking sheet--these things can stick!) using a spoon if desired. However, many recipes call for using a piping bag and making very pretty formations with the aid of a piping tip set. Now, I have neither of those, but the spoon method has never paid off for me either, so I had to get creative:

The ghetto-fabulous piping set, for cooks who don't want to spend money. I snipped off the corner to allow piping.

5) Use your newly-created piping bag to squeeze out small piles of meringue (imagery obviously very much intended, judging by my photo below). Make sure the piles don't get too large, as the bigger ones will simply crumble under their own weight during cooling.

Aww, aren't they cute? I added some mint leaves to a dozen or so simply out of curiosity.

6) Bake at 300F for approximately 2 hours; the idea is to bake all the moisture out of the cookies, as any remaining water can cause a cookie collapse during cooling.

Lessons Learned:
As an afterthought, I would recommend allowing the cookies to cool in the oven for at least an hour after baking; this will aid drying somewhat and allowing the steam inside to settle slowly (as opposed to cooling rapidly outside the oven) could help the cookies retain their structure. I haven't tested this, but I wish I had this time around, as some of the meringues still had moisture left and the ones with mint leaves collapsed a bit. That said, the mint lent an interesting flavor to the end result; I wouldn't try it again, but it was worth a shot.

A final note for the recipe: I don't think I like meringues. They tend to be a bit too sweet for my tastes, and to be honest, I like more substance from my cookies. But they're at least easy to make!

The Perfect Chocolate Chip Cookies (Experiment)

At the risk of making this appear a dessert-oriented blog, I am adding yet another incarnation of cookies to my archives. That said, I have a valid excuse this time! ... Well, an excuse. Besides, who needs to rationalize the production of cookies?

The inspiration for this experiment (the purpose of which will be explained shortly) stemmed from two major sources: The Kitchn, a delightful blog that I frequent daily, posted an article written about a column in the New York Times that claimed to have the secret to the best chocolate chip cookies ever. Now, aside from providing me a number of links to rattle off in a rapid-fire sequence to confuzzle my sparse readers, these sources pushed me to settle for my own satisfaction just what makes a great chocolate chip cookie. To summarize the experiment, the article in the Times claimed that the secret to making these cookies traverse the distance that separates "good" cookies from "better-than-sex" cookies (quotes added for dramatic effect) is the extra 24 hours of time spent chilling the dough after all the ingredients have been mixed. Upon reading this (and the subsequent rationale, which does indeed attempt to make decent sense), my patented bullshit alarm went off and demanded that I verify this claim for my own satisfaction.

For those too lazy to read the linked articles above, the recipe is rather complicated (at least as far as cookies go) and includes a variety of ingredients taht do not make common appearances in my kitchen (such as both bread and cake flours). Consequently, I made some substitutions. Now to those who have alarm bells going off after that remark, allow me to explain. The original recipe calls for a hefty helping of cake flour with an additional dose of bread flour to balance it out. Since the article doesn't explain the basis for this ratio, I'll fill in my own understanding: cake flour has less protein than other flours (e.g., bread, All-Purpose, etc.) and therefore contains less gluten, which will make for a lighter and "less-chewy" dough. Bread flour, conversely, generally contains what leading food experts refer to as a "crapload" of protein (and gluten), and thus produces the opposite effect. It can thus be assumed that the ratio of cake to bread flour called for in the recipe is carefully calculated to produce the desired texture and consistency in this cookie. However, I'm of the opinion that since the recipe is using both, substituting the All-Purpose ("AP", henceforth) flour that I currently have two 10-pound bags of in my kitchen will still produce a nice medium between the two flours. The difference in protein content should be rather negligible, and if nothing else, it's small enough that I don't want to go out and buy two bags of flour for a single experiment when I have tons of AP stuff at home. That said, those of you who feel this is an inappropriate substitution for this particular recipe can go run your own experiment and prove me wrong. My experiment (not to mention my money), my rules!

But back to the experiment itself. To explain my BS alarm mentioned previously, I don't disagree that resting the dough would produce a difference in the cookies. What I take umbrage at is the fact that if I want to make cookies, I'm not going to put things together and then wait until the following day to get my fix (a sentiment that seems to be reflected in the comments to The Kitchn's post), and I truly doubt that allowing "the flour to take time to absorb the liquid in the dough" (as is explained in the Times' article) will make any noticeable difference in texture, let alone flavor. But of course, that is the entire rationale behind this test. ... Which reminds me that I still haven't explained my experiment. I propose to make two batches of these heart-attacks-in-waiting: one batch will be made exactly as directed by the recipe (aside from the substitution described in the previous paragraph) while the other batch will simply use the same ingredients as the original recipe, thus eliminating the wait period and allowing me to get my cookie on quicker. Two doughs enter, 40-odd cookies leave, and whoever I can persuade to help me gets to be the judge.

"The perfect chocolate chip cookies"
Ingredients:
2 cups minus 2 tablespoons (8 1/2 ounces) cake flour
1 2/3 cups (8 1/2 ounces) bread flour
1 1/4 teaspoons baking soda
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt
2 1/2 sticks (1 1/4 cups) unsalted butter
1 1/4 cups (10 ounces) light brown sugar
1 cup plus 2 tablespoons (8 ounces) granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
1 1/4 pounds chocolate chips
Sea salt (for topping)

Procedure:
Since I'm making the same recipe twice, I'm not going to write out two different procedure sections with separate photos for each. Just trust me that the process looked the same both times.

Preheat oven to 350F.

1) Mix the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and coarse salt in a bowl until well mixed and set aside. It should be noted that this process doesn't only mix the ingredients--it also aerates the dry ingredients, allowing for more "fluffage" of the mix. This results in a lighter cookie texture.

Yes, I used a fork instead of sifting. I hate sifting. I don't own a sifter. Fork it.

2) In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugars together until fluffy.


3) Add the eggs, one at a time, allowing the first to fully incorporate before adding the second. Top off with the vanilla. The mixture will become creamier, in a sense.


4) Slowly incorporate the dry mix into the bowl, either by using a mixer on its lowest setting or by adding a little at a time and mixing by hand. It's important to do this slowly so that the dough doesn't develop too much gluten and become overly chewy.


5) Finally, add the chocolate chips and try to distribute them evenly throughout the dough. At this point, the dough will be frustrating and difficult to work with (by my standards, at least), and you'll probably be glad to set it aside to rest.


6) Wrap the dough tightly in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 24 hours.

Note: From my experience, I'd recommend flattening the dough into a square before refrigeration. This way, upon removal from the fridge, you can easily slice it into individual cookies. Chilling it in a ball (as I show below) results in a hard block that must be attacked repeatedly in order to break it into chunks.

The labels, I trust, explain themselves.

7) After the dough has chilled, remove from the wrap and divide into balls about the size of an ice-cream scoop (with the chilled dough, the ice cream scoop itself doesn't work, as it's hard as a rock. The unchilled dough, however, scoops perfectly).

Note my highly sexy silicone baking mat. Ugly appearance, fantastic functionality.

8) Place 6 cookies on a greased baking sheet and sprinkle them with a little sea salt on top. Bake at 350F for 19-20 minutes. Note that the cookies will expand, so leave enough room for this. Remove them when they are slightly golden on top and just browning at the edges.


9) Allow them to rest on the baking sheet for a few minutes, then move the cookies to a cooling rack to finish firming up. Place in the transport vehicle of your choice (mine shown below, violating company trademarks in the process) and consume as necessary. Makes somewhere around 20-25 cookies, depending on how exact you are.

Tell me that without the labels, you could tell which was which. I dare you.

Results:
As I mentioned before, I didn't expect any noteworthy differences in the flavor of the cookies, but did expect some differences in appearance. Since the refrigerated dough's butter had a chance to re-solidify after mixing, I expected the chilled cookies to be puffier, as they would have less time to spread in the oven. Much to my surprise, both batches came out looking virtually identical. Furthermore, they tasted the same! Texture, flavor, appearance, all identical! It would appear that my BS detector had indeed properly identified yet another pointless waste of time in the culinary world, but of course, I couldn't let myself be the only test subject. After soliciting opinions from roommate and coworkers alike, I received the following opinions:

• Can't tell the difference
• Unchilled is "buttery-er"
• Chilled is "saltier"
• You're lying; these are the same cookies
• Is this a social experiment to see who will attempt to find differences that aren't there?
• Are you sure you're not lying?
• You're a liar!

... So aside from continuing to develop my reputation as someone who cannot be trusted, it would appear that the overwhelming opinion sides with me, in this case. Now I realize that since I modified the recipe to a small extent, the whole process might be considered invalid. That said, it's valid enough for my tastes, as I simply wanted to find out if being lazy with my cookie process was really hurting my cookie flavor. Other blogs have done a much more in-depth analysis (from what I've seen, at least), but I figured this would be a fun way to prove my baking instincts correct as well as to fatten the wallets of my coworkers' doctors. As I'm currently working my way through my fifth cookie today, I can safely say that I can literally feel my arteries hardening up as I type.

Peanut Butter Cookies

Shown with chocolate chips. Although not technically necessary to peanut butter cookies, I'm not entirely sure why anyone would choose to omit them.

After the recent culmination of my brownie recipe (final draft not posted yet, as it currently resides on a hard drive without a home), I set my culinary sights onward and, in the opinion of some, upwards. Like many of my more successful attempts, this peanut butter cookie recipe is most heartily stolen from Shari's blog and modified for my own amusement. This is, of course, no slight on her original draft; I simply prefer the texture that my minor tweaks permit. On the downside, this recipe blows through brown sugar like nobody's business, so be prepared to run out in the middle of the baking process. ... Not that that happened to me. I ran out of peanut butter too.

As anyone who clicked on the link above can observe, Shari's recipe is a study in balance: equal parts shortening and butter as well as equal proportions of white and brown sugar. I never had a problem with this balance... until that fateful day.

Like anyone else, I am a creature driven by whims--perhaps more so than most, but that's not really the point--and as such, when I develop a craving for cookie with a peanut buttery core, I spring into action like a well-trained walrus rolling into the water. On this day, I splashed into my pantry only to discover that I had managed to let myself run out of sugar! (well, I had half a cup) ... Gasps are in order here, folks. Work with me!

My mind whirled as I dug through the cupboard with the desperation of an addict looking for that "one last hit". What could I possibly do without white sugar? My mind absently pondered the implications of comparing myself to an addict whilst lamenting the lack of a product termed "white sugar" when I stumbled across a hidden cache of potential culinary gold: powdered sugar (ah! The drug metaphor continues to work!)--which I decided not to mess with for the time being. However! Contained within that cheap faux-Tupperware powdered sugar compartment was a small bag of white sugar's more flavorful and complexificated cousin who is always seen lurking in big brother's shadow, all the while really carrying the weight on his own shoulders.
Emerging from the pantry with my score, I hoisted the entire bag off so we could get reacquainted. Having done cookie research prior to this situation, I knew that to a cookie, sugar was (mostly) sugar, and as such, my old-new friend would be more than happy to help me get my next fix. It is worth noting that the sugar substitution results in a "chewier" cookie, which was just fine with me. The result of my tweakage? A pile of crumbs, a newly-discovered favorite, and several extra pounds around my waistline. The recipe? Observe!

Preheat oven to 375F

1/2 cup Crisco

1/2 cup butter

1/2 cup white sugar

1.5 cup brown sugar

1 cup peanut butter

2 eggs

3 cups flour

1 tsp. baking soda

1/2 tsp. salt

1 tsp. vanilla

It is worth noting that this recipe works great in a stand mixer, but can be done by hand as well.

1. In a large bowl, cream the butter and shortening together for a few minutes until you have a paste that resembles dense frosting. Add both types of sugar and continue creaming until the mixture resembles dense frosting with sand mixed in.

2. While the butter/shortening mixture is creaming, mix all the dry ingredients in a large mixing bowl. Set this aside until step 6 below.

3. Add the peanut butter to the wet mixture and mix well, until the it is no longer readily apparent in the dough.

4. Add the eggs, one at a time, making sure the first completely incorporates before adding the second.

5. Top it off with the vanilla, and continue mixing until there remains no evidence of any of the individual ingredients.

If you decide to add anything (i.e., chocolate chips, nuts, etc.) to the final cookie, this is the time to do it.

6. Slowly add the dry mixture, mixing steadily to ensure that the dry ingredients incorporate properly without clumping up. Of course, this step is where the stand mixer shines; however, if working by hand, simply drop the dry stuff in about a cup to a cup and a half at a time and mix until it incorporates. After all the dry has been mixed in, you will have a very loose dough that will clump properly when compressed.


7. Scoop the dough with spoons (I like to use an ice cream scoop) into balls about 1 to 1.5 inches in diameter and place them on a greased cookie sheet. Try not to compress the dough too much in this process, as doing so can create a denser cookie. Of course, if that's what you're after, go to town.


8. Bake at 375F for about 14 minutes for a cookie portion the size of an ice cream scoop. Note that since this recipe makes a hell of a lot of small cookies, the exact time can be determined through trial and error with relatively little consequence (the "rejects" are always the best part anyway).

9. Allow the cookies to cool on a rack until they can be handled without burning your fingers. Stockpile or consume as desired!

Onion Dip

Last weekend during the NFL draft, my roommate and I decided we needed a large quantity of junk food to properly celebrate the first real football-related action during the long drought that is known as the off-season. As part of this master plan, I determined to cobble together a mess of loose ingredients I had left over from various other projects into a functional dip. I've always enjoyed onion dip more than salsa or plain ranch, and since I had seen a recipe for it on TV recently, I decided to give it a shot.

Recipe stolen virtually unmodified from Good Eats.

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons olive oil
1 yellow onion, diced
4-5 green onions, diced
1 shallot, diced
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt
1 1/2 cups sour cream
3/4 cup mayonnaise
1/4 teaspoon garlic powder
3-4 grinds of pepper
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt

Heat a medium sautee pan on medium heat and add the oil. Once the oil is warmed, add the yellow onion, shallot, and 1/4tsp salt. Sweat the vegetables, stirring occasionally, until they are browned and soft (the linked recipe claims about 20 minutes; I left it for about 25 or so) and add the green onions. Sautee for another minute or two and remove from the heat to let the veggies cool. At this point, the onions should look like this:


While the onions cool, mix the sour cream and mayo in a mixing bowl until its thoroughly blended. Add garlic powder, salt, and pepper and mix again until the ingredients are incorporated, as shown below:


Mix the onions into the cream/mayo bowl and stir with a spatula until the vegetables have been distributed. Cover and refrigerate for at least an hour to let the flavors meld properly. Make sure to stir the mixture again before serving, just to loosen things up a little. Serves more than two, in my experience, and goes well with potato chips, veggies, or other things you dip into stuff.