The merriment of the holidays is built on many things: Cheerful wishes of happiness and goodwill from strangers. Cultural memories of sleigh rides across fields of sparkling snow. Even the joy to be found in giving gifts to friends and loved ones.
But really, what makes the holidays merry and bright are all the cookies. How could they not? Cookies are the ornaments that we hang on the Christmas tree of life.
This season, I made seven batches of cookies (so far). That's a lot of sugar and butter, some of which ended up on the floor, but it was worth it.
I started, ominously, with a mistake. I was paging through a French cookbook, saw a recipe for croquets and thought, in my inattentiveness, that it was a recipe for croquantes. In my defense, it was right above a recipe for cream-filled croquantes, so you can understand the confusion.
Croquantes are thin, rolled, buttery cookies, which is why you can fill them with cream. Croquets are thick, hard, crispy cookies that are France's version of biscotti and cannot be filled with cream or anything else.
So I made the croquets, which have a lovely almond flavor kissed with a hint of lemon. They were light enough that they were easy to eat, which was fortunate because they tasted so good I couldn't stop at just one. Or two. Or three.
Next, I went ahead and made the cream-filled croquantes, which were more of a treat than I had even hoped.
I began with my favorite recipe for a simple tuile (croquantes are somewhat thicker than tuiles, and therefore crunchier). The trick to rolling tuiles, and also croquantes, is knowing when to begin.
If you start to roll them as soon as they come out of the oven, they will tear. If you wait too long, they will cool down and become too stiff to wrap around a pencil or the handle of a wooden spoon, which is what I used. You will find success if you place them on the parchment paper onto a wire rack immediately after taking them from the oven, and waiting one minute before starting to roll them.
You have to act quickly, though, because they will soon start to harden. That is why I never cook more than four at a time.
Filling them was easy. I made a ganache with creme fra�che instead of cream, and it was a simple matter to pipe it into the rolled cookies. Then I dipped each end into a bowl of chocolate sprinkles to make them more festive.
It wouldn't be the holidays without chocolate chip cookies, and I simply had to make a batch when I found a recipe with this name: Salted Butter and Chocolate Chunk Shortbread, or Why Would I Make Another Chocolate Chip Cookie Ever Again?
Astonishingly, the cookies actually lived up to their name. I think the secret is that they are made with shortbread _ crisp, buttery shortbread that is somehow just sweet enough. The fact that it is loaded with chocolate certainly helps. And don't forget the salt on top; it helps to make the flavor explode.
Will I ever make another chocolate chip cookie ever again? Probably. But right now I see no particular reason to.
The most sophisticated cookies I made are so elegant that they were originally called "biscuits."
Chocolate Sandwich Cookies (I changed the name from the British term) come to us from Claridge's, England's toniest hotel. Fancy hotels have fancy restaurants, and fancy restaurants make very fancy cookies.
This particular variety takes two light and moderately chewy chocolate cookies, not unlike a chewy meringue, and puts them around a rich layer of silken ganache. They are simply exquisite and, of course, in impeccable taste.
The next cookie I made was more of a crowd-pleaser, more democratic and every bit as desirable. They are called Sweet Slices, and they are a remarkable demonstration of what can be done with just a few simple, basic ingredients.
All you need are butter, flour, sugar, eggs and a touch of baking soda, plus sanding sugar for decoration (sanding sugar is just sugar in large, pretty crystals and can be found in the baking aisle of grocery stores).
When combined in the proper proportion (i.e., lots and lots of butter), these make surprisingly light, surprisingly crisp cookies with a subtly wholesome flavor and the perfect amount of sweetness.
Those same ingredients, minus the baking soda, are all that are used in the very different Berlin Rings that I made next. These have a European sensibility to them, with a highly refined flavor born from hundreds of years of cookie evolution.
By themselves, they are a little dry. But serve them with ice cream or tea or coffee, and watch how great they can be as an enhancer rather than a solo dessert.
For my final batch, I turned to Thomas Keller, who is considered by many to be the finest chef in America. His recipe for Oatmeal Raisin Cookies won't make anyone think less of him.
Yes, they are only oatmeal raisin cookies. But then again, they are oatmeal raisin cookies as perfected by perhaps the finest chef in America. And they are utterly spectacular.
They are also huge. I'm not going to lie. They are the size of a small Frisbee. You could make them smaller if you want to, but why would you want to?
Baking, like much alchemy, is a matter of precision. Keller and his staff have devised the precise formula for the most satisfying oatmeal raisin cookie, ever. The cinnamon, sugar and butter are balanced in perfect harmony with the oats, flour and eggs. Vanilla brings the flavors together, while the raisins serve as sweet, delightful jewels to treasure throughout the cookie.
Just a bite or two, and you will be looking forward to the holidays as that time of year when you make oatmeal raisin cookies.
