Coconut-Topped Brown Sugar Bars: An OK Day

As days go, yesterday was pretty ordinary. Nobody died, but nobody won the lottery either (nobody I know, anyway). We did ordinary things – we went to work, went to school, made lots of dishes. We bickered too much and hugged too little. It was an OK day.

And that’s appropriate, because yesterday was National OK Day. March 23, 1839 is the date the word entered the lexicon, and there are folks who still celebrate this milestone today. 

Of course, OK can mean dozens of different things. It can mean “oll korrect,” or signify approval, agreement, resignation, or simply mediocre. The fabled history of the word is much more interesting than the coconut bars we made and ate yesterday, which were also OK -- in the “meh, it’s fine. I probably won’t make them again,” sense.

This recipe, from Dorie Greenspan’s Baking Chez Moi cookbook, leans heavily toward candy. With the coconut and chocolate, I achieved the Mounds Bar quality I’d been searching for. But even though I combined sweetened and raw coconut to cut back on the sugar, I still felt the urge to brush my teeth within seconds of wiping the crumbs from my face. Also, the brown sugar base was too crunchy and sweet, even though I under baked it, as other bloggers had suggested.

I’m happy to see that other TWD BCM bloggers (“Doristas” as we’re now calling ourselves) enjoyed the bars more than I did. Clearly these bloggers didn’t have a problem using the caramelized Rice Krispies topping that originally was called for in this recipe.

Let’s face it, I’m just a cereal snob. I’m OK with that.

It Seemed Like a Good Idea

Here's another "cookie" from Baking With Julia. They're called mint-chocolate nightcaps. The nightcap refers to the 'hat' of ganache on top. Cute, huh?

Mint, chocolate, cookies, ganache. What could go wrong? 

Turns out, quite a bit.

When you're hoping for a gussied up homemade mint oreo* and you end up with this, there's bound to be some disappointment among the wee ones (and among the big folks too). 

The cookie sandwiches were really cake in disguise, which was very difficult to eat with your hands. More importantly, the cookies did not compliment the texture of the filling. Perhaps I was a bit heavy-handed on the mint in the ganache, because what I ended up with as both stuffer and sombrero could only be described as mint chocolate toothpaste. Sounds delicious, right?

Wrong.

After snapping a few photos, we ended up scrapping the ganache all together. Then, after licking the sticky chocolate remains off our fingers for a few more days, most of the cookie-cakes also landed in the trash.

Ah well, they can't all be winners. It looks like some of the other TWD bakers may have fared better. Check out their results here.

PS: It turns out there really is such a thing as mint-chocolate toothpaste. Check out these food-inspired toothpastes, from Crest. The flavors were created based on customer feedback, so somebody must have thought it was a good idea. Yeah, me too.
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*I can't remember the last time I actually ate an Oreo, mint or otherwise, but they definitely made an impression.

Surrender.

They look cute, but don't be fooled.

I've faced off against my perpetual enemy, Italian pastry, and I've lost.

I'm admitting defeat but I'm taking a stand.  I've had it with those anti-butter, anti-flour cookie fascists. From this point forward, I'm swearing off Italian desserts. I WILL NOT EAT A SINGLE AMARETTI.

At least not one that I bake.

Because my amaretti are truly atrocious.

I tried to make friends with this recipe, I really did. I chunked up the almond paste, eggs and sugar, and piped my little heart out, giving them a friendly pat with a wet finger, and a tiny chocolate chip peck for good luck. (Somehow I knew that investing in pine nuts would be a waste.) I had my doubts, but I baked on in good faith. Really I did.

Apparently the almond paste I used had an arsenal of it's own sugar, because the cookies I baked came out of the oven ready for battle with my teeth. They were helmet-hard and cloyingly sweet -- brutally mocking my attempts at a truce. After one bite, I knew the Jewish-Italian cultural cookie divide could not be breached. An entire plate of amaretti -- trashed.

This TWD recipe was enough to turn me off Italian desserts forever. Except maybe for cannoli. I'll take the cannoli.

Weapons of cookie destruction: plastic bag for piping, scissors for snipping the corner off the bag, and Rollerworks ruler (acquired at a birthday party circa 1987) for ensuring consistent size of cookies.

Other bakers fared better than I did, it seems. To learn more, check out their posts at Tuesdays With Dorie.

New Beginnings with Baking Chez Moi and Ladies Pucks

How fortuitous is it that the beginning of a new bake-along coincided with the beginning of hockey season? And, as fate should have it, we baked these beauties, literally translated to "Ladies Pucks," from Baking Chez Moi.

Many thanks to Dorie Greenspan and the Tuesdays with Dorie group for timing the birth of this book and baking group so perfectly to fit the Yale Bulldogs' home season opener. I'm sure that was at the top of their mind, right?

The only way it could have gotten better is if the cookies had been called Palets de Monsieur, since it was technically a men's hockey game at which my cookies made their debut. But I won't quibble: I'm a lady, I eat dainty, vanilla and lemon frosted white cookie "pucks" in the literal way. These men, they eat pucks in a "take my teeth out with a three-inch vulcanized black rubber disc going 90 miles an hour at my mouth" kind of way. 

But I digress.

These cake-like cookies bear a strong resemblance to the classic black and white, minus the black. My chocolate-lovers balked a little at this ("what's the point of a cookie without chocolate?"), but they settled down once they tasted them.

I've written about our hockey obsessions before, so for now, let me just say this:

The super-simple recipe came together quickly and performed well under the scrutiny of some of the most discriminating fans. Unfortunately, we can't say the same for the Yale bulldogs this year. We could be looking at a long and torturous hockey season. Thank goodness we've got Dorie's incomparable recipes to see us through. 

You can download Dorie's recipe here. Check out the other Tuesdays with Dorie participants take on this recipe here.

Isn't this a beautiful tray? My mother painted that flower!

Well What Would You Call Them?

Dorie Greenspan always gives her confections clever names like “The Cake That Got Me Fired” and “World Peace Cookies,” not to mention my favorite name ever: “Chocolate Spice Quickies" (all these recipes can be found in this masterful cookbook).

So in honor of Dorie, I’m in search of a name for the cookies I made tonight, which were a version of her “Chocolate Chunkers.”

Please leave your vote for one of the following names in the comments section: 

1. National Bittersweet Chocolate Day Cookies.  January 10, 2014 is officially National Bittersweet Chocolate Day. I'm convinced that these holidays exist so food bloggers have something to write about. Always. 
2. Bake Your Hormones Happy Cookies. A great deal of chocolate is involved with these cookies. Bittersweet, unsweetened, semi-sweet, cocoa powder, and white chocolate if you’ve got it (and you count it). This much chocolate should cure pretty much anything that ails you.
3. Spotless Pantry Cookies. No white chocolate? No peanuts or pecans? No worries. I used walnuts, extra raisins, and extra bittersweet chocolate instead. Use what you've got, then take advantage of the empty shelves to clean the pantry before you restock.
   
4. Hit and Run Accident Cookies. Don't fret: Everyone is safe, and it’ll be much easier to find my car amid all the other Toyotas in the Stop and Shop parking lot now. That’s all you need to know. But after you file the police report, talk to your third-rate insurer, pacify your husband, and call your mother, it's time to engage in a little bake therapy. This cookie recipe will do the trick.
   
   

Don't like any of these naming options? Feel free to share your own ideas. And if you're local, I'm happy to provide samples so you can make an informed decision. 

All votes will be tallied and a winner chosen sometime before National Bittersweet Chocolate Day 2015. Thanks for playing!

And May the Cookies Be Ever In Your Flavor

If you understood the reference above, then you need to see this hilarious Sesame Street video that's been circulating in the media.

For those of you who are fans of young adult fiction, or fans of the Tuesdays with Dorie project, I offer you this, a parachute from our sponsor, Rick Katz's Double Chocolate Cookie:

Alas, these particular cookies were not in my favorite flavor. (I guess I'm too Finnicky.) I've never been much of a chocolate lover. But I love those who love chocolate, so this project was worthwhile for their sakes. Here's what the Master of The House (the MOTH) had to say about it, after a long stressful day at the office:

"(When I tasted the cookie...) I was transported to one of my favorite places—The Chocolate Room (disclaimer, we know the owners). Now with two locations in Brooklyn, The Chocolate Room serves fantastic desserts, and we don’t get there nearly as often as we would like. Tammy's cookie was tasty and soft (much richer and chunkier than store bought), but the flavor and texture was not why eating it made me think of the cafe. 

Taking a bite of that cookie was a moment for me to close my eyes, savor, breathe deep and then be transported to my “happy place.” The cookie triggered memories of being with friends and family, enjoying a treat made with love, and being in a safe place like The Chocolate Room. Nothing but smiles with chocolate-coated teeth. I’ll brush and floss later.

Tammy, and her cooking, often do this for me. She can make me forget about the stressful side of my career. The challenging work, the endless hours, the long commute, the non-stop environment of the office -- these things all melt away when I get home and there is food—made with love—on the table. Sometimes, I’ll admit, that feeling lasts just a moment before the kids climb on me, the blackberry buzzes, and the stack of bills catches my eye. But I have that moment."

He's a real gem, that MOTH. This alliance is one I plan to keep.

Meanwhile, the Thanksgivukkah preparation continues at a furious pace, so our time together is brief. Tick tock!

Check out more bloggers' versions on this double chocolate cookie here. For the recipe, from guest baker Rick Katz, buy the book.

X Cookies: Coulda Woulda Shoulda

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X Cookies, our latest adventure with the Baking With Julia cookbook project, look very impressive. This “grownup fig newton” could have been a showstopper of a cookie.

If only.

• If only I’d picked up the 1/3 measuring cup instead of the ½, when measuring the sugar for the dough.

• If only, when I opened the jar of apricot jam that I’d bought THAT DAY, I hadn’t found this:

  

  Don't worry, I didn't use it. But the filing was definitely lacking something as a result.

• If only I hadn’t substituted candied orange peel for a splash of fresh orange juice.

• If only I’d remembered the egg wash before I rolled up the filling, and perhaps trimmed the edges of my dough.

  

  I know, there's nothing attractive about this photo either. But you need to see how the sausage was made.

Alas, the recipes in this cookbook are not about cutting corners. Lazy cooks are rarely rewarded in Julia’s world. And really, can you blame her?

I’m hopeful that my other TWD friends fared better than I did. If only the recipe didn’t take me FOUR HOURS to complete, I’d try it again.

If you’re game, I’m sure X cookies could be addictively delicious. You can find this recipe, from guest baker Nick Malgieri, in the book, or a slightly altered one on Nick’s website.

In other news from my kitchen: I made this cool marbled rye, from Peter Reinhart's The Breadbaker's Apprentice:

Except I should have been a little gentler with the shaping, because I think I pressed out most of the air in the dough, and this made the loaf a bit bricky.

Some weeks, I should just get out of the kitchen. Some weeks, I should just purchase my baked goods from a professional.

Coulda woulda shoulda.

Underdog Stories

Madeleines with powdered sugar

It’s a lifelong habit of mine to root for the underdog. No matter what the situation, I’ll always empathize with the little guy. Maybe it has something to with being short myself, or maybe I just want a happy, All-American ending to the stories I witness.

This week, I have two stories with happy endings:

First, a quick hockey headline, in case you hadn't heard: YALE BULLDOGS WIN NCAA NATIONAL HOCKEY CHAMPIONSHIP!!! 

(Not a hockey fan? Neither was I, until recently.) 

This win is an enormous accomplishment for a team that was ranked as the 15^th seed in a 16-seed tournament. No one but the slightly delusional yet deeply committed Yale fans had any hope that we’d come home with a trophy. Personally, I think it was my family’s presence in Pittsburgh that tipped the scales, but the boys on the team might ascribe their win to something else – sheer heart.  Either way, it was a fabulous event to witness first hand, and I’m thrilled that we got the chance to go. When Disney comes calling, this story will be ripe for the next made-for-TV special, entitled “The Dogs Have Their Day.”

And for my second tale, I have a story about my most cherished underdog, the MOTH, and his mother, Madeleine. Yes folks, this is obliquely related to the TWD assignment of the week. As I whipped up the eggs for the madeleine cookie recipe, praying that they would ultimately rise to great heights, I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to share a little family lore.

Back when the MOTH-to-be was a junior in high school, working on applications for college, he made a deal with his mother: If the MOTH got into Yale, mom (Madeleine) would buy him a car. The prospect of the MOTH being accepted to an Ivy League school seemed outrageous – no one could deny his intelligence, but his grades and extracurricular activities were less than stellar, to put it mildly. Nevertheless, the MOTH insisted that the deal should be put into writing and stored in a safe place.

As expected, the MOTH didn’t get accepted to Yale for undergraduate school. But somehow, through sheer force of will, the MOTH eventually learned how to study, and earned himself a reasonable degree at a state university. This accomplishment, along with some work experience, gained him entry into a wacky little graduate program at New York University. From there, it was only a small leap to being accepted at the illustrious Yale University for a Master’s in Business Administration. (Okay, so it was a few years of employment, a couple of long-distance moves, then a few years of unemployment and 6 months of wait-listing hell – but the point is, he finally got in!) Approximately eight years after he first began his quest, the underdog had won!

When that acceptance letter arrived in the mail, the MOTH hurried to unearth the agreement that he and his mother had signed all those years before. Upon receipt, Madeleine was true to her word. She bought a car for her son. Unfortunately for him, the car measured about four inches by two inches, and it was produced by the Matchbox company. She claimed the previously signed agreement had expired long ago, citing something about a statue of limitations. But I digress.

The point here is that both these stories have to do with underdogs rising to the top despite all the odds. I’m proud of my husband for all he’s accomplished with his education, and proud of our Yale hockey boys. They’ve all proven that, with a little luck and a lot of perseverance, smart kids can achieve their dreams.

Now about those cookies: I’m not a huge fan of the spongy texture, but I’m happy to report that despite potentially massacring the egg-folding process (let’s just say I’m glad there were no witnesses), they turned out okay. See the photos above and below for details. 

If I make them again, I will add a flavored extract or a quick dunk in chocolate, as other TWD'ers have suggested. This should improve their grades considerably. Then they could be real contenders!

For the recipe, visit Katie and Amy of Counter Dog and be sure to check out the other TWD'ers blogs about madeleine’s here.

Never got to the "airy, pale and tripled in volume" stage, but this seemed close.

Folding in the butter. I think I need professional help.

Overfilled the pans! Don't do this at home.

Sad attempt to make ladyfingers with leftover batter -- without a pastry bag. Take it from me: not all ziploc bags are made the same. And this really can't be done without a tip. Eventually I gave up and scooped the batter into the pan again.

Little Mexican-hat-peaks means I didn't totally deflate my eggs while folding. Win!

Buttery Papaya Preserve Cookies

When I read DorieGreenspan’s description of these cookies, I felt an instant love connection. These cookies are just like me: “a cross between a sturdy cookie jar cookie” (read: salt of the earth, no frills, call ‘em like I see ‘em Buffalo gal), and “more delicate side-of-the-saucer sweets” (read: semi-urban, semi-sophisticated and semi-refined food snob). When the MOTH reads this, he’ll be snarfing his papaya cookie at the idea of me being “refined,” but you get the point. These cookies, like me, waffle between high tea at the Palace and “Mom, whadda’ ya’ have for an afterschool snack?” On second thought, maybe it’s just the tea part of the high tea.

It all started with the jams. My gracious and ever-thoughtful foodie sister, who lives in Atlanta, sends me oodles of local jams and preserves every year. This generally happens the last week in September, after she’s sampled each of the unique offerings at an annual fall festival held in her town. Last September, she sent me this cool papaya preserves from Jill's Jam's. Papaya preserves seemed too high-end to waste on PB&Js, even in our house. And so it sat in the pantry, waiting for inspiration. With the cooler weather upon us and the next shipment of Jill’s Jam’s looming, I urgently needed to clean house. This coincided nicely with my need for a quick sugar fix. Which reminds me ….

The other big bonus about these cookies is they take only minimal effort: about 10 minutes to mix the ingredients and get them on the cookie sheets, 12 minutes in the oven, and they’re done. All you have to do is wait for the kettle to boil and the tea to steep. Which gives you just enough time to invite your semi-urban, semi-sophisticated, semi-refined food snob girlfriends to join you for a nice little afternoon tea.

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Buttery Papaya Jam Cookies

From Baking From My Home to Yours, by Dorie Greenspan

Ingredients:

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 tsp baking powder

½ tsp ground ginger

¼ tsp salt

1 stick (8 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature

2/3 cup sugar

1 large egg

2 tablespoons milk

½ tsp pure vanilla extract

½ cup of your favorite jam or preserves (Dorie uses apricot jam, I used papaya preserves.)

Position the racks to divide the oven into thirds and preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, ginger and salt.

Working with a stand mixer, preferably fitted with the paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer in a large bowl, beat the butter on medium sped until creamy and smooth. Add the sugar and beat for a minute. Add the egg and beat for 2 minutes more. The mixture will be satiny. Add the milk and vanilla and beat just to combine. Don’t be concerned if the mixture looks curdled, it will even out shortly. 

Reduce the mixer speed to low, add the jam and beat for 1 minute more. With the mixer still on low, add the dry ingredients and mix only until incorporated. You’ll have a very thick dough.

Spoon the dough by rounded teaspoonfuls onto the baking sheets, leaving about an inch between mounds (Note: if you don’t roll them into smooth balls with your hands, they will come out of the oven looking a little shaggy).

Bake cookies for 10 to 12 minutes, rotating the pans from top to bottom and front to back at the midway point. The cookies will be only just firm, fairly pale and browned around the edges. Pull the sheets from the oven and allow the cookies to rest for one minute, then carefully transfer them to racks to cool to room temperature.

Repeat with the remainder of the dough, as needed, cooling the baking sheets between batches.

Serve with tea or keep in a sealed container for up to about 4 days.

I Can’t Believe She Ate That!

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I’ve finally unraveled the mystery about why my friends don’t ask me to watch their kids more often. Despite my reputation among the wee ones as being “a really fun babysitter,” and my infinitely flexible stay-at-home-mom schedule, I just don’t get lots of requests to help out. 

Now I know why:

It’s the baking, stupid.

I’ve enlisted their children’s help for one too many baking adventures, it seems. And now I’m paying the price.

Yesterday, apparently in desperation, a friend asked me to hang out with her kids for the afternoon. With my own kids at camp and several long lonely hours of writer’s block staring me in the face, I gladly accepted. Feeling spontaneous and sugar-deprived, I thought a baking project would be a fun idea with which to entertain her troops until my own soldiers came home to relieve me.

At first, everything went swimmingly with these two adorable surrogate kids – we “measured” and cracked and stirred and poured and creamed and whisked. We dusted every available surface with flour and made a fantastic mess of the kitchen. Then it was time to taste the cookie dough.

As I pinched off a bit of the dough and popped it into my mouth, four terror-stricken young saucer-eyes confronted me.

Elder child to younger child: “Did she really just do that???”
Me: “Yup. It’s delicious. Want some?”
Younger child to elder, eager to break the rules: “Can I try it??”
Elder: “Yeah, if you want to DIE!”
Elder to me: “Aren’t you scared of getting salmonella and DYING?” 

Me, shrugging: “Nah, not so much.”

Health risks be damned: I wasn’t going to bake chocolate chip cookies without tasting the dough. It’s a basic rule of mine: if I’m going to create something without a recipe, based merely on my feeble memory of what might go into the classic toll house cookie, I better darn well taste the stuff before it goes into the oven. Otherwise I’d never know if I missed an ingredient, and then I might commit an even more heinous crime than dying: I’d have to throw away the whole batch of cookies.

Tasting the dough is as much a part of the baking process as creaming the butter and sugar or stirring in the flour. It is a critical sensory test. I know there are plenty of home bakers and – heaven forbid – even moms out there who taste their dough before baking it. And I’m here to represent all those crazy bakers who are willing to take their lives into their own hands in the name of a great cookie. Just as my mother led me down the path of culinary evil, I freely admit that I encourage budding young bakers to do the same. And this is why other moms can't fully trust me to keep their kids alive.

The situation reminds me of an old Hallmark card that reads: “Good moms let you lick the batter” (Inside:) “Great mom’s turn off the beaters first.” While I’m not a huge fan of Hallmark, this particular bit resonates with me, simply because It underscores the point that baking should involve a little risk now and then. Otherwise what’s the point? Where’s the fun factor?

Still, I owed it to my poor terrified charges (and their parents) to do a little research into the matter. My preliminary inquiry reveals that while yes, it’s true that salmonella can be carried by unpasteurized, uncooked eggs and flour, homemade dough doesn’t seem to pose a tremendous risk. The raw cookie dough that made everyone sick  last year was factory made. Now there’s a shocker. Eating uncooked processed dough would make me sick too, even without the salmonella. But I digress.

To be fair, the CDC does advise against eating raw cookie dough in any form (homemade or store bought) if you're pregnant or elderly. But as I told the horrified kids, I’ve been tasting homemade raw cookie dough for at least 37 years so far, and I’ve lived to tell the tale. I like to live on the edge. I'm as cool as Andrew Zimmern now, huh?

Meanwhile:  Whoosh. Did you hear that? It’s the sound of my at-home childcare career whizzing away. Not that I wanted another career anyway. My sugar-addicted, freestyle-baker, intrepid-kitchen-warrior reputation precedes me.

But just for the official record, and just as I had predicted: the cookies were lovely. They had exactly the flavor and texture I was going for: sort of a pecan sandy meets chocolate chip cookie. 

Once out of the oven, they were thoroughly enjoyed by our guests. 

And nobody died. Bonus!

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Pecan Sandyish Chocolate Chip "Tollhouse" Cookies

Ingredients:
1/2 pound (two sticks) unsalted butter
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup dark brown sugar

at least 3 cups AP flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. salt

2 eggs, lightly beaten

1 tsp. vanilla

1/2 cup (heaping) chopped pecans
1/2 cup (heaping) semi-sweet chocolate chips

• Preheat oven to 375 degrees. 
• In the bowl of a stand mixer, cream butter and sugar together.
• In a separate bowl combine flour, baking soda and salt.Once butter is fully incorporated into sugar, slowly add eggs. Then add vanilla.
• Slowly incorporate flour mixture into sugar and butter, stopping to scrape down sides of the bowl as needed.
• Test dough with your fingers. It should be fairly thick -- tacky but not sticky. Add more flour, 1/4 cup at a time, until dough has a "playdough" consistency.
• With mixer off, add pecans and chocolate chips. Turn mixer on for just a minute or so, until the nuts and chips are incorporated.
• At this point, you can taste the dough, if you dare. See if you like it. If not, add something -- a few more nuts or chips, a little coconut, some raisins, a couple anchovies -- whatever inspires you! (just making sure you're still awake)
• Drop by rounded, flattened teaspoonfuls onto ungreased cookie sheets (you'll need about 3).
• Bake for 12-15 minutes, until golden brown.
• Let cool on the trays for a minute or so, then remove to a rack or plate to cool completely.

TWD Catch Up: Hazelnut Biscotti

My third appendage is back in working order, and I’m intensely relieved to have my beloved laptop back on top of my lap. I’ve been sans-lifeline for a month now, and, as anyone who’s been within screaming range can attest, it hasn’t been pretty. But let’s put that all behind us and get to the navel gazing, I mean, baking project at hand:

Part I: Weird Science. Or, how kitchen chemistry trounces some seriously determined hazelnut skins.

Ages ago, in early July, the Tuesdays with Dorie baking assignment was to make hazelnut biscotti. Although I didn’t lovelovelove the actual cookies (what is with those Italians and their butterless desserts?), I learned two valuable lessons:

hazelnut-soda brew. Now where did I put that eye of newt?

1.   Never underestimate the power of baking soda. Yes, it has been prescribed as a remedy for countless health and cleaning dilemmas throughout the centuries, but did you know that baking soda can help to de-skin nuts? For these cookies, we added three tablespoons of baking soda to boiling water, dumped in the hazelnuts for a few minutes, and voila! Once removed to a clean towel, the nuts got naked in seconds. Magic.

Fascinated by this amazing process, I did some research on the Internet. It has now been confirmed: I will never become a food chemist. However, I can say with reasonable confidence that the baking soda magic has something to do with alkaline and acidity neutralizing each other, softening the bonds and thus making the skins easier to remove. Isn’t science cool? Mostly indecipherable, but cool.

(You gotta pay extra for the fancy belt).

   2. Liqueur can be fun! The biscotti called for a bit of hazelnut liqueur, so I picked up some Frangelico. I’m told this is pretty popular stuff among the Italian folks, but having grown up in a Jewish (read: alcohol-deprived) household, I rarely have had the opportunity to sample flavored liqueurs.

The biscotti only called for a touch of the liqueur, so the rest of the bottle was mine to enjoy as I saw fit. First I threw some Frangelico into whipped cream for dunking the biscotti (double hazelnut whammy). 

Then, at the advice of my new friends at the wine store, I poured some Frangelico over ice in a fancy little cocktail glass. And wouldn’t you know it? It’s perfect! Frangelico is my new go-to beverage for a happier happy hour. Somewhere between a sweet after dinner wine and a smooth-sharp Scotch, Frangelico has a subtle, syrupy quality -- like a very nutty port without the Nyquil bouquet. I will have no problem working through that bottle. Particularly if I pair the Frangelico with the biscotti, which might be a little more dental friendly after a dunk or two…

Tasty, but dry as a bone. Yup, this is what gives biscotti it's bad rep.

For the recipe, go to: Jodi of Homemade and Wholesome or Katrina of Baking and Boys.