Russian Italian Wedding Tea Cakey Cookies

I used to gorge myself on these at Christmastime, when, at family gatherings, some aunt more domestic than my dear mum* put out scores of treats on festive trays next to the trough of eggnog (which my uncle spiked one year and then, feeling très guilty and nervous that people might unknowingly drive drunk, downed by himself. That was almost as funny as the time my mom and I bought a condom in a fake walnut shell at a gag gift store and added it to the other walnuts in a bowl at my grandparents' house. I still don't know if anyone every cracked that particular nut.... As you can see, my childhood was not exactly big on decorum. I was basically raised by wolves.)

So, back to the cookies: I've always loved them (they're rolled in a drift of confectioner's sugar! What's not to adore? [Speaking of which, I love the term "confectioner's sugar," as in, a sugar used by a confectioner, as in, someone who makes confections, as in, a fancy dish or sweetmeat. I mean, why do people call themselves BAKERS? Why not call themselves CONFECTIONERS? Henceforth, I'll refer to myself as a CONFECTIONER! CONFECTIONER CUSICK])

Anyway. I was bored on Sunday. Yoges? Check. Laundry? Check. Quick chat with Sarah about Rock of Love Bus? Check. Quick run to Bed, Bath & Beyond? Check. (I bought some new eyeliner on a tip from Marge; she swears by Prestige brand liner, and I somehow think using it will give me her thick, dark fringe of lashes. Sigh).  Short stroll to enjoy the tropical 40-degree temperatures? Check. All that was left to do was bake!

To the cookbook shelf! For Christmas, my darling brother got me Mark Bittman's How to Cook Everything and, wanting to know how to cook something, I flipped to the cookie section. Italian Wedding Cookies caught my eye because I figured they must be pretty simple — a more rotund, dandruffy sugar cookie, really. These little sweeties are also known as Russian Tea Cakes, a name I prefer because these baked goods leave your mouth coated in a cakey, sugary film and I think they'd be aces washed down with afternoon tea. While wearing big Russian fur hats. And contemplating diving under a train. And being a communist. Maybe we should call them Communist Cookies? After all, they do look rather uniform ... and snow-covered, right?

*I should note that this year for Christmas, my mom whipped up no less than four varieties of treats, wrapped them in merry tins, and gifted them to various aunts & uncles & cousins. Well done, mum! Her Scottish shortbread was the cat's PJs. The cat's BUTTERY PJs.

Maybe I'll give that recipe a whirl next!

The Ingredients

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened

1 1/2 cups confectioner's sugar, plus more as needed

2 cups all-purpose flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 cup chopped salt

1 cup chopped walnuts, hazelnuts, pecans or almonds

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

several bits of milk chocolate (my addition)

Use an electric mixer to beat the butter until light and fluffy. Add 3/4 cup of the confectioner's sugar and cream together.

Combing the flour, salt, and chopped nuts in a bowl. Add the dry ingredients to the dough and beat until just combined. Stir in the vanilla.

Shape the dough into a disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes or as long as 2 days (or wrap very well and freeze indefinitely).

Heat the over to 350 degrees. Roll the dough in 1-inch balls, inserting a smidgen of chocolate into the center of each ball. Bake on ungreased baking sheets until the tops are just turning brown and the bottoms are golden brown, 10 to 12 minutes.

Put the remaining sugar in a pie plate or shallow bowl. Cool the cookies on the sheets just enough so you can handle them; use a spatula to transfer them in batches to the plate of sugar. Roll each cookie in the sugar until coated and then transfer to a rack to finish cooling. Roll them in the sugar again once cooled. Store in a tightly covered container at room temperature for no more than a day or two.

(These suckers do break really easily when they're warm. Do be gentle when rolling them in the sucre! I broke two and had to eat them right away and then I basically fell into a sugary, wine-compounded food coma for the rest of the evening.)

Yo, Ho, Ho and a Bottle of Rum

There's something you should know about my baking habits: I like alcohol. That is to say, if I can find a recipe for a cake that includes a cup or two of booze, I'm bound to be happier than a coon dog on a bare leg. One day I'll post about the chocolate Guinness cake make — but until that day, friends, you'll have to settle for rum. Delicious, sugary, gut-warming rum.

Friday was my dear friend Jamie's birthday. For this special occasion last year I, in a flurry of makeup application and hair goo, got ready for Jamie's birthday party whilst throwing together two dozen cupcakes ... from the box. I know, I know. It hurts me as much as it hurts you. But they were Funfetti and I was pressed for time!

This year I felt I owed dear James a from-scratch treat. Either that, or a nice bottle of booze. But then (smacks forehead) I realized that one most certainly does not preclude the other. Remembering the lovely bottle of dark rum sitting by my bed (unopened and procured while on a trip to St. John last June) I decided a rum cake would be just the thing. Plus, my darling Jamie is a fan of all things retro, and to me rum cake conjures images of women from the 1950s in brocade dresses and cerise-hued nails sneaking swigs of Bacardi while baking for their in-laws. And truth be told, the night I made this cake I'd gone out for a few vodkas with the MJ crowd and let's just say my cheeks were rosy.

Anyway, I began searching for recipes only to find myself left utterly limp by the rum cake photos I came across. Maybe it's because it's winter, but the sight of those pale tires of gelatinous crumbs topped with maraschino cherries was just not doing it for me. I wanted a cake with a little meat on its bones, a cake with a little COLOUR, a cake to make you swoon.

Enter Mocha Rum Cake (which first appeared in Gourmet magazine in 1994.)

Friends, this is the first time I've created a gateau in a bundt pan (I had to dash over to Bed, Bath and Beyond just before it closed to obtain one), but let me just say, it was totes worth the extra legwork. The cake, which must have weighed about twenty pounds, was moist, dense and sweet — but not cloyingly so. My coworkers devoured the thing, leaving only a halo of crumbs where the cake had been. I guess this isn't a surprising response to a concoction that called for three sticks of butter, two cups of sugar and 3/4 a pound of chocolate .... (in my boozy state, I had to call a math-savvy friend of mine to ask him how many ounces make a pound because I couldn't fathom putting the two bricks of chocolate I was holding into one cake. But into that cake then went.)

Oh, and because I felt compelled to make the cake as ridiculous as possible, I forewent the fresh whipped cream toping the recipe called for and instead make a sugary, buttery, rummy glaze. Because, really, if you buy four sticks of butter you may as well use them all.

Happy birthday, James!

The Ingredients

For the Cake:

cocoa powder for dusting (the cake, not your shelves)

3 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/2 teaspoons baking soda

3/4 teaspoon salt

3/4 pound fine-quality bittersweet chocolate (not unsweetened), chopped*

3 sticks unsalted butter, cut into cute little cubes

1/3 cup dark rum

2 cups strong brewed coffee (next time I think I'll do 1 cup of coffee and 1 1/3 cup dark rum because, you know, why not)

2 1/4 cups granulated sugar

3 large eggs, beaten lightly

1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract

confectioner's sugar for dusting

lightly sweetened whipped cream (again, I left this out and went for a glaze)

For the Glaze:

1 stick butter

1 cup sugar

1/4 cup water

1/2 cup dark rum

Preheat oven to 300°F. Butter a 4 1/2-inch-deep (12-cup) Kugelhupf or bundt pan and dust with cocoa powder, knocking out excess. (Ahem. Cough. I used instant hot chocolate mix because I could not find the right stuff in our cabinets.)

In a bowl whisk together flour, baking soda, and salt. In a large metal bowl set over a saucepan of barely simmering water melt chocolate and butter, stirring until smooth. Remove chocolate from heat and stir in rum, coffee, and granulated sugar. With an electric mixer beat in flour, 1/2 cup at a time, scraping down side, and beat in eggs and vanilla until batter is combined well. Pour batter into prepared pan.

Bake cake in middle of oven until a tester comes out clean, about 1 hour and 50 minutes. Let cake cool completely in pan on a rack and turn it out onto rack.

To make the glaze, melt the butter in pan. Stir in water and sugar. Boil 5 minutes. Remove from heat — stir in rum. Generously.

Note: My glaze seemed a bit watery, so I refrained from pouring it all on the cake for fear I'd have a soggy mess on my hands. Now, after eating the thing, I know better: Next time, I would slosh all the glaze right on there. In fact, my friend told me his grandmother used to just pour a whole bottle of rum onto her finished cake ... and really, I think there's probably something to be said for this approach.

My First Time With a Blondie

Anyone who knows me knows I love a tasty homemade baked good. Scones, chocolate chip cookies, chocolate cakes infused with Guinness — these are a few of my favorite things. The thing is, I like making treats almost as much I like consuming them. I like to believe it's because I'm a Cancer and we love food and we love to nurture, therefore, nurturing with food is like the perfect storm of deliciousness. Sick? Chicken soup with dill and parsnips, pronto! Tired? Something chocolately, quick! Cold? Some sort of cheesy carbohydrate, stat! Heartbroken? Xanax Pie! Just kidding. Ish.

Anyway, last night I was freezing and under a slew of comforters reading a great book (review to come soon!) and I could just not get tired. Eleven PM rolled around and I felt I could still turn cartwheels around my abode. The frigidity of my apartment conjured in my brain images of warm things: Hot chocolate. Fires. S'mores. I needed to bake!

Now the thing about my kitchen (and two great bakers live chez moi) is that we are always lacking one of the ingredients needed for whichever recipe we're trying to make. We're always short just one tablespoon of butter (and lord knows you can skimp on the beurre), or our eggs just expired last week, or the only milk we've got around is organic triple soy delight (this does not lend itself to the sort of decadent delicacies I desire.) But last night? Friends, we had it all. The stars had aligned, and so had our chocolate chips. I prepared to make my staple: Cookies with three types of chips — white chocolate, butterscotch and milk chocolate. But visions of swapping trays and juggling various batches of dough pained me. I wanted, if possible, to make ONE BIG COOKIE so I didn't have to scoop out five-dozen little diddies.

And then it hit me: BLONDIES! I LOVE Blondies, but I've never made them. And I've always wanted to! And they are basically one big cookie! One big, buttery brick of cookieness. By the way, I just adore biting into Blondies: the firm, sweet coolness and occasional texture of chocolate chip really does it for me. Thank you, Google Gods, and thank you, foodnetwork.com for this fabulous recipe. They turned out well (see above).

This morning, I had two of the suckers for breakfast. I figured they're basically muffins, just more square and flat.

The Ingredients

• 1 1/2 cups firmly packed light brown sugar
  
• 1 cup unsalted butter [this is two sticks]
  
• 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon fine salt
• 2 large eggs
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• About 1 1/2 cups butterscotch, semisweet chocolate, peanut butter, or white chocolate chips, optional [I used butterscotch and both white and milk chocolate chips]
  

The Directions

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter and flour a 9 by 13-inch glass baking dish.

Put the sugar in a large bowl. Melt the butter in a small skillet or in the microwave in a glass measuring cup. Stir the butter into the sugar until smooth, cool to room temperature.

Meanwhile, in another medium bowl, whisk the flour, baking soda, and salt together.

Beat the eggs and vanilla into the sugar mixture. Add the flour mixture a bit at a time and mix until a smooth thick batter forms. Fold in the chips, as desired.

Spoon the batter to the prepared dish and spread to evenly fill the dish. Bake until the blondies are light brown around the edges and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean, about 20 to 25 minutes.

Remove from the oven and let cool slightly. Invert onto a rack and cool completely. Cut into squares and serve. Eat for breakfast, with a glass of milk.

Risottos Are Red

This weekend I visited my dearest Alison in our nation's capital. She and I are both social and foodie sorts, so as often as possible we combine these two passions for fêtes avec food. True to form, this weekend we threw a small dinner party. For company, we had what Alison's adorable 15-year-old brother deemed "a smart group." And it's true that the conversation never disappointed (especially when we went around the room and each announced how many times we'd been in love. Try that the next time you're in a group that includes some perfect strangers and some newish couples.)

As for the FOOD: Alison whipped up a succulent concoction of chicken legs, prunes, white wine, olives, and almonds. She'd let those bird gams marinate for hours and hours and oh my, were they delicious for it. We also put out several types of cheese (thanks Prateek!), numerous bottles of wine, Alison's Glorious Chocolate Chip Cookies, and an impromptu Swiss Chard Bruschetta (again, thanks Prateek!). Given my proclivity for all things red and all things carbohydrate and all things vino, I found a nice little Red Wine Risotto With Peas recipe, courtesy of she-of-the-heaving-bosom, Giada De Laurentiss. The crowd seemed to love the dish (owing, perhaps, to the rainy weather, the wine they had already consumed, and the few extra shakes of Syrah and fromage I added to the serving bowl at the last minute.) Anyway, fellow rice-lovers, you can find the recipe below [with my comments]. It works with white wine, as well. We're also considering a version with mushrooms and Guinness. You want an invite to that gathering, now don't you?

(It's also important to note that we managed to consume as many bottles of wine as there were people in attendance. I now think this is a great formula to use when judging the success of a dinner party.)








The Ingredients

• 3 1/2 cups canned low-salt chicken broth [we used organic vegetable broth, in case vegetarians arrived]
  
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
  
• 1 cup finely chopped onion [this is about one onion]
  
• 2 garlic cloves, minced [we chopped them roughly and by hand, as Alison's garlic press failed to press garlic but succeeded in resembling an 18th century torture device]
  
• 1 cup arborio rice, or medium-grain white rice
• 1/2 cup dry red wine [slosh on some extra at the end, for good measure — what good's a recipe when all the alcohol's been cooked off?]
  
• 1/3 cup frozen peas, defrosted, optional
• 1/4 cup chopped fresh Italian parsley leaves
• 1/2 cup grated Parmesan, plus additional for garnish
• Salt and freshly ground black pepper

The Directions

Bring the broth to a simmer over medium-high heat. Cover the broth and keep it warm over very low heat.

Melt the butter in a heavy large saucepan over medium heat. Add the onion and saute until translucent, about 8 minutes. Stir in the garlic and saute for 30 seconds. Stir in the rice and cook for about 2 minutes until the rice is toasted. Add the wine and stir until it is absorbed, about 1 minute. Add 3/4 cup of hot broth; simmer over medium-low heat until the liquid is absorbed, stirring often, about 6 minutes. Repeat, adding 3/4 cup of hot broth 2 more times, stirring often, about 12 minutes longer. At this point, the risotto can be made 4 hours ahead. Refrigerate the risotto (the rice will still be firm) and remaining broth, uncovered, until cool, then cover and keep them refrigerated until ready to proceed.

[I recommend that you DON'T leave the risotto to "simmer" while you enjoy a glass of red and some cheese in the other room. Get a good friend to keep you company while you stir, and do stir constantly.]

Bring the remaining broth to a simmer, then cover and keep it warm over very low heat. Stir 3/4 cup of hot broth into the partially cooked risotto over medium heat until the broth is absorbed and the risotto is hot, about 3 minutes. Add the remaining broth and simmer until the rice is just tender and the mixture is creamy, about 5 minutes longer. Stir in the peas and parsley. Add the 1/2 cup of Parmesan. Season, to taste, with salt and pepper. Spoon the risotto into bowls. Sprinkle [loads of] additional cheese over and serve.

Lighting a Literary Spark Under Your Derrières

I have always wanted to write a novel. In college, I even bought myself a greeting card that read, "You are fabulous! One day you will write a novel!" (Totes pathetic?) Well, I did crank out a 100-page novella senior year, but since then the only fiction I've written is a bunch of love letters that my ex unceremoniously sent back to me in a shoe box (to my office, on his company's dime, but that's neither here nor there.) The point of all this is rambling is that I've found something wonderful: It turns out November is National Novel Writing Month, and there is a whole web-site dedicated to getting you, YES YOU, to write a 50,000-word novel by midnight on November 30th. Sign up at NaNoWriMo, and take the next week to brainstorm some loose ideas. Then, log in regularly to update your word-count. I did the math (amazing, I know) and 50,000 words is about 175 pages, which breaks down to 5.83(repeating) pages per day. You can totes do that! I know I'm gonna....

Bonjour!

I've decided to jump on the blog bandwagon. Nevermind that I might be, literally, the last lass on Earth to creative a blog for herself. I've decided to call mine Too Many Truffles, after a lovely Colette quote: “If I can’t have too many truffles, I'll do without truffles." Sidonie-Gabrielle Colette, a slightly trollopy French femme (she managed to have an affair with her stepson, not to mention a slew of women), wrote sexy, feminist tomes in the early 1900s. Besides the numerous love affairs, she's best known for Gigi and The Vagabond. I dig her sass, her joie de vivre, and her devil-may-care rakishness. Excess — in books, travel, food, love or expression — can't be all that bad. So my motto for this site? Never be afraid to eat too many truffles (as long as you're willing to do too many sit-ups!)