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.