Comfort comes in small packages

Recently at Seven Spoons:
Tara speaks from the depths of the couch, towers of magazines and cookbooks obscure her from view. Dear S is otherwise occupied with Ms. Billie, the feline mistress of the house, who is making quick work of the deconstruction of a bag of gift bows.

Tara: I’m torn. Florentines or tuiles? Both look lovely and would be perfect to package up for friends.
S: Uh huh, whatever you want, sweetie.
Tara: (opening another book, sending others flying) Take a look at these stunning cookies Martha’s made. Gingerbread snowflakes, piped with royal icing then dusted with sanding sugar. They sparkle so prettily - and you know I’m a sucker for anything with sparkles. I could do those, then some I saw in Gourmet ... I just need to find my copy ... (begins searching)
S: Do any of our friends like gingerbread? How about making the cookies from last year?
Tara: But that is boring.
S: But they were yummy. And I liked them.
Tara stops looking.

How can one not get excited to try new things come Holiday season? Bombarded with delectable images upon every magazine rack, bookshelf and television show, the season smacks of promise - there is always a new cookie to try, another way to roast a turkey, and this year’s penultimate side dish.

However, at least with my family, rarely do these new fangled recipes garner much praise. True they are well-received, but it is not often are they requested the year following. Not because they are not truly tasty, but because they are just not the tradition.

Take for example my father’s turkey. A few years ago he gallantly deboned an entire bird at our request, stuffed it with a savoury filling and then rolled into roulade - dark meat cradling the white meat inside. The turkey was perfect, moist throughout and utterly impressive.

Though it was, by far, the best bird I’ve ever eaten (and by my Mother’s command has been the only way we have celebrated the holidays for the last five seasons), there are still dissenters among the family. Since the turkey, no matter how beautifully tied, no longer resembles the classic image of a proper bronzed beast it is somehow considered inferior. My ever diplomatic Dad now roasts separate pieces of turkey to appease those souls.

It seems certain dishes are so firmly rooted in our sense of the season that we cannot be so foolhardy as to alter them. As we prepare the meal, going through the motions of making the brussels sprouts, stirring the gravy or getting out the same china we use every year - there is something inherent in these movements, in their ritual and rhythm that reminds us of years past and of memories shared. It is simply not Christmas without these tastes and smells and textures.

While I am all for innovation, I choose to spend this time looking forward and behind; taking note of now only where I am going but where I have been. There is comfort in the known, there is affection in tradition and there is pride in all that has stood up to the tests of time. Sometimes all that is needed are the tastes of home to assure us that there is still some right in the world.

These jam thumbprints are ridiculously easy and immediately invoke a sense of nostalgia, for a time we may or may not have known. Buttery shortbread, crowned with bronzed bits of coconut and gushing with a jam filling, you cannot get more classic than these.

Jam Thumbprints
Recipe published on Food TV.com courtesy of Ina Garten. Originally published in Barefoot Contessa Family Style. This recipe produces a fabulously rich shortbread base; experiment with different shapes and fillings to suit your tastes. I used Blackberry jam for my version, and upped the salt to 1/3 teaspoon.

I'm a sucker for a pretty face

The holidays have already started to catch up with me – and they’re not even here yet. It is not because I’m feeling rundown or because I’m overwhelmed (though I’ll cop to that as well), it is because I get easily distracted. I’ve mentioned this before, I know, but this time of year is truly a minefield for those of us with short attention spans.

It does not help that I can be terribly shallow. Pretty things always get me. Distractions abound. Winter Wonderlands full of sparkles, lights and glitter – every stereotypically girly impulse in me is awakened and I am left cooing over the window displays in Williams Sonoma.

I am every merchandising executive’s dream. Everything is so perfectly-package and so preciously presented, I am weak.

Such is the case with these darling little measuring cups from Nigella’s Home collection. A set of four ranging from 1/4 cup to a full cup, they have a beautiful eggshell finished exterior that begs to be touched. Brought to me after an interesting string of events, I could not say no to the generosity of the offer. And they’re just so pretty.

Taking them from their custom box and setting the little collection out on my counter I was immediately smitten. Not wanting to relegate these beauties to the baking cupboard, I checked their particulars and found that they are dishwasher, oven and microwave safe. Ah the joy of a new canvas to play upon.

Of course with their robin’s egg blue shade, the cup begged to be filled with something deep and dark to set off its looks. And truly, is there any other option than chocolate?

Though parading as a cup of steamy hot chocolate do not let looks beguile you, this tasty dish is more than it seems. Not satisfied with the flavours of chocolate and cream alone, it boasts a custard base – rich and creamy and perfectly tinged with a hint of espresso. Silkier and more sensual than mousse, chocolate pots de crème prove that sometimes depth can be found in a shallow attraction.

Chocolate pots de crème
A classic recipe, with some guidance from Williams-Sonoma and some inspiration from Nigella Lawson.

Ingredients
2 cups chilled whipping cream
2 teaspoons instant espresso powder
5 ounces bittersweet or semisweet chocolate, finely chopped
6 large eggs yolks
2 tablespoons sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
pinch of salt

Garnish options
Sweetened whipped cream
Chocolate shavings
Chocolate covered espresso beans
Cinnamon
Candied pecans or other nuts
Orange zest

Preheat oven to 325º F (160º C) with rack in centre position.

In a medium, heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the cream and espresso powder. Bring the mixture to a simmer while you whisking to dissolve the espresso powder. Once simmering, remove from the heat, add the chocolate and stir until it is melted and smooth. Set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk the egg yolks, sugar and vanilla, and salt until it the yolks lighten. Stir in the melted chocolate. Strain (you may want to strain into a measuring cup or a pitcher with a spout to ease in pouring).

Place 6 3/4 cup in a large roasting pan. Divide the mixture evenly between the ramekins. I usually transfer the pan to the oven at this point, as I tend to spill water in the next step. Prepare a Bain Marie by pouring water from a recently-boiled kettle around the ramekins, until it comes about halfway up the sides. Cover the entire pan with aluminium foil and bake until the custard is set around the edges – about 25 minutes. Alternatively, you can prepare the Bain Marie on a countertop and then transfer to the oven, but as I said I tend to spill.
When just set (they should still be wobbly in the centre), remove the baking pan from the oven and transfer to a rack to cool for 10 minutes. Remove the ramekins from the roasting dish and allow to come to room temperature. When cool, cover and chill for at least 3 hours, preferably overnight.

To serve, whip the cream with the sugar and garnish the custards. Can be served chilled or at room temperature, though I prefer somewhere in between. The custard seems to be at its silken best and fullest flavour when the chill is off the cup but not as far as being warm.

Notes:
• A dash of a liqueur like Grand Marnier, Crème de Cacao or Kaluha would be great seasonal additions to the whipped cream garnish.
• For a change of pace, omit the espresso and instead add 1 teaspoon of chilli powder (or to taste) for a spicy chocolate hit. Cinnamon and other spices can be similarly substituted.