All apologies and a plea - updated!

I am always struck by the generosity and kindness of those of you who read this site. Even with my recent absence (which will be explained in an upcoming post), I have still been the regular recipient of a host of comments, queries and stories from many of you. I cannot tell you how much this all means to me.

It was in one of these recent messages that Lillian, an enthusiastic and engaging reader from Louisiana, took the time to mention a recipe and entry for gaufrettes she'd come across. From the book French cooking for Americans by Louis Diat, here is the entry. My thanks to her.

Gaufres

Trace French cookery through the years and you will find certain specialties such as Gaufres, appearing century after century. These thin crisp, waffle-like tidbits have been sold on the streets of French cities ever since the twelfth century. In those early days the marchands de gaufres, that is, the vendors who sold them, always set up business in the streets near the doors of cathedrals and churches on days of great religious festivals. There they made and sold their wares to the throngs of people coming from the mass, people whose devotions must surely have been interrupted by the drifting fragrance of gaufres sizzling outside. Gaufres are still sold in French cities but today you will find them more often in the parks where the youngsters congregate.

Gaufres are cooked in an iron called a gaufrier which has two flat iron plates clamped and held together by long handles. The iron plates are decorated with designs which become imprinted on the cakes and very old gaufriers have beautiful and interesting designs, many of which have some definite religious significance.

My mother baked a kind of gaufre on a baking sheet and rolled them on a small stick. When cold she filled them with a cream filling or whipped cream. They are called gaufrettes, sometimes cigarettes.

My favorites are Gaufres with Cream, sometimes called Gaufres de Bruxelles, made in an oblong iron which puts deep indentations on the cakes, much like an American waffle iron. I think an American waffle iron could be used. Bur for a real gaufrier, if you have nostalgia for one, seek out an importer of French cooking equipment to supply you.

Gaufrettes or cigarettes

In giving the proportions of ingredients for gaufrettes it is almost impossible to indicate exact measurements because the size of the egg whites and the kind of flour will affect the consistency. It is best to bake a trial one. If the finished gaufrette is so thin it breaks and cannot be handled, the mixture needs a little more flour. If on the other hand the gaufrette is thick and clumsy to roll, a little more melted butter should be added.

2 egg whites
1/2 cup sugar
vanilla extract (or seeds from bean)
3 tablespoons butter, melted and cooled
1/3 cup flour

Beat egg whites until stiff. Sprinkle sugar over them a little at a time and fold into egg whites slowly and carefully. Add flour the same way. Add butter, also folding it in carefully. Butter and flour a baking sheet and put into a hot oven of 450 to 475 degrees until pan is hot. Drop batter by tablespoons on the hot pan, spreading it as thinly as possible. Bake in a hot oven of 450 to 475 degrees a few minutes until golden brown. When done, roll while still hot around a stick about the size of a thick pencil. When cold serve plain or filled with cream filling of whipped cream.

Batter for Gaufres

1 1/3 cups flour
2/3 cup sugar
4 tablespoons butter, melted
2 eggs
1 egg yolk
milk (3/4 to 1 cup)
vanilla extract (or seeds from bean)

Sift together flour and sugar. Mix together egg and egg yolk, add to flour mixture and mix until smooth. Add butter, vanilla and milk to make a thin batter. (Batter should be about the thickness or a crepe batter.) Heat both sides of gaufrier on top of stove, then butter both sides. When butter is sizzling hot pour in a tablespoon of batter, spreading it thinly. Close gaufrier and cook a few minutes on each side, or until golden brown. While still hot roll around the handle of a wooden spoon or stick of similar size. Or if preferred leave them flat.

Gaufrettes with cream

These gaufrettes are baked in a special iron, one that is square in shape, and made with deep indentations, as contrasted with the usual flat, round gaufrier. It is in fact very much like a waffle iron. The finished gaufrette is both soft and crisp, is very light and exceedingly tender and delicate. The advantage of these gaufrettes over waffles is that they are served cold and so can be made up ahead of time. They are a very choice dainty for afternoon tea when something rich is desired.

1 cup flour
6 egg yolks
1 tablespoon sugar
1/4 cup cream
1/4 cup butter, melted and cooled
pinch of salt
6 egg whites

Put all ingredients except egg whites in a bowl and mix together. Beat egg whites until stiff and carefully fold into batter. Pour into a square gaufrier with deep indentations (or a waffle iron) that has been heated and buttered. Cook on both sides until brown. Remove and cool. Fill each of the small holes with sweetened whipped cream or Creme Patissiere (recipe follows). Makes 6.

Crème patissiere

Pastry creams include all the cream fillings used in making various kinds of pastry desserts. Some of these creamy mixtures such as crème patissiere are also the foundations for many other desserts or, as we call them, entremets. Since most of these creams contain eggs it is important to know how to handle eggs when adding them to hot mixtures. You can't just stir them in as you do many other ingredients because when eggs are added directly to a hot liquid they will curdle. Nor can you allow the mixture to boil after eggs are added because that, too, will cause them to curdle. (If the mixture contains a thickening such as flour or cornstarch it can be boiled for minute or two.) The following simple procedure will insure the desired smooth, delicate texture: add some of the hot liquid to the beaten eggs, stirring vigorously all the time, in order to thin them out a little and heat them up at the same time. Then turn this back into the hot mixture and stir constantly until boiling point is reached. Do not allow to boil. Remove from heat and pour immediately into a cold bowl and cool quickly. The quicker a pastry cream cools the better, and an occasional stirring will prevent a thin crust from forming on top.

3/4 cup sugar
5-6 eggs
1/3 cup flour
2 cups milk
1 piece vanilla bean (or extract)
pinch salt

Mix together sugar and egg yolks and work up with a spoon until the mixture is creamy and light colored. Add flour and mix just enough to combine it but don't work it up. Scald milk and vanilla bean. Add to egg yolk mixture, little by little, and stir until well combined. Turn mixture back into saucepan and cook, stirring vigorously, until it comes back to boiling point. Boil about 2 minutes. Remove vanilla bean (or add extract to taste). Strain and let cool, stirring occasionally, to prevent a crust from forming on top.

Please see original post below for the backstory.

Some time ago, one of my dear readers requested a recipe for gaufrettes, the delicate French waffle cookie. I divided my attention between research and the demands of a toddler, trolling my cookbooks and searching online. Sadly, I was disappointed with my findings. None of my cookbooks garnered success; on the upside I shall be using this as an excuse to buy more. After all that, the delay only came up with the following links:

Category Mistake
Sweet C
Free Cooking Recipes
Recipe Link

However, never having tried any of them, I am wary to recommend these results. And so, I'm appealing to the rest of my readers - do any of you have an absolutely fantastic, full-proof and wonderful recipe you would be so kind to share? Or would those with more expertise comment on the links I have listed? Please contact me via my profile or post your thoughts in the comments section.

I have tried this recipe from Williams-Sonoma for gloriously tempting pizzelle. While not exactly a gaufrette, I am more than happy to vouch for their deliciousness.

And to the original reader, thank you for your patience!

Getting to know you

Seven years ago Sean gave me one of my most treasured possessions. It was my birthday, and he had found a copy of the out-of-print, rather unknown, favourite book of my childhood.

Whereas my original copy had long ago lost whole sections out of overuse, this new copy was pristine perfection; the story intact and whole again.

Flipping through the pages, my enthusiasm for a tale of little mice and their adventures to a faraway land came rushing back. With the glee of a six-year-old, I pointed out the illustrations that had inspired me the most, explained to him the nuances of each character and hugged the book like the long-lost friend it was.

What made this gift all the more special, was that Sean and I had not known each other in childhood. It was only through my mentioning the book that he realized the importance to me. Having it now was a window to that youth, an opportunity for him to know the girl I had been.

Lucky for me, we have many ‘relics’ of Sean’s early years - our son Benjamin now plays with some of the same toys and is even measured on the same growth chart against which his father stood tall. But beyond all these, one of the most meaningful of legacies are the recipes I have been given by his family.

Whether it be the cheesy pasta salad that appears at every family gathering, or the apple cake that heralds fall, or Grandma's famous (and decadent) butter tarts, each of these recipes is inextricably tied to memories from the family I now call my own. Though unshared by me, I feel a part of those reminisces with each bite, and hopefully in the future, with each time I serve them.

Munching on a bakery-bought cookie a few days ago, I came to think of the recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies from my dear Mother-in-Law. Passed down from her mother, it was the recipe noted with the scribble “Sean’s favourite” in the margins of their church’s fundraising cookbook.

Chewy, fat and unapologetically old-fashioned, these are the stuff of cookie-jar glory. I have dressed them up a bit with shards of almond butter toffee and chocolate chips; but that was just my mood that day. These are the perfect canvas for whatever strikes your fancy - white chocolate and dried cherries, perhaps? It doesn't matter the specific flavours of your childhood, as long as you remember to visit them once in a while.

Almond toffee oatmeal cookies
My own variation, based upon a recipe by my husband's maternal grandmother. They may look like your typical oatmeal cookies, but the salted toffee adds and unexpected depth of buttery flavour. I prefer some of the toffee pieces on the smaller side, so they melt into the batter when baking.

Ingredients

For the almond butter toffee
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 cup unsalted butter
2 tablespoons water
1/8-1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup flaked almonds

For the cookies
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup firmly-packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons dark corn syrup, golden syrup, honey or maple syrup
1 egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup chocolate chips
1 batch almond butter toffee, crushed into bits

To make the almond butter toffee

Grease a half sheet pan (13"x18") or cookie sheet.

Combine all ingredients, except the almonds, in a small, heavy bottomed saucepan. Over medium heat, stir until the butter is melted. Reduce the heat to medium-low and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until a candy thermometer reaches 300ºF (150ºC). This will take about 25-30 minutes. If you do not have a candy thermometer, carefully drip a small amount of the sugar mixture into a cup of cold water; if it has reached the right temperature it will collect into a hard ball.

Meanwhile, in a skillet over medium-high heat, spread the almonds in a single layer. Toss the nuts occasionally to prevent scorching. Once they are light toasted brown and aromatic, remove from pan and set aside.

Mix nuts into butter toffee mixture. Working quickly, spread the toffee over the prepared half sheet pan in a thin layer. It will not fill the entire pan. Set aside to cool completely.

When cooled, break the toffee into irregular bits. I find it easiest to put pieces into a large, loosely sealed food storage bag and pounding the toffee into submission with the bottom of a skillet. You should end up with about 3/4 cup of nubby gravel.

For the cookies

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer, cream together the butter, brown sugar and corn syrup until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. Add the egg, beating well. Mix in vanilla.

With mixer on low speed, add flour mixture and mix until just incorporated. Using a rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in the oatmeal, chocolate chips and crushed toffee.

Drop 2 tablespoons of dough into mounds (I use a disher that is 1 1/2” across) onto parchment or silpat lined cookie sheets. Space mounds about 2 inches apart. Bake until lightly golden around the edges, but not crisp, about 10-12 minutes.

Cool on sheets for 5 minutes; transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Makes 2 dozen.

Notes:
• If anyone would like Sean’s Grandmother’s original recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies, please leave a comment to that effect; I would be happy to oblige.
• Due to the buttery toffee, these cookies will melt and spread while baking. If you would like to reshape them, take a wide glass or bowl and swirl the slightly cooled (maybe after 10-15 seconds out of the oven) cookies in a circle. The edges will collect together neatly, as pictured.

Happy Halloween!

I hope your treat bags are stuffed to the brim.

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.

'Tis the season for good intentions

We all do it. There is really no point in attempting denial. Pretty much everyone is guilty as charged.

I challenge anyone to pretend that they have not, at some time or another, shirked a bit of Holiday responsibility. Nothing serious I’m sure, but maybe it was a case of promising to bring a gift for a Secret Santa (less than $25, please), and in your last minute haste you spent a whopping $27.99 at the store on the way.

Or maybe you went so far as to reach back into the closet, pull out that untouched gift Aunt Meg and Uncle Stan gave you last year, snipned off the tag and presented it as your own contribution to the festivities. Regifting never hurt anyone, has it?

Or maybe you had promised to bring a home baked treat along for the annual neighbourhood open house, and somewhere in the purchasing, packing and pandemonium of pre-holiday prep, it completely slipped your mind. So you’re faced with a dilemma - head to the party empty handed or stop over at a local bakery on the way and hope nobody notices the price tag on the box.

I was in a similar predicament this morning. I had said, weeks ago, that I would be thrilled to participate in a cookie swap. I could already imagine the smell of baking butter and sugar wafting through the house; I envisioned cookie perfection, rows upon rows of gorgeous treats all waiting to be enjoyed. I poured over recipe books and magazines, scoured baking supply stores for sanding sugar and dried egg whites.

And then I got distracted. I’m not sure by what exactly, all I know is that it was suddenly the morning of the 27th, and my cookie jar had nary a crumb. Old Mother Hubbard has my sympathies.

Not willing to give up so easily (and with the bakery not opening for another three hours), I looked to my frequent saviour - the freezer. Armed with the last sheet of puff pastry, I improvised a holiday variation on an old classic, palmiers. Flaky and crisp, and glazed with a combination of reduced jam and cinnamon sugar, these cookies belie how easy they are to make. A quick roll and 12 minutes in the oven later, you are left with a tray worthy of any cookie-swap.

Happy holidays, indeed.

Holiday palmiers

Ingredients
1/2 cup strawberry jam
1/2 teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice (or more, if desired)
1 inch piece of lemon zest (optional)
1 cup sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon cinnamon (or more, if desired)
1 sheet puff pastry, defrosted as per package instructions

Preheat oven to 450º F (230º C). Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.

In a small saucepan over medium-low heat, combine the jam, lemon juice and lemon zest (if using). Heat until the jam is melted but before it reaches a full boil. Remove from the heat and allow to cool for about 2 minutes. Using a small spoon, push the jam through a fine-meshed sieve, discarding any seeds and the lemon zest. I advise some care here, as the jam will still be rather warmå. Set aside.

In a small bowl, combine the sugar, cinnamon and salt. Spread one half of the mixture over your work surface and lay the puff pastry in the middle. Sprinkle the remaining sugar on top, and begin rolling. Turn and flip the pastry frequently, pushing the cinnamon sugar into the pastry - you want an even coating. Roll until you have a 13” by 13” square.

With a small offset spatula or butter knife and working quickly , spread the jam over the puff pastry. The jam should be in a thin layer, reaching all the way to the edges of the dough.

Fold the side of the dough halfway to the centre. Fold again, so that the two folded sides now meet in the centre. Fold one half over the other as though you are closing a book and the sides are now stacked on top of each other. Place pastry log on one of the prepared baking sheets and chill for 10 minutes in the freezer.

Remove from the freezer and slice the log into 3/4 inch slices. Place slices, cut side up back onto baking sheets and chill for an additional 5 minutes.

Bake cookies for approximately 6 minutes until the filling is bubbling and glazed and the pastry is starting to turn golden. Flip the cookies with a spatula and bake for additional 5 minutes, until caramelised and puffed. Wait a minute or so, then transfer to a baking rack to cool.

Makes about 24 cookies.

Notes:
• You can use whatever variety of jam or jelly you would like for this recipe. Reducing a clear juice (for example, cranberry) would also make a suitable filling. The jam may be omitted all together, and a coloured sanding sugar added instead for a colourful spiral design.
• The palmiers are quite delicate when they come out of the oven. For flipping and transferring to a wire rack, always use a spatula larger than the cookie to maintain its shape. A light spray of cooking oil on the spatula may also assist in transferring.
• The cut palmiers can be individually frozen on a cookie sheet, then transferred to a plastic freezer bag for storage. They should keep for approximately 2 weeks and do not need to be defrosted before baking. Cooking time may need adjustment, though.