Spork or Foon?

Lime and Coconut Cookies

 

First off, let me say I hate any recipe that has Lime and Coconut in the title.  Mainly because I get that dreaded song stuck in my head.  And because I don’t really know the words to said song, so I just sing an annoying song over and over incorrectly.

“You get the lime in the coconut you make it fall up.”

You make it fall. Up. Seriously. That’s what I think the words are. And I’m still too lazy to Google the correct lyrics.

I made these cookies for my cousin’s baby shower a few weeks back to go along with the two different types of cupcakes. I had grandiose dreams of making little stork cookies and little baby onesie cookies decorated in purple and green.

And then reality hit. I began to have nightmares of my 2,500 cookie bonanza this past Christmas.  I thought of the nervous breakdown I had when recently making a close friend’s wedding cake (which I never blogged about and don’t know if I can because I just can’t relive it. But I must say, I love the girl whom I made this cake for to death and I would do it again if she asked!)

I broke out into a cold sweat. I swore an ulcer was slowly forming wherever ulcers form. I couldn’t do it. Not again. I needed an easy cookie recipe.

I found these lime and coconut cookies on Two Peas in a Pod.  Simple, easy butter cookies speckled with lime zest and toasted coconut.  I could bang out 100 of these cookies in no time. I even had some purple and green sprinkles to sprinkle atop the cookies to really make them pop.

I nervously texted my cousin (the twin sister of the then-mom-to-be) that I could not do anything crazy in regards to the cookies because I just didn’t have the time to do it. She reassured me that it was fine and not to go crazy.  I felt a little bit better, but still slightly disappointed in myself, nonetheless.

Well, once I tasted these cookies, I was disappointed no-more.  The buttery, chewy cookies were as light and air as hints of lime danced atop my tongue.  The coconut lent a wonderfully chewy, slightly crisp pop to the texture, however, did not add much to the flavor.  But these cookies were great, nonetheless. An easy, delicious treat that is perfect for any summer celebration.

When I arrived at my cousin’s house, I arranged the cookies atop her gorgeously decorated dessert table, as my family oohed and aahhed.  My cousin (not the pregnant one) exclaimed at how beautiful she thought the cookies were (she is one of the sweetest people ever and always has a way of making people feel good about themselves). Hungrily, my family reached for cookies as they awaited the arrival of the rest of the bridal shower guests. I had the urge to slap their hands as they swiped a cookie because I always saw people do that in movies and wanted to do that, but then I thought that would be mean. So I refrained. Because I’m nice like that. 

Instead, I watched as they ate the cookies in delight. Many commented that they could not taste the lime (which I agree), but still loved the soft, buttery texture of the cookie.   This recipe is definitely a keepr.

Random side story:  My father, who happened to imbibe in one glass of Dewar’s too many, had a plateful of cookies and then, in his drunken state, tried to eat the duck-shaped confetti that decorated the dishes.

“What the hell kind of sprinkles are these?” He shouted as he spit out pieces of green and purple confetti.

“It’s confetti, Dad.” I said, laughing hysterically as I swapped out the watered down glass of scotch for a piping hot cup of coffee.

That’s my dad, for you.

Lime and Coconut Sugar Cookies adapted from Two Peas and Their Pod

2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup butter, softened
1 1/2 cups sugar
1 large egg
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
Zest of 4 large limes
3 tbsp lime juice
½ cup toasted coconut
1/2 cup sugar for rolling cookies

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper or Silpats.

In a small bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, mix sugar and lime zest with your fingers until the sugar is moist and fragrant.  Add butter and, using a paddle attachment, beat butter and sugar until smooth and very fluffy (about 3 minutes)

 Add in the egg, vanilla extract, and lime juice. Mix until well combined.

Gradually add in the dry ingredients and toasted coconut. Mix until combined. Be sure not to over mix.
Roll rounded teaspoonfuls of cookie dough into balls. Put sugar in a small bowl and roll cookie dough balls in the sugar. Place on lined cookie sheets about 1 1/2 inches apart.

Bake 8 to 10 minutes or until lightly browned. The cookies will start to crack a little bit.

Let stand on cookie sheet two minutes. Move cookies to a cooling rack.

Makes about 3 dozen cookies

 

Panforte Ice Cream

 

First I must say HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO JACK, my boyfriend. I love him so much. He's a cutie.

A few weeks back, I was having some friends over to watch a World Cup match and wanted to find a good dessert to serve.  It was a hot day out and I was longing for a deliciously rich, creamy ice cream. I randomly opened up Dave Lebovitz’s “Perfect Scoop” straight to the Panforte Ice Cream recipe.

Interesting. I thought.  Panforte. I’m intrigued.  A friend who was coming over is a first-generation Italian and I thought this would suite my guests perfectly.

However, I was faced with a slight dilemma.  Panforte is the Italian version of a fruit cake. And fruit cakes are scary enough in their true form. 

This mystery cake haunts many-a-holiday-celebration.  Guests turn up their noses in disgust as they scornfully look down at the brick-like cake.  Nauseating bits of candied fruit create a craggly landscape atop the dense spice cake, and, if you’re really unlucky, your gracious host would have thrown in a handful of nuts.  A question that will always be the subject of trivia at any party: “If the cake is soaked in alcohol, why is it always so dry?” And, in my opinion, no cake should have a shelf-life that could span years.

That is the scariest thought of all.

Fruitcake should be served on Halloween.  Want to scare away all of the pesky trick-or-treaters who happily traipse up and down the street as they ring your doorbell and greet you with a melodious “Trick or Treat”?  Open the door slowly and hand them each a piece of last year’s fruit cake. 

Boo!

However, I do love the deep and fragrant notes of cloves, cinnamon, and freshly grated nutmeg and longed to try them in ice cream form.   However, I was a little bit thrown off at the not-so-excited reaction of my Italian friend.

“What are you making for dessert?” he asked.

“Panforte Ice Cream.”  I said, nervously.

Silence.

“Have you ever had panforte?” I asked, stupidly.

“Yeahhhh.” He said, timidly. I was unnerved by the way he drew out the word.  I convinced myself he was going to hate it. “But never as ice cream.”

Wonderful scents of wafted through the air as the warmed spices infused into the half-and-half and only became more fragrant when mixed with the eggs and thickened into creamy custard, leaving me longing for crisp, fall air in the suffocating heat of July. I became even more eager to try the ice cream as I mixed the custard with the final bits of heavy cream and watched as a steady stream of amber honey created ribbons throughout the custard.

After what seemed like hours (it was really only 30 minutes), I churned the ice cream and added chunks of Ghirardelli chocolate and sliced toasted almonds.

But chocolate is not in fruitcake, you say? Nope. But chocolate makes everything better.

But there are no candied fruits in this, you say?  Damn right there are no candied fruits.  I don’t want that stuff messing up my ice cream.

 I ran through an arsenal of spoons as I tasted the ice cream at various stages of churning.  And when I say various stages, I mean every 2 minutes. 

Oh, it must be colder. Let me taste.

SO GOOD.

Oh, it looks thicker. I must try it.

SO GOOD.

Nope. Not thicker. Need to eat it again.

SO GOOD.

Finally, the ice cream was ready. After a bit of time in the freezer (about 20 minutes, nowhere near long enough for the ice cream to set), my guests requested the ice cream

“Ok, but it’s not done.”  I explained.

I don’t even think they heard me. Everyone grabbed a spoon and plunged it into the somewhat melted ice cream.

“Wow that is SO good.” Someone yelled in between bites.

“This is incredible.” Someone else said.

“It tastes like a cannoli! I want the whole thing!”

I was relieved.  I have overcome the curse of the fruitcake.  The solution: Don’t add fruit and turn it into ice cream.

Panforte Ice Cream adapted from David Lebovitz's Perfect Scoop

1 cup half and half

⅔ cup sugar

1 cinnamon stick, broken in half

¼ tsp ground cloves

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

2 cups heavy cream

4 large egg yolks

3 Tbsp honey

8 oz. premium dark chocolate, chopped

2 tbsp rum

½ cup almonds, toasted and coarsely chopped

 

Warm the half-and-half, sugar, and spices in a medium saucepan. Cover, remove from heat, and let steep for 30 minutes at room temperature.

Rewarm the spice-infused mixture. Pour the cream into a large bowl and set a mesh strainer over top. In a separate bowl, whisk together the egg yolks. Slowly pour the warmed mixture into the egg yolks, whisking constantly, then scrape the mixture back into the saucepan.

Stir the mixture constantly over medium-low to medium heat with a spatula, scraping the bottom as you stir, until the mixture thickens and coats the spatula. Don’t rush this step, it may take 10 minutes or so. If you hurry it along, you may be having a little breakfast (scrambled eggs) with your ice cream. Pour the custard through the strainer into the cream. Discard the cinnamon stick. Stir the custard until cool over an ice bath. While it’s cooling, warm the honey in a small saucepan, then stir it into the custard.

Chill the mixture throughly in the refrigerator. Even though you’re about to pour it into your frozen ice cream maker, the chilling step is actually very important for the final texture. Give it at least a few hours in the fridge. When cold, freeze it in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer’s instructions. During the last few minutes of churning, add the citrus peel and almonds.

 

Harry Potter's Butterbeer!!!

I know it’s been a while and I promise I will be better about posting! A month! A month! What’s wrong with me?

Work has been crazy and working for two different sports teams is even crazier. Wonderfully, fantastically crazy, but crazy nonetheless.

So sometimes I like to sit back and unwind with a nice, cold butterbeer.

(Record scratching)

You read that correctly. A butterbeer.

As in the concoction that could lower the inhibitions of many a wizard, witch, and mudblood? The drink that can leave an innocent house-elf somewhat drunk upon imbibing said beverage? The longed-after beverage for many an excited Hogwarts student on a special trip outside of school grounds at The Three Broomsticks in Hogsmead?

That’s the one.

Funnily enough, my boyfriend could easily be thought of as what Harry Potter would look like at the ripe old age of 29 years old and happily married to Ginny Weasely, maybe will little redheaded, bespectacled wizards and witches running around at their feet as they enjoy a life of wedded bliss.

Sure. Jack could easily be mistaken for an older Harry, minus the whole lightning-bolt-etched-into-his-forehead thing. And the whole being-in-love-with-Ginny-Weasley-thing.

I’d kick her ass.

Last week, as Jack and I were sitting at home relaxing after a long day at work, Jack exclaimed as if he had just remembered that he had a long-lost gem sitting in his bag. He reached into his leather messenger bag and from it, pulled out a folded piece of newspaper.

“Gabby gave this to me. You have to make this.” He informed me as he handed me the slightly crinkled paper.

I grabbed it from his hand, slightly inquisitive. Very often, I get handed recipes with exclamations of “You have to make this!” or “I thought you would like this!” It always gives me a bit of a warm, fuzzy feeling that someone thinks of me when they see a recipe and asks me to try it. And then I get nervous because I think I’m going to screw it up, let everyone down, and then be accused of being a culinary fraud.

Such is life.

I unfolded the piece of paper as my eye immediately jumped to a photo of a beer mug filled with a light, caramel liquid and topped with a by a frothy, whipped cloud of cream.

Then, the headline jumped out at me.

Butter Beer.

“Really?!” I exclaimed. “No way! This is awesome! I am definitely making this. Can I keep this?”

“No.” Jack answered matter-of-factly. “She wants the recipe back.”

Ah, well. You can win them all. I immediately jotted down the recipe and my excitement deflated slightly.

Butter? Heavy cream? Is this a children’s drink or a death concoction invented by Paula Deen to clog my arteries?

“I don’t know how I feel about drinking melted butter.” I told Jack.

“It’ll be delicious.” He reassured me.

It didn’t work.

After a few days of hemming and hawing, I decided to go for it. I ran to the supermarket and picked up the necessary ingredients. Heavy cream. Butter. I then reached the soda aisle and balked.

Do I go for diet cream soda or regular?

I hemmed and hawed. But the diet cream soda has no calories. The regular has 190 calories. 190 calories!

Wait. I thought to myself. You’re about to drink melted butter and heavy cream. If you’re going to do it, you may as well go all out. I picked up the regular soda.

As I returned home, I finally read through the recipe in its entirety. Ohhhh. I thought to myself. Heavy cream, butter and brown sugar. So I’m making caramel. And then drinking it. That’s better, right?

Right?

After the caramel cooled, I poured it into the beer mug and mixed it with a little bit of the cream soda. The light, tan color of the cream soda magically (like in Harry Potter! No? No?) transformed into a rich, magnificent amber. I topped it with the remainder of the soda and listened as the froth billowed above the edge of the glass. I topped it with a bit of caramel whipped cream and walked over proudly to Jack.

This is going to be SO good. I told him excitedly.

“Can I have it?” He asked confused, as I placed the glass on the floor.

“No, I have to photograph it.”

“Right. Silly me.” He answered back dryly as he went back to reading his Wall Street Journal.

After I finished photographing the beer, I handed Jack the drink and watched him as he took his first sip. He looked at me, whipped cream dotting the tip of his nose and said:

“WOW. This is SO good. It tastes like a Root Beer Float!” (Jack’s favorite dessert/drink).

Yes, this drink is pure magic.

Butterbeer adapted from The Daily Record

1 cup light or dark brown sugar

2 tbsp water

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 tsp cider vinegar

3/4 cup heavy cream, divided

2 tsp rum

6 tbsp butter

Four 12 oz bottles cream soda

In a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the brown sugar and water. Bring to  a gentle boil and cook, stirring often, until the mixture reads 240 on a candy thermometer

Stir in the butter, salt, vinegar and 1/4 cup heavy cream. Set aside to cool to room temperature.

Once the mixture has cooled, stir in the rum extract.

In a medium bowl, combine 2 tbsp of the brown sugar mixture and the remaining 1/2 cup of heavy cream. Use an electric mixture to beat until it reaches soft peaks.

To serve, divide the brown sugar mixture between 4 tall glasses (about 1/4 cup per glass) add 1/4 cup cream soda to each glass, then stir to combine.  Fill each glass nearly to the top with additional cream soda, then spoon the whipped cream on top.