Cookies for Santa

So I went to the garage to take my cookies out of the freezer to photograph them for this post. I thought I would be in and out of there in two minutes, so didn't wear my coat. Suffice to say, it was a stupid idea. In addition to the frigid garage, I was dipping in and out of the freezer and attempting to pry open stubborn Tupperware containers with fingers that were rapidly freezing and growing numb. Beating them against my leg to wake them up didn't do much. Aside of having my own To Build a Fire moment in the garage, surrounded by hockey equipment, I didn't accomplish much. The pictures I took were way too dark. You couldn't properly see the cookies at all, and though I am in no way a photographer, I at least know that seeing the subject is an important part. So, I went inside, put on my coat, warmed up and tried again.
Clustered around the milk glass are Brandy Balls and directly underneath them are Almond Bars. To the left in front are Peppermint Crackles and the Ginger Crackles are at the bottom.


Many holiday movies denounce the commercialism of the season and how much we've gotten out of hand with our spending and gifting. How the Grinch stole Christmas, A Charlie Brown Christmas and others try to remind the viewers of what Christmas is really all about. One of my favourite examples of this is Miracle on 34th Street. Little Susan Walker (Natalie Wood) has already been through her parents' divorce and deals with life in the best way she knows how to, as a miniature adult. With practicality, forthrightness and an enforced maturity that is heartbreaking in all children who are thrust into adulthood too soon, Susan has already dismissed the possibility of there being a Santa Claus. When the Macy's Department Store Santa turns out to be unsuitable, Macy's hires a man who turns out to be the real deal. He (Edmund Gwenn) sits in the store and listens to the requests of children, but instead of recommending Macy's products to their parents, he tells the parents where to go to get the best bargain. And it often isn't Macy's. This policy frustrates the owner of Macy's and eventually leads to Santa being put on trial.

And while this movie has its share of poignant moments, the real miracle is Susan's transformation and that of her mother, Doris (Maureen O'Hara), who has never believed in encouraging fairy tales or fantasy of any sort. Miracle on 34th Street is a classic and rightly so.

Leave out a plate of your favourite Christmas cookies for Santa. On my plate are the Ginger Crackles I've given a recipe for before. The Brandy Balls, Almond Bars and Peppermint Crackles recipes are in the post directly above this one. Enjoy them (and all Christmas cookies) with a glass of milk or eggnog.

Gingery Goodness

A slightly out of focus picture of ginger crackles cooling on my ancient cookie tin:

A slightly small picture of a nearly perfect comedy:

An Everlasting Piece
2000; Barry McEvoy, Brian F. O’Byrne
Directed by Barry Levinson

Being a Catholic, I'll start with confession:

When I first saw An Everlasting Piece at the age of 15 or 16, I had a crush on Barry McEvoy, who plays Colm, a Catholic barber. (He also wrote the screenplay.) His hair so dark, his temperament so intense; that was all it took. I had the same feelings for Robert Arkin who played Jimmy Rabbitte in The Commitments. Not my most embarrassing crushes, but embarrassing enough. Moving on...

An Everlasting Piece is comic brilliance, a story set in 1980’s Belfast about two barbers, one an assertive Catholic, the other a hesitant Protestant, (McEvoy and Brian F. O'Byrne) who decide to get into the hairpiece business, figuring that they can capture both the Catholic and Protestant markets, calling themselves The Piece People. Though they start out as “the only hairpiece company in all of Northern Ireland,” they don’t remain the only one. The ensuing competition, fraught with religious tension and a growing friendship between the two men, is material for many classic scenes. You may want to buy An Everlasting Piece, because you’ll likely watch it over and over again.

In honour of the Irish wit, snappy dialogue and intense personalities, I present gingersnaps to consume with this film. I know that they aren’t Irish but there is something about gingersnaps, the spiciness, the sugar granules on top and most of all, the satisfying crunch as you bite down. These cookies, redolent with spicy, warm aromas and just hot enough on the palate, always make me think of Colm dancing a jig on top of the flight of stairs after being chased by Mr. Black and his cronies.

SPICY UNAPOLOGETIC GINGER CRACKLES (Makes 3 1/2 dozen)

1/2 cup vegetable shortening (such as Crisco)

1/4 cup unsalted butter, softened

1 cup sugar

1 large egg

1/4 cup molasses (not blackstrap. Use "fancy" or "cooking" molasses)

1 cup white flour

1 cup whole wheat pastry flour

1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

2 teaspoons baking soda

2 teaspoons ground ginger

Pinch of white pepper

1 teaspoon ground cloves

Pinch of salt

Sugar to roll the cookies in

Preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Cream together the shortening, butter and sugar. Beat in the egg and molasses. Combine both flours, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, pepper, cloves and salt in another bowl and then mix the dry ingredients into the wet until thoroughly combined. I usually do this in the food processor, where, as my brother Isaiah pointed out, the batter takes on the appearance of dog food. Rover never had it so good...

Roll your batter into 1 inch balls and then roll each ball in a little bit of sugar to coat it.

Place your balls about 2 inches apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake 8 - 10 minutes until the cookies are set and brown underneath. Allow to cool before greedily munching away. They are great with a glass of milk and even better with coffee.

Fa ra ra ra raaaaa ra ra ra raaaaa!

A Christmas Story
1983; Melinda Dillon, Darren McGavin, Peter Billingsley
Directed by Bob Clark

A Christmas Story is a cult film among some. For years, I didn’t know its real name, thinking of it simply as “You’ll Shoot Your Eye Out!” Based on the memoirs of Jean Shepherd, A Christmas Story captures the trials and fantasies of childhood in a realistic and unsentimental way. Our hero Ralphie (a fantastic Peter Billingsley) grows up in the 1940’s, though it just as easily could be today. Some things never change, like when Ralphie feels mistreated and fantasizes about going blind. Then they’d be sorry! (With me, it was always getting hit by a car….) If a BB gun had appeared under our tree on Christmas morning, with my name on it, I probably would have thought my parents had mixed up the tags. No matter. A Christmas Story will have you nodding your head and laughing out loud in recognition, almost no matter what your childhood was like.

The ingredient list for this recipe may make you think of fruitcake but press on anyway. For the record, I hate fruitcake and I absolutely love this brandy tart. It’s Christmassy without being only appropriate at Yuletide. You can enjoy it at any time of year. This tart is “adult” tasting and would have elicited groans from me as a child, as I suspect it would from most children. Now, however, you can enjoy it with your more mature palate. That’s what watching A Christmas Story is all about, remembering childhood with your now-adult perspective on the horrors and triumphs of the fourth grade. It’s not really a children’s movie though it may seem that way at first glance. This brandy tart is perfect accompaniment and I really hope you serve it warm with a dollop of whipped cream.

I got this recipe from a friend of my mother's who is a certified Cordon Bleu chef. She despises cooking and forever blames cooking school for ruining it for her. Her idea of dinner is a pot of baked beans and another pot of rice. If we're really going to get fancy, maybe a cut up cantaloupe for dessert. Jean, however, will put her education to good use now and then and come up with a truly fantastic recipe. I am fortunate to have sampled some of these, the Brandy Tart being my favourite. Thanks Jean.

JEAN'S BRANDY TART

TART:

4 ounces dates
4 ounces raisins
1/4 cup maraschino cherries
1/2 cup boiling water
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 cup chopped walnuts

1 egg, lightly beaten

SAUCE:

1/2 tablespoon unsalted butter
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup water

1/3 cup brandy

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

For the tart, finely chop the dates, raisins and cherries. Pour the boiling water over the fruits and set aside. (The water won't cover the fruits completely; don't worry about it.) In another bowl, combine the sugar, flour, baking soda, baking powder and walnuts. Pour in the egg and the date mixture at the same time and stir until just combined. Scrape the batter into a tart pan or deep dish pie plate. Bake for 20 minutes, or until a tester inserted in the middle comes out clean. Let cool completely.

For the sauce, combine the butter, sugar and water in a saucepan and bring to a boil. Turn the heat down to medium-low and simmer the sauce for 4 minutes, stirring every minute or so. Remove from the heat, allow to cool for 2 minutes and then stir in the brandy. (This will be a very wet sauce, not a thickened one).

Once the tart is completely cool, poke holes all over it with a knife. Pour the warm sauce over the tart, slowly, allowing it time to soak into the tart. Cut in wedges and serve with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, if desired.

"Maybe Christmas, he thought, doesn't come from a store."

Purchase it at Amazon!


How the Grinch Stole Christmas
1966; Narrated by Boris Karloff
Directed by Chuck Jones and Ben Washam

Even if you didn't grow up with Dr Suess books as nightly rituals, you've probably seen a TV re-run of How the Grinch Stole Christmas. Even Suess haters (ahem, my mother) grudgingly admit that the Grinch is a Christmas staple. Boris Karloff (of Frankenstein fame) narrates in his deliciously dark, thick, oozing voice. You could drink that voice like melted chocolate. The animation is vintage Suess (though not actually drawn by him), the rhymes nonsensically sensible and literate. (If you think it's easy to come up with Suess-quality rhymes, try it sometime. The nearest old lady will probably tell you to eat something).

You already know the story, how the Grinch can't stand the noise, noise, noise. How he hates the Whos down in Whoville, with their merrymaking every Christmas. You know how he comes up with his dastardly plan, forcing his dog, Max, into it with him. How he steals Christmas...or so he thinks. I know it's coming, but I always get a little teary anyway. Even though the trees, decorations, presents, wreaths, candy canes, roast beast, are gone...even the last can of Who Hash has been stolen...... Christmas comes anyway. The Whos gather and sing praises and welcome Christmas. Their faces are alight with joy. And the Grinch? Well, his heart grew at least three sizes that day. And then, the forgiving Whos, like all good Whos, welcome him into their circle and feast with him.

When you make these lemon bars, sweet yet fiercely sour, thin but aggressive, you'll know why they suit How the Grinch Stole Christmas.




I made these bars with a pretzel crust, inspired by a chocolate coconut square with a pretzel crust, that I'd eaten once when I was twelve. I've always wanted to make a pretzel crust (hey, it only took me 14 years) and it seemed particularly suited to a lemon filling. The filling was adapted from a recipe my mom gave me for lemon meringue pie. I think she got it from Epicurious.com.

They turned out fairly well, but were a bit more runny than I was expecting. I guess, having not made many lemon desserts with curd (ok, having never made lemon curd, sticking to lemon sponge cakes and the like), I was expecting my curd to be more jelly-ish and stick together, hunching its shoulders in solidarity as it gathered itself within the confines of the crust, standing proud and fierce on the plate. Hmmm... Not so much. The result was delicious and the perfect amount of mouth-puckering sour and palate-soothing sweet. And the texture wasn't a complete disaster. The filling did set somewhat; it wasn't running all over the plate, which I would have found highly annoying. It just...slumped. A little bit, over its crust, like a mama hen settling her feathers over her chicks. This crust, being crunchy and chewy and salty and sweet and buttery and perfect, did not need the mothering, but perhaps it was glad of it all the same. We sometimes are, you know.


LEMON BARS

Crust:

100 grams of pretzels (about 1 cup of crushed pretzels)
1/3 cup melted butter
2 tablespooons sugar

Filling:

1 cup sugar
5 tablespoons cornstarch
1 cup water
1/2 cup whole milk
4 egg yolks
1 tablespoon butter
1/2 cup fresh-squeezed lemon juice

Preheat your oven to 350 Fahrenheit.

For the crust, crush the pretzels in a food processor fitted with the metal blade, or in a Ziploc bag, bashing them with a rolling pin. They don't have to be powder. Mix the pretzel crumbs with the melted butter and sugar and spread in the bottom of an 8x8 inch baking pan. Bake for 12 minutes and then set aside to cool.For the filling, whisk together sugar and cornstarch. Gradually whisk in water and milk, whisking until cornstarch is dissolved. In a bowl whisk together egg yolks. Cook milk mixture over moderate heat, whisking, until it comes to a boil.

Gradually whisk about 1 cup milk mixture into yolks and whisk yolk mixture into milk mixture. Simmer mixture, whisking, 3 minutes. (It will thicken. Don't worry; I got a little nervous (it being custard and all) and took it off too soon, which is probably why my squares weren't as solid as I'd hoped.) Remove pan from heat and whisk in butter and lemon juice until butter is melted.



Pour filling onto your cooled crust and refrigerate until set, at least 2 hours. Serve cold and fierce.

The Conchords and Mini Pavs

Flight of the Conchords: Complete First Season
2007; Bret McKenzie, Jemaine Clement
Directed by James Bobin (6 episodes), Troy Miller (2 episodes), Taika Waititi (2 episodes), Paul Simms, Michael Patrick Jann (1 episode each)

The Flight of the Conchords are a 2 man novelty band, a folk parody duo from New Zealand, consisting of Bret (not Brit) McKenzie and Jemaine (not Jermaine) Clement. I heard of them from my brother about a year and a half ago, when he emailed me a Youtube clip of the Conchords live. I had to watch the video three times before I knew what I thought.

McKenzie and Clement's humour is subtler than I'm used to and certainly quirkier. It's also more innocent, sweet and naive. Like that first song I heard them sing, their first season took some getting used to for me. By the third episode, however ("Mugged"), I was hooked. The series follows the guys trying to make it big in America. With their earnest band manager, Murray Hewitt (the awesome Rhys Darby), their best friend, Dave (Arj Barker), who can't remember where they're from half the time and their one fan, the obsessed stalker, Mel (Kristen Schaal), Bret and Jemaine navigate their way through body image issues, suffering discrimination, attempting to pay the rent on their little apartment, and taking advice from David Bowie. Throughout each episode, the guys sing their hilariously original and clever songs. The soundtrack is definitely the best part of the series.

Girlfriends come and go throughout the 12 episodes, but the real relationship story here is between Bret and Jemaine. Their friendship and musical partnership is severely tested at times, but proves true.

Ultimately the Conchords make me grin. I love them and can't wait for Season 2.

MINI PAVLOVAS

Why? Because pavs are originally from New Zealand and I couldn't resist the opportunity to make them, having wanted to for a long time. And because I'm one of the typical people Bret and Jemaine meet who know nothing about New Zealand. "Like Lord of the Rings....Frodo...The Ring! Pavlovas! Well, don't let me bore you with my knowledge of New Zealand." And finally, because pavs are fun to eat. Airy, chewy and subtle.

3 egg whites

1/2 teaspoon cream of tartar

1/2 cup sugar

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract, almond extract, or rosewater

1/2 cup whipping cream

1 large pomegranate

Beat the egg whites with the cream of tartar until foamy (about 2 minutes), then begin adding the sugar, 1 tablespoon at a time, until you have stiff peaks. This will take 8-15 minutes. (I intended to time it, but my beaters died partway through, destroying my clock-watching abilities.) Test if the meringue is stiff by pulling the beaters out (after turning them off!) and seeing if the whites stand up where you pulled the mixer out.

When the whites are stiff and shiny, gently fold in your vanilla or rosewater. (You won't need more than the amount specified, as the long, slow baking really brings out the flavour. Next time I use rosewater, I may actually do a bit less, like 1/8 teaspoon).

Line a baking sheet with parchment paper and dollop the whites onto the pan (makes 12 pavlovas, 2-3 bites each). If you want a "nest," make an indentation with the back of your spoon.

Bake at 250 degrees Fahrenheit for 1 hour. Turn the oven off, but leave the meringues in the oven to cool for 20 minutes or so. Transfer to a wire rack to cool completely, peeling them off the parchment paper first.

TO ASSEMBLE THE PAVLOVAS:

Whip the cream until it stands in soft, floppy peaks. You could sweeten the cream with a half tablespoon of sugar, but I didn't, as I found the pavlovas sweet enough. Set aside.

Cut the pomegranate in half and hold 1 half upside down over a plate. Whap the skin of the fruit with a spoon to make the seeds come raining out (the funnest part). To assemble each mini pav, dollop the cream evenly in the nests and sprinkle the pomegranate seeds evenly over each pav.

Enjoy with some quirky comedy.

A Bittersweet Partnership

Persuasion
1995; Amanda Root, Ciaran Hinds
Directed by Roger Michell

Of all Jane Austen's books, Persuasion was “the one most likely to make me cry.” Before I read Sense and Sensibility, Persuasion was my favourite of Austen’s novels and I still feel the most empathy for Anne Elliot than any of the other Austen heroines, except perhaps Elinor Dashwood. Persuasion is brilliant because it not only recognizes that suffering is part of love but opens up that suffering and shines a light on its every nuance. Reading the novel can be almost painful at times.

The film version, directed by Roger Michell and starring Amanda Root and Ciaran Hinds of the Royal Shakespeare Company, nails the suffering of Jane Austen’s Persuasion so perfectly that I almost wonder if the next time I read the book, Amanda Root’s large tortured eyes and beautiful, exquisitely sad face will have replaced my own mental image of Anne.

I never cry watching romantic films because even the most intelligent, unconventional rom-coms are still predictable. We know they’re going to end up together and it’s (somtimes) great and it’s (sometimes) satisfying but it doesn’t produce intense emotion in the viewer. Persuasion is more predictable than most, for me anyways and for all those who have read the book at least six times. But the directing, the gorgeous cinematography and especially the acting are just so good that I was moved to tears anyway. So many of the actor’s emotions are conveyed by facial expressions rather than dialogue and one would be hard pressed to find better actors to play Anne and Captain Wentworth than Root and Hinds. All I can say is, Bravo!

A bittersweet love story is best accompanied by a cranberry applesauce that combines the tartness and sweetness of autumn in one delicious (and beautiful) dish. I sometimes eat a piece of shortbread with this but it isn’t required. If making your own applesauce seems like a lot of work, please just commit to trying this recipe once. It really isn’t that hard (you don't even need a food mill) and it’s so good it will likely become a regular in your repertoire. Cranberry applesauce can be served as a side dish, as an appetizer, as breakfast, as dessert, hot, cold, or unaccompanied, which is perhaps the best way to experience its bittersweetness. (Unaccompanied, of course, except for the rugged face of Frederick Wentworth and the pathos in Anne Elliot’s eyes.)

CRANBERRY APPLESAUCE

1 cup fresh cranberries
Scant 3/4 cup sugar
2 cups apple juice (or water, if you don't have the juice, but it's better with the juice)
1 cinnamon stick
4 whole cloves
Juice of 1 lemon
2 1/2 pounds tart apples, such as Granny Smith, peeled, cored and roughly diced

In a heavy saucepan, bring the cranberries, sugar, apple juice, cinnamon stick, cloves and lemon juice to a boil over medium-high heat. Reduce to medium-low and simmer, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes. Add the apples and bring back to a simmer. Simmer about 10 minutes, until the apples are soft, but not mush.

With a slotted spoon, scoop out the cranberries and apples and set them aside. Bring the syrup back to a boil and simmer until reduced to 1/2 cup, about 15 minutes. Remove from heat and taste. (Be careful! It will be very hot!!) If you want it more sweet, stir in some honey, a teaspoon at a time. Discard the cinnamon stick and cloves. Stir the syrup back into the fruits. Serve the applesauce warm, cold or room temperature. Store in the fridge, where it will keep (fierce and unabashed) for up to 1 week.