Chocolate Chip Cookies

Anyone with any affinity for chocolate loves chocolate chip cookies. It's been months and months since I made my last batch, though, because I got tired of them. For the first year I was married, they were a staple in our house. I'd whisk together the dry ingredients, mix melted butter with sugars and eggs, and add wet to dry like I was making muffins. I'd stir in a parsimonious amount of chocolate chips and freeze little hockey pucks of dough for use as needed. The resulting cookie had the texture of a shortbread and refused to spread out much on the pan, which I liked, because it was great with a scoop of ice cream.

Cookies and ice cream just about every night sounds great, doesn't it? After a year (maybe a year and a half), I was SO OVER IT. I branched out.

Then I read the Times' article and something inside me stirred. It was cinched when my husband, without prompting, remarked the other day that he wished I'd make chocolate chip cookies again sometime. And, of course, everybody's been making these lately. There's something about the chocolate chip cookie that makes it seem so... accessible. No worries about criticism from your audience: It's a freakin' cookie! And it's got salt on it for gosh sakes!

So, it's my turn. Some killjoy nutritionist sent a letter to the editor that was published on the day I made these. Come on. Everyone knows cookies are a sometimes food. I must have made these a little smaller than the recipe calls for, anyway, because my yield was about 3.5 dozen three-inch cookies, while the recipe suggests that if you make five-inch cookies, you'll get about 18 out of it. Ouch!

Two things I'll take from this recipe: Use flat chocolate pieces for decadent layers of cookie and chocolate, and let your dough rest in the fridge at least a full day for the best consistency. I couldn’t find feves small enough, but flat rectangular chocolate chunks achieve the same effect. I also cut back on the chips a little because of personal taste. Don't forget the sprinkle of salt... or do, as I have, every single time after the first batch. Freeze the dough in pucks, bake as needed, and leave your guilt at the door.

BLT

Since BLTs are so quick and easy to make, I thought I'd show off my mad tomato balancing skills - no tricks! This sandwich could easily have been a T if it were just me. Tomatoes = yum. Do not refrigerate them, under any circumstances.

Construction:

(lightly toasted brioche bread)
(arugula)
(applewood-smoked bacon)
(tomato slices)
(aioli - lemon, garlic, basil, oil, yolks in a blender)
(lightly toasted brioche bread)

Full disclosure: (1) Brioche, for all its buttery, eggy goodness, is not the most outstanding sandwich bread for a potentially wet sandwich such as this one, though the aioli layer helped keep tomato juices from making everything too soggy. Consume quickly. (2) Yellow tomato, I love you, but I can't tell a flavor difference. Are you less acidic? No matter. You made my sandwich pretty.

Simplex Munditiis

Brioche

Ask not what copious amounts of eggs and butter can do for you...

My perceptive husband got me The French Laundry Cookbook for my birthday in May (Actually, he'd be the first to admit that he's not that perceptive. Apparently I've been yammering on about some blog or other.). Ever since, from a dorm room extra-long twin bed in Athens, GA, I've dreamed of making pasta and brioche, two of the richest recipes therein that, nevertheless, do not require unusual ingredients.

Brioche. Why did that word strike terror into my veins? I surfed my bookshelves and found Alton Brown's I'm Just Here for More Food, his baking tome. In it, he gives a cute, detailed description of how his pizza dough, which is phenomenal and hasn't failed me yet, gives birth to a brioche dough. The recipe involves folding butter into a wet dough by hand in layers and slapping it around. Reading it again gave me the shivers. I'm sure his science is sound, but man, I hate scraping dough crap off my palms, then finding little bits of dough crust between my fingers hours later.

This dough was no match for my Kitchen Aid Pro Mixer.

I was super-worried when I stuck the dough in the fridge for the overnight rise. It was sticky. How can a dough composed mostly of sugar, butter, and eggs, and half cake flour develop enough to rise? I pulled out the dough the next day, cut it in half, shaped it into rectangles, and dropped them into loaf pans for a 3-hour rise. They were puny. I carried the babies upstairs and put them in my sunniest window. Sometime during this afternoon, the air conditioner must have gone out. Divine intervention?

Against all odds...

It rose above the pan, I baked it with my brand-new oven thermometer and discovered that my oven can be off by as much as 50 degrees -- good to know -- and all was well, except my house was 80 degrees and rising.

I tend to get repetitive when describing flavors, so I'll let Carol give it a go:

"It was eggy and bready and light and airy and fluffy like a floaty, delicious pillow of lovely, cakey goodness."

So there you are.

We made BLTs out of the bread, of which more, later.

Find someone too sweet to say no (in this case, my sister) to take the other loaf off your hands, or banish it to the freezer, or make some luxurious croutons from it.

Blueberry Soup

*Beware blueberry teeth -- photos to be held in evidence.

First, the leftovers: Added to a blender, with ice, strawberries, and nonfat yogurt, it made a darn good smoothie this afternoon while I waited for the air conditioner repairman to show.

Sorry – no picture of the soup itself. It’s just deep purple-blue with a nice dollop of yogurt in the middle.

After reading Bittman, I decided I had to try my hand at blueberry soup. I scouted out other recipes and decided on Martha Stewart’s for its lack of extraneous spices. I halved it to make three servings, which was perfect – My sister was coming over the next day, and I could consume a “test” serving the night before.

I didn’t feel like opening a(nother) bottle of wine with just me around this week, so I subbed the apple juice I had on hand to good effect. After straining the blueberries, taking time to squeeze through every last ounce of juice and pulp to leave only skins in the mesh strainer, I wondered to myself what the difference is between soup and juice, but with a dollop of yogurt, it had enough richness to enter soup territory.

So good, and just sweet enough.

Blueberry Soup (3 servings)

¼ c sugar
1 c water
12 oz. blueberries
3 oz. apple juice (1/2 a kid-sized juice carton, if you’re curious)
1 tsp lemon zest
1 tsp lemon juice
3 tablespoons yogurt or buttermilk (I used nonfat Greek yogurt, which was around)
extra sugar or lemon juice (optional)

In a medium saucepan over high heat, stir sugar into water until dissolved; bring to a boil. Add blueberries, wine, and lemon zest, and stir until about half the blueberries have burst. Place mesh sieve over a bowl and pass mixture through it, pushing and scraping with a spoon to get out all the blueberry-ness you can. Stir in lemon juice. Taste, and add sugar or lemon juice as needed: sugar for dessert, lemon juice for a first course. Chill at least a couple of hours. Serve well chilled in a bowl or goblet, adding a dollop of yogurt or buttermilk just before serving.

On Flaking Out

Eleven miles on a flat, out-and-back course with minimal shade but plenty of good listenings: a recipe for running success, in my book. Sadly, today was not my day. I don't like to flake out and walk the last half-mile. I also don't like to beat myself up, but sometimes I deserve it. Contributing factors:

1. Heat and humidity. If I had left at 6 instead of 7, it might have been better, but the temperature was still hovering around 72-73, the low for the previous night. I was sweating profusely before I left the subdivision.
2. Sun and lack of shade. I didn't choose a scenic route, a decision based on distance (the two that I like are 9 and 12 miles long) and desire for flat and easy.
3. Which brings me to... general laziness and lack of motivation in the final stretch of my run. "Oh, I've already done 10.5... the last bit is uphill, I'm hot to the point of overheating, my soundtrack just ended, and anyway who cares?"

To my credit (and just so you know I'm not nearly as filled with self-loathing as I seem), I ran well and pushed myself hard for the vast majority of the time. I also really respect the people that I see in the middle of the day pushing out the miles. How do they do it? My source of motivation for the next couple of months will be training for a half marathon this fall. Woohoo!

I need a large swimming pool to jump into after workouts like today's. Until I get one, a popsicle and a cold shower will have to suffice.

The Unapologetic Carnivore Returns

Don't be fooled - these are wee little burgers!

I can count on one hand the number of times I've had meat in the past three and a half weeks. I haven't really missed it, except the burger thought bubble that just won't pop, especially after reading A Hamburger Today consistently all summer long without making burgers myself.

At Sofie's Bistro several months ago, I had a yummy pea crostini app. Ever since then, I've been dying to make a version of it. Having had ample time to fixate on my kitchen while away, I mentally constructed this dish many times, and consulted a million recipes. Here's the final incarnation.

Lamb Sliders with Pea Mash

Ingredients:

1/2 lb. ground lamb

2 tbsp. chopped fresh basil

2 tbsp. minced shallot
1 1/2 cups peas, steamed

2 tbsp. chopped fresh basil

4 tbsp. nonfat Greek yogurt

salt and pepper to taste

small hamburger buns (Publix dinner rolls are perfect-- slightly sweet, made with the same dough as their bigger buns)

Directions:

Using your hands in a large bowl, mix lamb, 2 tbsp. basil, shallot, salt, and pepper. Form into 4 patties about 4 inches in diameter, making a depression in the center of each. Set on wax paper on a cookie sheet and refrigerate for about thirty minutes.

Meanwhile, using a potato ricer in a (different) large bowl, mash up peas, remaining basil, yogurt, and salt and pepper to taste. Set this in the fridge.

Heat a large pan and fry burgers to desired doneness, especially if it's raining out and your grill is inaccessible. Top each bun with a burger and a dollop of pea mash and press on the top bun.

Makes 4 sliders, with perhaps a bit of leftover mash.

Results: Easy and delicious. Peas and lamb were made for each other. Next time, I'll leave the burger plain, with just salt and pepper, and work some chopped red onion into the pea mixture for crunch (my husband suggests bacon for crunch). Mint would be darn good, instead of or in addition to basil. We drank this with a 2006 cab-syrah blend from Big Tattoo. Great wine, great cause.

Proof that a great burger doesn't have to have cheese (but wouldn't a little square of cheddar be beautiful?).

It's (almost) over

I was feeling all down and despondent yesterday, and I couldn't quite put my finger on why. I mean, I'd just gotten back to Athens, GA after having a blast of a weekend in Nashville with my family, eating good home cooking, walking my dog, and playing Rock Band with my husband.

Oh, I get it. I'm here for three more days, then it's home for good. I miss my kitchen. I miss my blog.

So yesterday, I mapped it all out, and even though I'm going to be busy with more grad school stuff, and DH is going to be out of town all next week, and real-job stuff is starting back (too) soon, I figure if I know EXACTLY what I want to make -- and I do have some ideas up my sleeve -- I can get in a few posts here and there, a few stints in the kitchen to bring up my spirits and make it finally feel like summer.

I've been dying to try TNS's First Thursday - look out come August!

Tomorrow: Girl meets grill.