CHRISTMAS EVE POST

This is the insert I put in the Lovely Librarians' Christmas Tins this morning:

A Very Happy Christmas To You

Chocolate Espresso Cookies

Oatmeal Walnut Cookies

Pfeffernüsse

Raspberry Jam Sandwiches

Fruitcake

Chocolate Peppermint Bars

xo

The Beetle

I'm going to let that serve as the intro here. I would type more but I've washed my hands and various bowls and mixers so many times since Friday that they have clawed into dry husks of their former selves and all I will be doing until 2014 is coating them in Bag Balm and whimpering quietly.

And so.

CHOCOLATE ESPRESSO COOKIES

We've talked about these. I made them for my boyfriend Chris Hemsworth's movie premiere and when I was deciding what cookies to make for the LL's, Mum said "You have to make those chocolate espresso things again. Except make sure you make enough that you can give them to the Library but also there are leftovers too." 

These cookies are like that perfect man at a Holiday Party . . . dark and handsome with just a hint of danger, but ultimately reliable and emotionally and financially stable. A man upon whom you develop a crush before you've even had time to take your coat off, and you spend the next three weeks fantasizing about your life together.

OATMEAL WALNUT COOKIES

THESE cookies are the equivalent of your grandparents when you arrive home for Christmas. Familiar, safe, the ultimate in comfy and cosy. And also slightly . . . um . . . nutty.

PFEFFERNUSSE

These were at the behest of Mum. They are, I think, her favourite cookie on earth, and I suspect her suggestion of them during "LL Gift Tin Planning" was a slightly biased contribution.

The dough after chilling overnight.
Essential for letting all the flavours blend together.  

Pre-sugared . . . 

 . . . and post.

These are like your favourite Aunt. The one you don't see very often. The one who is slightly snarky and cynical, hilarious, and who says exactly what's on her mind. And every time you see her you think "why don't we do this more often?" 

BEETLE NOTES

These are perfect at Christmas - they're like Gingerbread on steroids. So spicy, so warm, and oh so festive-looking.

I ended up making two batches. The first baking sheet cooked faster than I thought it was going to, and, if I'm honest, I could have used THEM instead of the snow shovel to break up the semi-melted ice on the front patio. HOWEVER. I am saving them, and am planning on using them in a custard trifle thing this coming weekend. So there. See? I totally planned to burn the crap out of them. Huh. 

RASPBERRY JAM SANDWICHES

I asked Father Christmas for a pastry mat. 

At the moment cookies like these involve the dough butcher block, which weighs more than me.

Mind you, rolling and cutting dough on a hunk of wood the size of a twin bed is incredibly soothing.

These cookies are the awesome girlfriend your brother or cousin brings home. She's beautiful, smart, stylish without seeming to make any effort at all, and you immediately want to be her best friend for life. 

BEETLE NOTES

This is the "Rich Butter Roll Out Cookie" recipe from Joy of Cooking. I'm keeping it on hand for the next time I want to make any kind of shaped or decorated cookie. On it's own, without jam, jimmies (sprinkles for those of you who do NOT speak New England), or icing, it makes a rich-yet-light, simple-yet-elegant, flaky-yet-decadent cookie.

See? It's the girlfriend about whom you grab your brother, drag him into the kitchen and hiss "marry her now dammit she's amazing." 

FRUITCAKE

I mean, it wouldn't be Christmas without a Fruitcake, would it?

My version has currants, apricots, figs, crystallised ginger, golden raisins, orange and lemon extracts, and a hell of a lot of molasses. 

This one is . . . well . . . the Fruitcake. The Uncle that's kind of weird but ultimately lovable. You roll your eyes at him but deep down you enjoy his company and you think his jokes are actually pretty funny. He probably wears socks and sandals. And maybe a sport eyeglass-chain around his neck.

He doesn't get any pop culture references and he tells the story, yet again, about the time you threw up during your school's Christmas pageant when you were seven, but he's sweet and he tries, and he's got your back when Aunt Ethel starts in on why you haven't gotten married yet. 

CHOCOLATE PEPPERMINT BARS

This is kind of like a York Peppermint Patty that went to Tibet to live with the monks for a year, became a Triathlete, got a PhD in Astrophysics, and started a charity for homeless kids all in the space of a single year. It's just . . . woah. The basic components remain the same as the original but the new version is just SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Chocolate cakey-biscuit bottom, peppermint buttercream-y middle, solid dark chocolate top with a sprinkling of crushed peppermint candies. Say it with me now . . . nom nom nom nom. 

Note the Peppermint Icing oozing up through the layers.
Less a "this is supposed to happen" and more of a "woops maybe I should have chilled it longer." 

This one, I think, is like your favourite cousin of all time. You've been thick as thieves since you were babies and the first thing you do when you see her is disappear upstairs to spill all your gossip. She makes you laugh until your stomach hurts, she pretends to vomit when Aunt Joyce gives you yet another "reclaimed yarn scarf", and she helps you dispose of Aunt Edna's Brussels Sprouts in your napkin. Basically, she's your girl.

BEETLE NOTES

This recipe (from Donna Hay) called for vegetable shortening, which I did not have, nor wanted to use. I substituted butter like I normally do, and I think that's why these came out significantly gooier than the magazine photos indicated. There is a NOTE at the bottom of it that says that vegetable shortening "allows the icing to set" and "gives the chocolate a glossy finish." Both, clearly, are true.

I'm not saying that I wish I had used vegetable shortening (or as I like to call it, industrial flame-retardant foam). What I AM saying is that these do need to be chilled before slicing, and preferably served cold as well.

Since I came to this realisation as I was packing them into Christmas tins, the LL's got this one separately, with instructions to keep in the fridge until ready to eat. (LL's, if Mum forgot to tell you this, which let's be honest she probably did, consider this your official advice.) This also necessitated packing the bag containing said Peppermint Slices in the trunk and wedging ice packs around it so that they would stay chilled until the moment of delivery. Because. That's how I roll. 

The super fun part of making these is that the topping involves smashing a bag of Peppermints WITH A HAMMER. Which. Is. So. Fun. I took myself out to the mudroom and spent a gloriously noisy 5 minutes beating the crap out out of them. If you are suffering from holiday stress, dear reader, I highly recommend it. It's incredibly therapeutic. And the added bonus is that whatever room you do it in smells like peppermint for the next few hours. 

 And so.

Monday morning found me, coffee in hand, OCD-ing to my little heart's content, double wrapping everything in tissue paper, checking it off on the colour-coded contents list, repacking the extras in their specially appointed tupperwares . . .  IT WAS GLORIOUS.

And so, dear reader, on Christmas Eve (because HOLY CRAP IT'S CHRISTMAS EVE NOW I GOTTA GET MOVING THERE IS LOTS OF PICKLED HERRING TO DISH OUT) I wish you all a very Happy Holidays (denominational and non). May visions of sugarplums dance in your heads as you drift off to sleep, and may tomorrow morning be bright and festive and filled with yummy and sparkly things. 

hmmm, I wonder which one of the above I'm going to leave out for Father Christmas . . .  

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL AND TO ALL A GOOD NIGHT!