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!

Santa Lucia Day and BUNS

It's Lucia! Happy Lucia, dear reader! Today is the day when the following things happen:

1. I deliver freshly made Saffron Buns and coffee to Mum in the morning wearing a white nightgown with a red sash around it. Nope, too cold for that. Try two pairs of sweatpants and a Forever Lazy.

My crown.

2. I wear a crown of holly and candles to symbolize the bringing of light during the Winter Solstice, and the hope of spring to come. Nope. Fire hazard. Instead I have a plastic crown with AA batteries that blinks off when I move my head too sharply. It's from Sweden and has the single most bobo paper-clip-to-battery-end-connection I have ever encountered.

3. I sing the Santa Lucia song in Swedish whilst carrying in the tray, my candle crown the only source of illumination, my voice the only sound in the silence of the early morning. Nope. Youtube video of gorgeous blonde Swedish girls singing a song I have found singularly impossible to memorise, and the paper-clipped-batteries barely give off the wattage of a penlight, so all the library lamps had to be on too. 

This is what I'm supposed to look like today:

This is what I look like at 6 am during the winter:

BUT THERE WERE SAFFRON BUNS AND COFFEE. I DID MANAGE THAT. 

AND THAT STILL COUNTS. 

Sweatpanted, batteried, and youtubed, we still managed to have a lovely early morning Lucia breakfast.

I do wonder if there's some sort of correlation between using Saffron on Lucia morning and it being, to use the New England vernacular, "wicked cold outside and dark all the time." Saffron is GORGEOUS. It's such a bright coppery orange colour, and the flavour is so deep and rich and . . . I don't know . . . filling? nourishing? whole-making? I don't know how to describe it. But somehow it makes you feel like yes, there is a girl with candles on her head coming at you and yes, that means that the sunlight will return, and yes, your mouth is full of saffron and butter and yes, that means that warmth and fullness and bounty will return.

It is singularly impossible to be despairing . . . 

When all you can smell is saffron and butter and yeast. IMPOSSIBLE. 

If for any reason you want to hear and see a proper Lucia celebration, here is a link to a full Swedish one. It's depressingly pretty, and makes you realise that, in my case at least, you will never be tall and blonde and successful. Have at it.

Happy Lucia, everyone! And if you feel like Wikipedia today, you too can find out that the original Saint Lucy apparently swore her body and soul to Christ (like you do), then, when a young man wanted to marry her and expressed admiration for her eyes, she . . . um . . . gouged them out herself to fend off his advances. They were apparently restored after she was beatified.

Personally, I'd rather have another bun.

LUCIA BUNS

• 1 egg
• 2/3 cup sugar
• 1 package yeast
• 1/4 cup warm water
• 1 tsp salt
• 2 cups milk, scalded and cooled
• Pinch powdered saffron
• 7 1/2 - 8 cups white flour
• 4tbs melted butter

FOR THE GLAZE

• 4 tbs melted butter
• Pinch powdered saffron

Dissolve the yeast in the warm water. In a mixer, beat together the egg and the sugar. Stir the salt into the scalded milk, then add the saffron. Combine the milk mixture with the egg mixture, then stir in the yeast mixture and beat until completely combined.

Just that much saffron is enough to make the entire house smell incredible.

*this is where you switch from the beater to the dough hook if you are using a mixmaster

Add the first four cups of flour, beating well after each one. The batter will be very springy. Add the melted butter. Add the remaining 3 1/2 - 4 cups of flour, one at a time. Stop adding when the dough gets stiff. (I normally have to stop after 3 1/2, I rarely make it to 8 cups.) Knead either with your own hands or the mixer until the dough is smooth.

Place the dough in a lightly greased mixing bowl and let it rise 1 - 1 1/2 hours, until doubled. Punch it down and let it rise again 30 minutes - 1 hour.

SHAPING THE DOUGH

There are varying opinions here. Beatrice favours a four-leaf clover style of bun, where you make a long rope, then slice the ends length-ways and curl them around. I prefer the "S" bun. You still make a long rope of dough, but just twist the ends so that it resembles an "S".

Once you've shaped the buns, lay them out on a baking sheet lined with parchment paper and cover with Cling Film. Let them rise another 20 minutes or so until they're puffy again.

"S" is for . . . "Santa Lucia"? "Solstice?" "Self-imposed blindness?"

Bake them at 375 degrees for 20 - 25 minutes, until golden and brown on the top. Glaze whilst they are still warm.

THE GLAZE
Beatrice uses a glaze made of coffee and sugar in her cookbook. Far be it from me to speak ill of ANYTHING that woman uses in her kitchen, but I'm always afraid that a coffee glaze will cancel out the saffron, and then you defeat the purpose of putting saffron in the buns in the first place. Last year I came up with the glaze above instead, which is just melted butter and a bit more saffron.

My thinking is if you're going to go saffron, GO SAFFRON. Save the coffee glaze (which, it must be said, is perfectly acceptable) for a regular sweet bun later on.

For the LL's, because OF COURSE THEY HAVE TO PARTAKE TOO. Instead of another million S buns, I did the traditional Pulla loaf, Finnish coffee bread style. Divide the dough into three long ropes and braid them together. I baked it in the same oven for the same amount of time and it came out quite nicely.

BEETLE NOTE: This is best, hands down, when stuck in the toaster oven or warmed in a regular oven for a few minutes before hand. It softens the saffron-butter glaze on top and softens the dough too, which can lean towards the stiff side. 

ONE MORE NOTE: Some people use raisins, putting one at the hook of each S, or in the middle of each four-leaf clover. I have done this in the past, and find the results to be middling. I am of the same camp for this as I am for the coffee glaze. Why detract from the Saffron with a raisin or two? Save your coffee and your raisins for another day, dear reader. Keep these simple and saffrony. 

THAT'S WHAT S IS FOR. SAFFRON. DUH. 

All wrapped up for my LL's. 

It must be said, I plan on wearing my crown ALL NIGHT LONG. POSSIBLY EVEN TO FOLD THE LAUNDRY. 

I only get ONE candle-crown day per year, so I'm going to make the most of it. 

Just cross your fingers the paperclips don't catch fire.  

Little Christmas in a BIG WAY

HAPPY LITTLE CHRISTMAS, EVERYONE!

Or, as I should say today: HAUSKAA PIKKUJOULU!

FROM WIKIPEDIA: 

"Pikkujoulu (Finnish for "little Christmas") is a Finnish traditional party held to anticipate Christmas. The Pikkujoulu party is non-formal, highly festive, and themed after Christmas. Pikkujoulu parties can be held by various communities, organisations, companies, or just among friends. Pikkujoulu differs from Christmas as more free-form and less religious. It is traditional to serve Christmas food and drink at a Pikkujoulu party, such as rice pudding and glögg."

BEETLE NOTE: It is also traditional, as of this year, to serve goat-shaped gingersnaps with red icing harnesses. 

"Pikkujoulu is based on the Advent: the Advent signified the waiting for Jesus Christ and the fasting, which ended on Christmas. In the 19th century, the Advent was sometimes called "the little Christmas", i.e. Pikkujoulu. The proper Pikkujoulu tradition started in Helsinki after World War I. The basis for the party was "Christmas tree parties" held in schools. The supper parties held at the end of autumn by student nations gradually formed into the modern Pikkujoulu. Pikkujoulu parties started by student nations grew out to other communities in the 1930s. Before World War II, the parties were sometimes called "porridge parties"."

BEETLE NOTE: Only in Finland would something be deemed "festive" when it involved porridge.

"Joulupukki is a Finnish Christmas figure. The name "Joulupukki" literally means "Christmas goat" or "Yule Goat" in Finnish; the word pukki comes from the Teutonic root bock, which is a cognate of the English "buck", "Puck", and means "billy-goat". An old Scandinavian custom, the figure eventually became more or less conflated with Santa Claus."

BEETLE NOTE: Hence the goat-shaped cookies. They are CHRISTMAS GOATS. 

Because nothing says "Christmas!" like a goat. And possibly porridge. 

"The Joulupukki or "Yule Buck" is originally a pagan tradition. He is connected to the ase Wōden of the norse mythology and said to wear red leather pants and a fur trimmed red leather coat. Under the Winter Solstice - going by the names of Jólnir (yule figure) and Langbarðr (long-beard) - Wōden led the Wild Hunt accompanied by Thor driving his a flying wagon drawn by goat bucks. The Joulupukki may also be a man turned into a goat-man on Christmas Eve, as it is seen in Elsa Beskow's Peter and Lotta's Christmas. There persists today in some parts of Finland the custom of persons dressing in goat costume to perform for leftover food after Christmas. Historically, such a person was an older man, and the tradition refers to him as a nuuttipukki."

BEETLE NOTE: This is why I made approximately seven million Joulupukkis. 

Seven million is only a slight exaggeration.

Also. THOR IS INVOLVED IN CHRISTMAS. 

Also. I read Peter and Lotta's Christmas every year. It's sweet. It's also insane. If THIS ever happened during Christmas dinner: 

I would freak out SO BADLY. I imagine it would be hard to feel like "yay presents!" and "yay seasonal cheer!" if you are weeping in fear under the table begging the giant goat man not to kill you.

HOWEVER, DEAR READER. 

This post is NOT to muse on the insanity of certain pagan Christmas traditions, but to wish you all a very VERY VERY VERY Happy Little Christmas! And to mark this, what better cookie to make than "Suomalaiset Pipparkakut" (Finnish Gingersnaps) shaped like Joulupukkis? 

Exactly. 

The recipe is OF COURSE one of Beatrice's. It involves a ridiculous amount of ginger and molasses and black pepper. The dough comes together essentially black, very stiff, very dense and dark. The baking result is a thin, super crunchy, spicy spicy spicy mouthful of Christmas amazingness. And I can only imagine that having a red icing harness thrown into the mix makes them all the more tasty. Mum seems to think so, at least. 

FINNISH GINGERSNAPS (goat shape optional) 

INGREDIENTS

• 1/2 cup molasses or dark corn syrup
• 1/2 cup dark brown sugar
• 1/2 cup (1 stick) butter
• 1/2 cup heavy cream
• 1 tbs ginger
• 1 tbs cinnamon
• 3 - 3 1/2 cups white flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp salt

In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat together the syrup, brown sugar, and butter until smooth. Add the cream, ginger, cinnamon, flour, baking powder, and salt, and continue mixing until the dough is stiff. Chill for several hours.

Roll out small portions of the dough into 1/4 inch thickness, and cut into 3 inch rounds. Bake at 375 degrees for 8-10 minutes.

BEETLE NOTE: These are supposed to be crazy thin. They are supposed to be so thin that they will snap if you look at them for too long. Hence "snap." Ha!

At this point the dough was the approximate thickness of gold leaf.

It's like an army of Christmas Goats.

An army of Spicy, Paper-Thin Christmas Goats.

I got my Housewife on an lugged out the enormous wooden rolling block that takes up the entire counter. This meant I had LOTS of space to make the Joulupukki's extra extra extra thin. So thin, in fact, that 8-10 minutes was too much.

Mine were done in SEVEN.

TAKE THAT, BEATRICE. 

They baked up quite nicely, and I decided that the small bubbles that appeared in the surface were just irregularities that occur naturally in the fur of Christmas Goats. Because. Why not.

I rolled out the dough twice but after that didn't want to re-roll and push the flour-to-dough quotient over the edge, so instead I just spatula-ed what was left from the cut outs onto a baking sheet and made what as of this year I'm dubbing "Abstract Gingernsnaps" or "Gingersnap Shards." Mum says they look like something you'd get at one of those restaurants where you are served a single bubble of pale pink foam the size of a golf ball which, when punctured at table, releases "essence of rhododendron" that is supposed to make your dining experience not just three but FOUR dimensional.

Anyway. Mum got the first round of harnesses, when I was getting the hang of it.

And these are the good-looking ones of that round. The others look like the Joulupukki were in a traffic accident.

The Lovely Librarians got the nice ones, natch. An enormous box of them was delivered last night with STRICT INSTRUCTIONS that it was only to be opened on Pikkujoulu.

I hope they obeyed.

Since it is traditional to give small presents on Pikkujoulu, Mum got snazzy running socks this morning, along with the messier of the Joulupukki's for breakfast. Though actually, in our house, socks are always a welcome present, given to each other for almost every occasion. I guess in Germany you are supposed to leave your shoes out overnight and they are filled with presents the next morning, so I suppose taking that into consideration, socks are actually quite appropriate.

Marching towards Christmas! One gingery cloven hoof at a time! 

So Happy Little Christmas and Hauskaa Pikkujoulu to one and all! And let it be known that as of today, CHRISTMAS IS ON.

WE'RE AT ELFCON LEVEL 5 OVER HERE. 

I'm sure the terrifying old-goat-man would approve. Right before he killed you and ate you for dinner.