Happy Hallowen!

On my very first Halloween, figuring I might as well set the bar high from the outset, I went as both Tom AND Jerry. (see below) The costume was, as far as I remember, straight out of that Dan Aykroyd SNL skit when he tries to tell Jane Curtain that the "Johnny Space Commander" costume of a plastic bag and a rubber band is safe and fun. The vinyl of the bib thingy was beyond flammable, and very certainly toxic, and the only air hole in the mask was a teeny tiny slit near the mouth. It's a wonder, looking back, that I didn't spontaneously combust and/or asphyxiate during the course of the evening.

With my BFF and trick or treating buddy for the next 15 years.

I don't remember much about the first one, probably due to a near-fatal-sugar-overload-blackout, but I do remember all the successive ones, all with my bestie and her little sister, all in the end reaching a fever pitch of excitement, happiness, and chocolate. This was back in the good old days when you could trick or treat at night and only marginally supervised, and as long as we had one parent with us, we were allowed to run rampant through the streets of Cambridge.

This being Cambridge of course, the costumes were esoteric bordering on ludicrous, taken more seriously than the candy itself, and planned months and months in advance. One year I was Poseidon, with a trident made out of papier mache and an old rake. One year I was Carmen Miranda, the next the Bride of Frankenstein (Elsa Lanchester version, natch) My best friend Sarah was, in no particular order: Isis, Ishtar, and a cigarette.

I should have realised then that the post-trick-or-treat candy organisation was a sign of OCD to come. Returning home to Sarah's house, we would dump our plastic buckets out on the floor of her living room and spend twenty silent minutes obsessively arranging it in piles according to type and taste appreciation. Then the trading began.

Reese cups were GOLD - a full size one could get you a mini Snickers AND a PayDay, no questions asked. After that were Milky Ways, Caramellos, KitKats, etc. The bottom of the candy barrel, (in other words un-tradeable and therefore to be given to parents) were Dots (ew), Rollos, and Charleston Chews.

Sarah loved Tootsie Rolls and Starbursts, so I set mine aside to be bartered for what I wanted, namely the Junior Mints and Peppermint Patties she was piling up for me in return.

When she was old enough, her little sister Joanna was allowed to participate, and for a few glorious years until she wised up, we systematically and ruthlessly robbed her blind, convincing a 5 year-old that one box of Nerds was totally worth a full size Reese Cup.

We did this for the rest of the night, methodically getting rid of what we didn't want and eating what we did. It was the best part of Halloween.

When I look back now, I realise that it was more about the costume creation and the candy organising than the actual consumption. After a handful of Reese Cups and maybe a Peppermint Patty or two, I was ok with Mum "putting the candy in a safe place aka throwing it away." I was too busy planning next year.

AND NOW THAT WALK DOWN SPOOKY MEMORY LANE IS OVER, ON TO COOKIES!

PUMPKIN SPICE OATMEAL WHITE CHOCOLATE CHIP COOKIES

INGREDIENTS

• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 2 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp ginger
• 1/4 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp allspice
• 1/4 tsp ground cloves
• ½ teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter
• 1 cup packed dark brown sugar
• 1 cup granulated sugar
• 1 cup pumpkin puree
• 1 egg
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 ½ cups rolled oats
• 1 package white chocolate chips

In a large bowl combine the flour, soda, spices, and salt. Set aside. Beat the butter and both sugars together until light and fluffy. Beat in, one at a time, the egg, the pumpkin, and the vanilla.

Off the mixer, stir in the rolled oats, followed by the chocolate chips. FYI, the batter will be on the damp side.

Drop rounded spoonfuls onto parchment lined baking sheets and bake at 325 degrees for 12-15 minutes, until set on top and brown around the edges.

Remove to wire racks to cool. 

BEETLE NOTES

These are very cakey, spicy, pumpkiny cookies. I deliberately almost doubled the spices from other pumpkin cookie recipes, knowing that with the addition of oats and white chocolate, these could handle it. I know a lot of people see white chocolate chips in a cookie and immediately throw in cranberries (not without reason, it must be said, it's a good combo) but I wanted PUMPKIN to be the major taste here.

I knew that white chocolate would be a rich, sweet, compliment to the earthy vegetable-ness of pumpkin and the bite of all those spices, and I was worried that the tartness and chewiness of cranberries would detract and confuse. Oatmeal would add nuttiness and crunch, but without disturbing the balance. 

Also, I wanted to keep it simple. Minimalist. 

I mean, as minimalist as a pumpkin spice oatmeal white chocolate chip cookie can be.

White Chocolate doesn't exactly scream
"elimination of non-essential forms."

These were not meant to be enjoyed by Mum for the very direct reason that she doesn't like white chocolate. Never has, never will. But she put her game face on last night and tried one, bless her, remarking that they were good, dark, and nutty. She said that for her they were a bit sweet, which I chalk up to the white chocolate, but that overall they were definitely a success. 

LL's, I really hope you agree. 

This version is super dark in particular because I used Muscovado sugar instead of regular brown. Not only does it make the cookies physically darker (and one time I made gingersnaps, actually black), it is much more complex than regular brown sugar, with a stronger, deeper, more three-dimensional flavour. 

If brown sugar is the teenager who wears a nose ring and writes in diaries and "emotes", then Muscovado is a full on goth with black lipstick, facial piercings, and her own death metal band. It's the real deal. 

It's also insanely expensive, which is why I normally don't use it. I remember unpacking groceries one afternoon and Mum waving the receipt in my face going WHAT THE HELL KIND OF SUGAR COSTS $15 A BAG.

The various recipes I pulled together for this had a consensus cooking time of 12 minutes. It needed closer to 15. And as I said above, they ARE very cakey. Do not hold out for a crisp traditional chocolate chip cookie because they will burn and possibly take your kitchen with them.

Note the cakey-ness. And in some cases the cakey-ness becoming cookie-splodgey-ness.

I think if I do these again I will add more oatmeal, and possibly a bit less sugar. In my "ideal cookie" universe I'd like these to be a bit firmer and not so sweet that Mum remarks on it.

Final verdict, hopefully, will be a good one. The cookie-transporter has been transported and I very much hope the Lovely Librarians are sampling them as I type. (I even did holiday-appropriate orange construction paper this time, you guys!)





I have the house to myself tonight (I mean, apart from the cats) and I am desperately hoping that I get trick or treaters. I have a bowl of candy already waiting by the side door and a Fox Mask to wear while distributing. I'm not super optimistic, though. Living in East Bumblefart, MA means that the trick or treating happens at the elementary school in the middle of the day and that I'm very probably not going to get anyone.

BUT I SHALL BE READY.

I even bought extra Reese Cups. I know how these kids roll.

BEETLE WISHES YOU A HAPPY HALLOWEEN!

Painting and Tea Bars

I am pleased to report from Beetle HQ that the kitchen floor has been painted! It is now a glorious sky blue, and neither Mum nor I can get over how much bigger and brighter everything looks. For me especially, I am INSANELY EXCITED to cook in a sky-blue-floored kitchen.

Of course what has to happen first is that all the furniture has to be moved back in. 

Of course what that means is that all the furniture that is normally in the kitchen is in the dining room. 

A dining room that was pretty full of furniture already. 

Now . . . I'm not sure how well thus far I've managed to convey my feelings on organisation. If I haven't, and you are unclear on them, allow me an analogy:

Organisation : Beetle's Sanity 

A Beating Heart : Sustained Life

Does that help? 

After a weekend spent climbing over chests of drawers, benches, vacuum cleaners, and (why not?) cast concrete dog statues, when nothing is where it should be and I can't do anything about it, this is kind of what I looked like at dinner last night. 

BUT, DEAR READER, TAKE HEART. Because what's the one guaranteed way to make yourself feel better about household overflow insanity? 

BUYING MORE STUFF, OBVIOUSLY. 

That's right! After the first coat on Friday, banned from the kitchen for the requisite paint-drying six hours, neither of us could think of a better use of our time than going to Target and buying things. Because when the house looks like a home-decor tornado hit it, what's a few more silverware racks? 

Exactly. 

For the most part we kept our heads. We did NOT get a pair of black glitter ceramic ravens. We did NOT get a wicker hamper large enough to hold a dead body. And we did NOT get matching union suits with foxes on them. 

Mind you, we DID get get polka dot long underwear, but, I mean . . . Hello. It's Target. The persuasive power of Target would put a North Korean interrogator to shame. 

And, probably, get him to buy a shower caddy. 

I did buy these though. Which. HAPPINESS. 

It's a good thing I made the latest Beetle Bakery item BEFORE the kitchen was rendered beautiful, bare, and totally unusable.

It's almost Halloween, and whilst I have a special Halloween treat for my Lovely Librarians planned, I wanted to give them something nice for the weekend. Something autumnal and spicy, something not chocolate, something portable, something vaguely healthy, and something that was more "afternoon tea" than "dessert." 

Also something that used up a portion of my truly apocalyptic-preparedness-level supply of dried fruit.

So. What do you get when you put together Currants, Dates, Apricots, and Crystallized Ginger? 

BEHOLD. 

HARVEST TEA BARS

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, melted
• scant 2 cups sugar
• 3 eggs
• 1 1/2 tsp vanilla extract
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp salt
• 1 heaping tsp cinnamon
• 1 cup currants
• 1 cup chopped dates
• 1 cup chopped dried apricots
• 1 cup chopped crystallized ginger

In a small bowl combine the flour, baking soda, and salt, and set aside. In the bowl of a mixmaster beat the butter, sugar, eggs, and vanilla until light and fluffy. 

Add the flour mixture a bit at a time, beating well after each addition. Stir in the currants, dates, apricots, and ginger one by one, giving it a really good each time. 

Pour the mixture into a shallow brownie-type pan and bake at 325 degrees for 30 minutes until browned on top and starting to pull away from the edges, and a toothpick inserted in the centre comes out clean. 

The batter for this = WICKED DENSE

Wait to cool before cutting into squares.

Like so. 

BEETLE NOTES

I err on the side of non-sweet, as you all know. I put barely two cups of sugar in these and was worried that even that might be too much. Dried fruit adds a bit dose of sweetness, and (duh) crystallized ginger is ginger covered in sugar. I held my breath when Mum did the first taste, but they passed. She says they are not too sweet and if SHE doesn't think they are, then you're good to go. Just be careful if you really don't like sweet things, and maybe even cut it down a bit more.

Ginger covered in sugar, it is true. Delicious and true. 

These were what I had hoped they'd be. Packed to the rafters with dried fruit, chewy, spicy, not-to-sweet, and capable of keeping you going for several hours. Mum has had them for breakfast, lunch, AND dessert and confirmed that they work in each instance. They taste healthy without being "gluten-free-carob-xantham-gum-flax-explosion" healthy, which is what you look for in an afternoon pick me up. 

I'm calling them HARVEST TEA BARS because . . . autumnal harvest? afternoon tea? Yeah. It works. 

When I was making this batter, a small voice in my head said "how about a tea LOAF? hmm?" And I have to be honest with you, I was sorely tempted. I haven't made a tea loaf in what feels like eons, and the contents of this simply screamed MAKE ME INTO A TEA LOAF ALREADY. 

I mean, HELLO. I AM A TEA LOAF.

However. 

The ratio of flour to wet ingredients was already at the stage when, confirmed via a few hurriedly sent and replied-to texts, making the transformation from Bar to Loaf Slice was potentially problematic. "Too dense!" said BFF with her classic Yankee bluntness, and I had to agree. Going from 2-inch thick chewy bar to 6-inch thick non-chewy-moist-instead slice is more than a matter of a pan. If I was possessed of actual cooking skills, I could probably have done it. But sadly, I am not. A bar it was. 

One bestie (who shall remain nameless) was very helpful in her enthusiasm though if not necessarily in her culinary opinions. Her text of "GIVE ME THOSE NOW" followed by several more texts comprised solely of exclamation points was, nevertheless, appreciated. 

HOWEVER AGAIN. 

Tea Loaf has now been moved into the top 5 of "Beetle's To Be Made" list. Got the recipe and everything. 

It should be noted that I cut these up for the Lovely Librarians with the baking dish balanced on the back of an armchair using an antique serving fork, and placed them on parchment paper that was resting on the Oxford English Dictionary (Q-Z). I then ran out the side door around the house to the OTHER side door, moved a chair, opened the "Miscellaneous Cooking Equipment" cupboard, found a large pie tin, ran back around the house in reverse, loaded them into the pie tin, spent 10 minutes trying to find the tinfoil, FOUND the tinfoil (upstairs foyer, in use to wrap paintbrushes), and wrapped them up nice and snugly with a Beetle label and many x's and o's. 

For you, my LL's. BECAUSE THAT'S HOW MUCH I CARE. 

Proper Comfort Food

I'm not sure if I've mentioned this, but Mum and I are taking Finnish lessons. Every Monday night we go to the Finnish American cultural centre in the next town and sit in the sometimes heated sometimes not function hall, drinking black coffee and trying to figure out whether an umlaut is needed. Or rather, I do that. Mum does not. She, maddeningly enough, already speaks Finnish. She learned it when she lived there as a girl and whilst her grammar and writing isn't fluent, she's pretty decent at the speaking part. And she's exceptionally good at correcting my pronunciation.

Exceptionally good.

I know a word or a sentence here and there, picked up from my grandparents and Mum over the years. I also just found a video on youtube that tells you how to swear in Finnish, and I plan on watching it VERY closely. But I just wanted to share with you, dear reader, what I am attempting to memorise right now. It is ostensibly very simple. Counting from 1 to 10. No problem right? I mean, I feel like everyone can count from 1 to 10 in at least one other language, it's just something you pick up in general passing. I can make it to ten in Spanish and Italian and sometimes German if the mood is right.

This is not the case for Finnish. Would you like to know why?

This is why.

1 – yksi
2 – kaksi
3 – kolme
4 – neljä
5 – viisi
6 – kuusi
7 – seitsemän
8 – kahdeksan
9 – yhdeksän
10 – kymmenen

Right. Now. Would you care to imagine what irregular verb conjugations are like?

Exactly. 

The only thing MORE demoralising than realising you can't even make it to THREE without checking the book is your mother sitting next to you whispering "I bet I can make it to a hundred in under a minute. Wanna see?"

Show off.

She didn't deserve it, but I was the Bigger Beetle this weekend (I usually am) and cooked up a few comfort suppers for her (with Beetle approved alternates) that went at least a little way towards thawing us out. BECAUSE IT'S REALLY FREAKING COLD OUTSIDE, YOU GUYS. 

COMFORT FOOD

in the form of

BEETLE'S OWN CREAM OF TOMATO SOUP WITH CHEESE TOAST

and PIPARKAKUT

which in Finnish means

PEPPER COOKIES

and which are really

CRAZY STRONG GINGERSNAPS

But first to soup. (Dinner before dessert, you guys, you know the rule.)

Tomato soup and grilled cheese is a standby as old as time for a reason. It's amazing. It's fast, easy, warm, delicious, and can be made with a wide variety of ingredients, depending on what you have in the house. 

CREAM of tomato soup is a more decadent version. It's the more decadent version you need when you've taken a 2 hour walk outside and sadly not put on enough clothes, and you keep desperately hoping that if you walk faster you will warm up, but it never happens, and so what was supposed to be a lovely late afternoon autumnal leaf-gazing stroll with leisured and erudite conversation becomes a speed march of death when your nose runs nonstop, your fingers are icicles, and your face becomes a set grimace of stoicism in the face of holy god walk faster why is it so cold outside omg walk faster. 

When you get home, you SHOULD take a shower to warm up, but the thought of removing your clothes, even to get into hot water, makes you want to die immediately so the only thing left is to turn on the BBC, grab a saucepan, and start throwing things into it, swearing under your breath and whimpering every time to have to reach into the fridge, trying in vain to drown out the deathscream of your toes with Asia Business News.

BEETLE'S SUPER-FAST-BEFORE-WE-FREEZE-TO-DEATH CREAM OF TOMATO SOUP

INGREDIENTS

• 2 tbs olive oil
• 2 1/2 cups diced tomatoes (I kept mine pretty chunky) or 2 cans of same
• 2 tbs tomato paste
• 1/2 cup cream or milk
• 1 cup vegetable broth or water
• lots and  lots of fresh basil
• salt and pepper to taste

In a saucepan, heat the olive oil and the diced tomatoes until they've started to soften and release their juices. Reduce the heat to a simmer and stir in tomato paste, cream or milk, and broth or water, stirring well and letting cook for a few minutes between each one. 

Add more or less liquid depending on how thick you want this to be. I went for thick and chunky, so mine had chunks of roughly diced tomatoes and not a lot of broth. This is peasant cream of tomato soup. It's not a bisque. It's more cream of tomato STEW than anything else I guess. Thick and studded with bits of tomato and basil leaves.

In short, exactly what you want after the above-mentioned afternoon walk.

You can garnish, as I did because sometimes I am a fancypants, with a few sliced grape tomatoes and whole basil leaves.

But who am I to dictate the surface of your soup? 

And of course, served with . . . CHEESE TOAST

I don't want to insult your intelligence too much by giving you a recipe for cheese toast. I feel like if you can work a computer well enough to be reading this right now (and bless you for that!) you can probably handle cheese toast. 

For this, I toasted the last three slices of Beetle's Amazing Farmhouse Bread (name still tbd), topped them with decently thick chunks of cheddar cheese, and stuck them under the broiler for 5 minutes. This frees up the stove so you can finish the soup in peace, and also it makes something a bit lighter than the traditional frying-pan-full-of-butter grilled cheese.

NOT THAT THERE'S ANYTHING WRONG WITH THAT. 

My rationale for the above combination is that if you're already having CREAM of tomato soup, then unless you actually are the Native American girl on the Land O Lakes package in the butter section of the supermarket, you probably want to pull back a bit on the ol' grilled cheese front. 

I mean, if broiled hunks of cheddar on farmhouse bread can be called "pulling it back a bit."

GIMME A BREAK, YOU GUYS, MY BRAIN HAS FROZEN AND ONLY MY HANDS ARE WORKING LET'S MOVE ON TO COOKIES.

PIPARKAKUT

This recipe came from Beatrice (duh) and the cookies are technically called "Suomalaiset Piparkakut" which, THANKS TO MY NEWFOUND FINNISH SKILLS, translates as "Finnish Gingersnaps." This is also helpfully noted on the same page for those of you who are not fluent like me. 

Scandinavians, and Finns especially, like their ginger cookies STRONG AND DARK AND SPICY. This means that when they say "Piparkakut" they literally mean "put pepper in these cookies because it will make them taste good." And you know what? They're right. They really do taste better that way. 

Just BE WARNED that after you've had what I (and other high minded people) consider "proper" gingersnaps, every other bland, pale, waxy cookie that has the audacity to call itself a gingersnap will make you want to fling it against a wall and weep with frustration. 

It's a one way gingersnap culinary street, dear reader. Just prepare yourself. And pack your pepper grinder.

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. 

If this is OUR HOUSE, then "chilling" is the same thing as "leaving in the kitchen because the temperature outside is the same as inside." If you are in a normal house, the fridge is probably best.

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 NOTES

Some people have the Bible.
I have this. 

As you can see from above, at the time of making I did not possess the emotional stability to roll out cookie dough. The best I could do was to shape approximately-similar-sized balls of dough with my hands, and flatten them on the cookie sheet. Scrappy, yes, but also fast and relatively painless. And, apparently, still delicious.

When Christmas comes, I will be a good little Beetle elf and roll them out and make beautiful reindeer and stars and trees, etc. For the time being, Mum is going to have to be happy with vaguely circular discs of varying thickness depending on where the palm of my hand landed, because that's the most I felt up to. Sometimes, dear reader, it's important to recognise your own limitations, even if they are cookie-based.

They don't look THAT bad, do they? 

When Beatrice says "do not overbrown" at the end of her directions. THE COOKIES ARE ALMOST BLACK. You will not know when they are overbrown because the colour does not change. This is a time for the finger-puffness test. Very scientific. Pay attention. 1. Pull the baking sheet out of the oven. 2. Gently poke the top of one of the cookies with your finger. 3. If it feels too soft, stick it back in. 4. It if feels pretty solid, take it out. See? Who needs the Cordon Bleu when you have Beetle wisdom like this? 

Sometimes when I get the "chill dough" instruction I ignore it. Martha, in particular, loves chilling her cookie dough. And I have to admit a lot of the time you can get away with just shaping cookies and shoving them in the oven. THIS IS NOT ONE OF THOSE TIMES. You have to chill this stuff. Even just making random flatish discs of dough, by the time I reached the bottom of the mixing bowl it was getting too sticky to work with (and this is in our frigid meat locker of a kitchen.) I would recommend dividing the dough in half and leaving the rest in the fridge until you're ready for it. Your cookie cutters (or the palms of your hands) will thank you.

I purposely burnt these a little bit because Mum likes burnt cookies. They are crispy and dark and strong, and I think when I actually DO make them properly they will be even better. As was, bobo and oddly shaped, they still came out crunchy and gingery and peppery and perfect for after dinner tea.

Thanks, Beatrice. I love you. 

Or should I say. 

Minä rakastan sinua. 

Birthday Part The Second (Part The Second)

Helloooooo again, dear reader! My initial plan was to post this yesterday, but . . . you know. Stuff.

Stuff like cats getting stuck underneath your bed because they are too . . . um . . . "sturdy" to come out again.

Stuff like not being able to wait for your new drawer pulls to come in the mail and using your dresser anyway, so that getting your clothes in the morning takes about twice as long as normal because you have to scrabble on the edges of the drawers and force them open from underneath.

Stuff like your mother moving from priming the ceiling to priming the front hall, which means all the furniture in the front hall is now in the living room and the library. Which means there is ONE carefully constructed path through the most trafficked section of the house that involves an incredibly heavy Chinese brocade armchair, a slightly broken Victorian wicker dining chair, an oil painting of a pine forest in Finland, and a large tupperware container full of Easter decorations.

Just saying.

UPSIDE-DOWN APPLE GINGER BISCUIT CAKE

Initially I wanted to make a Tarte Tatin. It seemed like such a grown up dessert to make, so pretty, so French, so sophisticated. I decided Saturday morning during spinning, however (where I do my best thinking) that attempting to make a pate brisee from scratch at the same time as rolling out cinnamon buns and carving pumpkin soup bowls was possibly a little too much, even for Beetle, and that I would prefer to be at least vaguely poised upon guest arrival, as opposed to weeping, covered in flour, and hating life.



But what to make? The one rule for Weekend Dessert was IT HAD TO BE APPLE-BASED. It's fall, you guys. IT'S TIME. There was a beautiful bowl of Macintosh, Gala, and Jonagolds sitting on the island in the kitchen, crying out to be smothered in sugar and butter and baked until golden and glossy, and who was I, who was I, dear reader, to deny them that? So. Apples. Sugar and Spice. Pretty. Autumnal. Those were the four criteria.


The solution came, as it normally does, during a hill session. APPLE UPSIDE-DOWN CAKE. Perfection! An Apple Upside-Down Cake would a) still have that gorgeous ring of apple slices round the bottom and b) allow me to maintain a shred of culinary sanity. It also had the added bonus of being a decidedly New England-y dessert. If there's one thing the Pilgrims could do apart from accusing people of witchcraft and/or adultery, it was pour a thick, cinnamon-based biscuit batter over apples.

Epicurious.com had about a billion recipes (you think I'm joking, go look it up) but there was one that stuck out like a sweet snaggletooth: Apple Ginger Upside-Down Cake. And I knew that was the one. Because what's better than a melty-buttery-spicy apple cake?

Oh yes. A melty-buttery-spicy apple cake full of crystallised ginger. Duh.

BEETLE NOTES

This is a very good cake. Not too sweet, not too tart. A perfect fall dessert that combines all the happy of the season in a cake pan. It's also (crucial) fast and easy. Honestly peeling the apples took the most time out of all the tasks. Which, as long as you don't slice your hands to ribbons, really isn't that bad. 

That being said.


THINGS I WILL DO DIFFERENTLY NEXT TIME:

• Overlap the apple slices more tightly. Although you can kind of see the ring of them on the bottom, the biscuit batter squidged its way through and obscured them somewhat. I think if the slices are closer together there will be less batter squidging. 

• Mix the crystallised ginger into the biscuit batter itself. The recipe says to coat the bottom of the pan in melted butter, brown sugar, and ginger before laying out your apple. What they fail to mention, however, is that when you bake crystallised ginger in a cake pan, even if that cake pan is ostensibly "nonstick" the sugar will nuclear-harden to the bottom, and you will spend a long time chipping away at with a knife in imminent danger of cutting your finger off. 
• Serve it with maple whipped cream. I totally meant to do this (sorry everyone!) but in the excitement of seeing people and opening presents and dancing around doing stupid things, it completely slipped my mind. NEXT TIME. 

FYI, I ended up doubling the biscuit batter because the first round I poured over the apples barely coated them. It really doesn't make that much, so be prepared to add more. I also used a springform pan even though it says 9-inch cake pan because it makes inverting it at the end really easy. 

I used Jonagolds for my apples, incidentally, because they are big and therefore easy to core and slice. I'm not an expert on cooking apples and non-cooking apples, but I'm getting better, I promise. I just found a Wikipedia entry that has every. kind. of. species. listed out, with their taste, culinary uses, and country and date of origin. 

So when I don't post  for a month, that's why.


NORWEGIAN CINNAMON BUNS

Q: Is there anything nicer than a warm kitchen that smells simultaneously of coffee and cinnamon buns?

A. Absolutely not.

This is a Nigella recipe, from her Domestic Goddess cookbook. She credits a Norwegian friend for it, which just underscores what I've known since I was born: Scandinavians, man. We KNOW our warming comfort food. This is a) because we're awesome and b) because when it's dark for 6 months of the year, SOMETHING has to get you out of bed in the morning.

These, I feel certain, do the trick.

INGREDIENTS

• 4 cups flour
• 1/3 cup sugar
• 1/2 tsp salt
• scant 3 tbs yeast
• scant 1/2 cup (one stick) butter
• 1 2/3 cups milk
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tbs soft butter
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tbs sugar
• 1 1/2 tsp cinnamon
• 1 egg, beaten, for glaze

Combine the flour, sugar, salt, and yeast in a large bowl. Melt the butter and whisk it into milk and eggs, then stir it into the flour mixture. Mix to combine and then knead the dough either by hand or using the dough hook of a food mixer until its smooth and springy. Form into a ball, place in an oiled bowl, cover with clingfilm and leave it to rise for about 25 minutes.







Take one-third of the dough and roll it or stretch it to fit your tin; this will form the bottom of each bun when it has cooked. Roll out the rest of the dough on a lightly floured surface, aiming to get a rectangle of roughly 10 x 20 inches.

Mix the filling ingredients in a small bowl and then spread the rectangle with the buttery cinnamon mixture. Try to get even coverage on the whole of the dough. Roll it up from the longest side until you have a giant sausage. Cut the roll into 3/4 inch slices which should make about 20 rounds.

Sit the rounds in lines on top of the dough in the tin, swirly cut-side up. Don’t worry if they don’t fit snugly together as they will swell and become puffy when they prove. Brush them with egg and then let them rise again for about 15 minutes to let them get duly puffy.

Put in the hot oven and cook for 20-25 minutes, by which time the buns will have risen and will be golden-brown in colour. Don’t worry if they catch in places. Remove them from the tin and leave to cool slightly on a rack – it’s easy just to pick up the whole sheet of parchment and transfer them like that – before letting people tear them off, to eat warm.

BEETLE NOTES

You mean, Beetle Notes APART from oh my holy hell these are amazing?

Well. Yes.

Be prepared to add more flour to your dough before the initial rising period. I ended up adding between 3/4 and a cup more by hand just to get it out of the mixing bowl. Next time I'll add it at the outset and let my dough hook do the rest.

My blank dough canvas. Ready to become a masterpiece.

The recipe says to take 1/3 of the dough and stretch it out along the bottom of the pan. I did not do this. I rolled out ALL the dough and spread it with cinnamon sugar. I'm sure I'm wrong and Nigella knows best, but it just seemed like a doughy bottom would take away from the cinnamon bun itself, and that mine would end up lumpy and thick in some places and thin in others because I would inevitably mess it up.

Also, I just wrote "doughy bottom" completely un-ironically. SEE? I REALLY AM 30.


I think because of this, and because mine were definitely thicker buns than 3/4 of an inch (see above, what can I say, go big or go home) my cinnamon-sugar to dough ratio was a bit low. That is to say, the buns came out as sweet rolls with cinnamon-sugar as opposed to "cinnamon buns." Which. Not the worst thing in the world. 

I will likely double the filling next time, but according to all who tasted them, if that was all they could eat for the rest of their lives, they would die happy. Fat, but happy. 

These went down like a house on fire. Like a delicious smelling house on fire. 

Since even WE couldn't finish the entire pan in one morning (which is saying something) I will add that these keep really well in a covered pan, and that breaking one (or two. or three.) off and putting it in a low oven for a few minutes gets them all gooey and warm again, ready to be served in a civilised manner. Or, you know, inhaled standing up before the oven door even closes. Your choice. 

And so, dear reader, thus ends BIRTHDAY. Which isn't to say that the rest of this month won't be filled with celebrations (um, Halloween anyone?) and cavorting in leaf piles and carving pumpkins and generally behaving like Sarah Jessica Parker in Hocus Pocus.

Like this:

Hey, at least it will keep me warm.