Chocolate Sesame Oatmeal Cookies and the Werewolves

There is a scene in Collateral Beauty when Ed Norton’s character is talking to his ailing mother. “The werewolves, they’re meeting out front all hours of the night,” the elderly woman complains.  He replies, “But I got a raccoon friend.  He’s on the task force. He put a bug out there for me by the trash cans.” She seems comforted by this response.

Collateral Beauty is an okay movie.  It deals with tough themes like dementia, divorce, and death mostly by means of gaslighting.  Concepts—like love and time—are played by ideological actors pretending to represent these abstract notions in the flesh.

As things unfold, it becomes easier to believe that death personified might visit dressed in a blue beret and feather boa than swallow the premise. But what I like predominately is the bit about the raccoons conducting surveillance.  It is a nice reminder that reality is not our only means of survival.

Last week, I had minor surgery to remove a melanoma on my leg.  It was caught incredibly early. So early, in fact, that it was awarded a stage of 0. Except this cancerous numerical nil still necessitated that my skin be cut and sewn back together much like you might a Thanksgiving turducken. 

Even the nothingness kind of cancer can be an unwelcomed reminder of the flighty nature of one’s existence.  My coping techniques have tended to involve running on a treadmill until I get chest pain or opening a bottle of red wine.  (Sometimes both, depending on the day.)

Neither maladaptive method was available post surgery. Also, I needed the aid of a cane to walk.  As I hobbled, my anxiety slowly ramped up.  A day later I yelled at Brett for attempting to take a cookie out of the freezer.

At that moment I was unhinged with complete clearness. I reflected on the situation, and a little on my life.  Then apologized and resigned to bake another batch in contrition.

Luckily, the cookies are fairly easy to make and arrive buttery and nutty.  They lean on the side of crispy and, in my opinion, contain the right ratio of chocolate to cookie.  They are at once familiar and also new, thanks to the sesame. 

The original recipe called for halva, as well, but I took it out. For most of us, I think, life is complicated enough without having to hunt down goddamned sweet sesame fudge.  I am sure they would be fabulous with halva.  I love halva. But procuring halva does not need to stand in the way of these cookies.

That said, I do not want to convey this as a stress-free project. I find baking, while exhilarating once it is over, is often an exercise of doubt and self-loathing until the dessert can be verified as worthy of the time you lost making it. Perhaps you do too. If so, this is a task for which you will be rewarded.  Plus the cleanup provides another chance to practice the art of washing dishes, which the Buddhists are always taking about. 

I may need more time at the sink.

This process is yet another way to confront the werewolves. Plus, you will have a full batch of fresh cookies.  And they’re on the task force.

Chocolate Sesame Oatmeal Cookies

Adapted from Yotam Ottolenghi courtesy of The New York Times

Ingredients:

• 1 cup (115 grams) roughly chopped walnut halves
• 1 tablespoon white sesame seeds
• 5½ tablespoons (80 grams) unsalted butter, softened
• ¼ cup (50 grams) packed dark brown muscovado (or brown sugar)
• ½ cup (110 grams) granulated sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• ¼ cup (60 grams) tahini
• ⅓ cup (50 grams) all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• ½ teaspoon baking powder
• ¼ teaspoon kosher salt
• 1½ cups (140 grams) old fashioned rolled oats, pulsed a few times in a food processor
• ½ cup (70 grams) roughly chopped dark chocolate
• 1 teaspoon orange blossom water (optional)

Instructions:

Set the oven to 400 degrees.  On a baking sheet, place the walnuts and sesame seeds and toast them in the oven until they start to smell fragrant and turn golden (5 to 10 minutes). Remove from the heat; set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer, add the butter and sugars and mix with a paddle attachment on medium speed for 2 to 3 minutes, or until light and fluffy.

Add the egg, vanilla, and 1½ tablespoons of water and continue mixing until well combined.  Blend in the tahini, stopping to scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.

In a medium bowl, sift the flour, cinnamon, baking powder, and salt; mix in the oats. Stir in the walnuts and sesame seeds.

Add the dry ingredients to the wet and mix on low speed (or mix by hand using a rubber spatula) until just combined. Toss the chocolate in a dusting of flour and add them to the mix. Stir in the orange blossom water, if using.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.  Form the dough into 1½ to 2-inch balls and place them about 2 inches apart. The balls will be on the loose side and the mixture will look a bit like wet granola.

Bake for 7 minutes and then rotate the pan and bake another 5 to 7 minutes or until the cookies are golden brown at the edges.

Remove from the oven and place the pans on cooling racks for 5 minutes.  Transfer the cookies to the rack to completely cool.

Makes about 15 cookies

Notes:

1. I did not have the orange zest the original recipe called for, so I added orange blossom water.  Did it make them better?  I’m not sure, but it won’t hurt to add if you have it.
2. After lamenting the difficulty of procuring halva, I found this recipe.  It may be worth a try.

Golden Spiced Bread is Sometimes Sexy

I have a friend who says being nauseated is a lot like being pregnant.  You either are or you are not.  There are no halvsies.  If you are feeling ill you will have very primeval thoughts about, say, a monkfish piccata dish you recently made. No one vomits with ambivalence and certainly not about a slippery to the touch fish that is described as having a “muddy brown color, mottled with lighter and darker brown speckles.”

I mention this because my intestines, while they technically work and thank god have not been operated on, are assholes. They have been since I was a teenager.  I am aware admitting this violates the one rule of food writing: you do not talk about innards.  The second rule of food writing: you do not talk about innards.

But this is not Bon Appétit.  So I will tell you that last Thursday night, after eating monkfish and drinking precisely one beer, I spent most of the early morning hours lying in a fetal position on my bathroom floor. Because my digestive tract is a delicate flower, or I likely had some form of food poisoning, or some combination thereof. 

Are you still with me?

The next day the only thing I could stomach—besides some lemon-lime Gatorade—was this cake. It is a very good recipe and I have made about five different versions of it, including one savory edition that included sun-dried tomatoes, which was a grave mistake.

Brett said that the dried nightshade rendition tasted like gingerbread that had taken a wrong turn.  Imagine it is Christmastime and you slice off a piece from a freshly baked loaf, intending to wash it down with some delicious eggnog, but instead of candied ginger or some brandy-soaked currants, you find embedded tomatoes.

It was not completely inedible, per se, but I would not recommend it. I also feel compelled to mention I come from a lineage where it is customary to save leftover tossed salad and eat the soggy vinegar-laden limp greens the next day. Suffice to say tomato gingerbread is not something I ever hope to taste again, and that is saying something.

The version presented today is much better.  It is a recipe I have been experimenting with for awhile, because I have a few gluten-free friends who deserve to eat quick breads like the rest of us.  It is also very low in fermentable carbohydrates called FODMAPs, which research indicates can worsen digestive woes, like the kind you might experience due to post-infectious irritable bowel syndrome. 

It also has a pleasing spongy texture and pretty burnt orange color thanks to the turmeric. Because it is not overly saccharine, you can eat it at any time of day, truly.  Plus it makes a fine first meal after a bout of food poisoning.

The original recipe calls it a “golden savory cake” which sounds very sexy, but is not entirely accurate unless you intend to make the bread for an enemy and add those sun-dried tomatoes. Otherwise, it still trends more sweet than savory, though not enough to label it as a cake and get away with it unscathed. Regardless, it is a very good blueprint.

I recently found it is further enhanced by adding a schmear of frosting, which negates some of my earlier assertions.  The frosting recipe I used comes from Kindred restaurant, where my good friend Justin is employed. Like most everything they seem to make, their cinnamon bun cream cheese frosting is the kind of thing the devil warns you about.

So there you have it.  Not the most seductive of food stories, but an honest one and a damn good recipe.  Plus something that anyone who has ever had food poisoning or a colicky colon can relate too, without ambivalence.

Golden Spiced Bread

Ingredients:

• ⅓ cup (55 grams) plus 1 tablespoon (10 grams) rice flour, divided
• 3 tablespoons (30 grams) potato starch
• 2 tablespoons (15 grams) tapioca flour
• ½ cup (60 grams) buckwheat flour
• ¾ teaspoon kosher salt
• 1 tablespoon (7 grams) ground turmeric
• ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon (or allspice)
• ½ teaspoon ground black pepper
• 1 teaspoon ground coriander
• ¼ teaspoon cayenne pepper (or chili powder)
• 4 large eggs
• ¼ cup (55 grams) maple syrup
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• ½ teaspoon orange blossom water
• 2 tablespoons (20 grams) olive oil
• ¾ cup (170 grams) milk (see notes)
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 1 tablespoon (10 grams) apple cider vinegar
• 2 tablespoons (20 grams) lemon juice
• ⅓ cup (50 grams) pistachios, roughly chopped
• ⅓ cup (50 grams) assorted dried fruit, roughly chopped (see notes)

Instructions:

Set the oven to 350 degrees.

Grease a standard loaf pan (9 x 5-inch) with a neutral oil, like canola oil. Line with a strip of parchment paper over the width of the pan, so that the parchment will hang over the sides a few inches. Grease the parchment with oil.

In a large bowl, sift together ⅓ cup rice flour, potato starch, tapioca, buckwheat, salt, and spices; set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the eggs, maple syrup, vanilla, orange blossom water, and oil; set aside.

In a large measuring cup, add the milk, baking soda, vinegar, and lemon juice; whisk to combine. (It should froth.)

Pour the wet ingredients (both the egg and the milk mixture) into the dry ingredients and whisk just long enough until everything melds together and the liquid becomes the consistency of pancake batter.

Pour the batter into your prepared loaf pan and bake for 40 to 50 minutes or until golden brown.  The loaf is done when the top is firm and springs back when touched (because you are using gluten-free flour a toothpick is not a reliable indicator of doneness).

Makes one loaf (enough for about 6 thick slices)

Notes:

1. Any milk (almond, lactaid, whole cow’s milk) could be used here.
2. My favorite version so far has involved dried mixed berries (blueberries, strawberries, etc.) as the fruit of choice, but dried cranberries are also very nice.
3. The original recipe uses almond flour instead of buckwheat, but almonds are higher in the type of carbohydrate that can cause digestive issues.  This is also true of the pistachios, so swap them for walnuts or pecans if you have a sensitive digestive system.
4. I realize this is a long list of ingredients, but it ensures that you end up with a bread that no one can tell is gluten-free. (Feel free to leave off orange blossom water if you do not have it.)

Soup Trumps Hate (Spicy Lamb Soup with Whole Wheat Dumplings)

Don’t listen to what people say, watch what they do.  My mother—a Republican, teacher, and badass lady told me that.

This election has been brutal and America needs a hug.  It is clear many Americans were hurting and took their anger into the voting booths.  They heard someone say we need to fix Washington, attack Wall Street, protect the working class, make America great again.

It sounded good.

But I am making therapeutic rebuttal.  I am tossing in some documented facts.  Then I am making soup.

Trump has threatened our First Amendment.  Remember that one?  The one that protects freedom of the press?  Defends freedom of religion? Safeguards freedom of speech?  Anyone? 

He has called for a ban on Muslims entering the country and a relaxation of libel laws that help the press safely do their job.  (Trump has sued, and lost, on similar libel suits in the past.)  It is questionable whether he could actually get such laws passed as president.  But it is still scary.

He has bullied throughout his campaign—calling people dummies, dopes, losers, grubby, stupid, and boring.  In fact, there is a list of over 280 people, places, and things he has insulted ranging from Fox News to a podium in the Oval Office to Samuel L. Jackson. (He did not like the actor’s golf swing—“not athletic” enough for the fast food-eating golf course owner.)

He has vowed to decrease the Environmental Protection Agency (proposed by Nixon) and dismantle laws intended to ensure clean water and air.  He wants to give more regulatory power to the states, because it worked so well in Flint, Michigan, presumably.

Yet, he has already started to include the special interests he campaigned against into his White House transition team.  Lobbyists from the oil and gas industry.  Economists from Wall Street—remember Bear Stearns?

He has threatened the foundation on which our country was built. He has said things you would scold your seven-year-old from repeating.  He has bragged about sexually assaulting women. He does not represent the workingman.

He was given a million dollars from his father to help start his empire and admits this, but records from the eighties show additional loans from him totaling 14 million.  Then again, he also managed to go bankrupt and not pay his taxes—which should raise eyebrows.  A self-touted entrepreneurial billionaire who has not given back to his country and now vows to make it great again? This is the stuff snake oil is made of.

But, like it or not, he will be our president. So what can we do?

As Garrison Keillor advises, we liberals can go drink craft beers, grow heirloom tomatoes, and meditate. That all sounds pretty good.

But we can also try to smile more walking down the street. Hold elevator doors open. Bake cookies for neighbors. Be better role models.  Continue to read newspapers. We can support local businesses. We can increase our NPR donations. We can make soup.

The soup I am discussing today comes from watching an ex-boyfriend—a hunter and The New York Times reader—make a soup he learned from some Buddhists he once cooked with on the Cape. I hope I am remembering the story correctly. I never really understood why Buddhists would include a pound of ruminant flesh in their recipe, but, if I am being honest, I think the addition is important.

The soup is spicy and flavorful—owing its depth, in part, to an aromatic dose of garlic, ginger, and hot pepper.  The mushrooms are just as important as the meat.  Plus the homemade whole wheat pasta dumplings are laid-back in preparation and therapeutic to make in times like these.  It has remained one of my favorite recipes, despite its peculiar origins. And it seems particularly consequential to share a few days after an election that has deeply divided the country.

We cannot change that we elected a con man.  But as Bill Maher said Friday night, in reference to the half of the country that did not support Trump, “we’re still here.”

And we are bringing soup.

Spicy Lamb Soup with Whole Wheat Dumplings

Ingredients:

• 2 to 4 tbsp olive oil
• salt, throughout the cooking process
• 1 pound stew meat (I prefer lamb), cut into 1-inch chunks
• 1 onion, diced
• thumb-sized piece of fresh ginger, peeled and minced
• 3 garlic cloves, minced
• 1 habanero, minced (see notes)
• 8 to 10 cremini mushrooms, sliced
• 1 large tomato, diced
• 1 to 2 cups peeled and chopped daikon (about 1 large)
• 1 bunch bok choy, stems and leaves, diced
• ¾ cup whole wheat or spelt flour
• ½ bunch (about 2 handfuls) fresh greens (e.g. baby spinach or kale, arugula, escarole)

Instructions:

Heat a large dutch oven (or sauce pot with a lid) on medium high heat, add a few generous glugs of olive oil. Salt and add the stew meat and let sit for a few minutes without disturbing it (like you are searing it). Once the meat has a nice brown crust on the underside, stir it briefly and cook another minute or so; take it out of the pan and place in a small bowl.

To the pot, add the onion and cook about two minutes or until it starts to soften; add the ginger, garlic, and pepper, season with salt, and cook until softened (another minute or two).  Add the mushrooms and cook a minute more; add the tomato and stir.

Add nine cups of water and the meat, plus any juices left in the bowl.  Season again with salt and cook on medium to medium high heat. When the liquid starts to simmer, add the daikon.  When it comes to rolling boil, add the bok choy; reduce the heat to a simmer and cover mostly with a lid (leave a little space to let some steam escape); cook for about 45 minutes .

After letting the soup cook, in a small bowl combine the flour with a small amount of water (add about a tablespoon or two at a time).  You want just enough water to form a stiff, somewhat dry pasta dumpling dough (it should be the texture of dry silly putty). Knead the dough with your hands like you would Play-Doh to help it come together; ultimately, it should hold together and not crumble.

Pinch off a piece of dough a little smaller than a golf ball and roll the piece into a log about ½ inch thick.  Then pinch off a piece of the log about the size of a fingernail.  Place the piece on the palm of your hand and press down and away from you and slightly up, so it spreads and curls into a shell shape.  Do this over the soup and let the piece fall directly into the cooking pot.  Proceed shaping the dough in this manner moving down the log as you go.  Repeat with the remaining dough.  (Throughout the process the soup should remain at a low simmer.)

Once all the dough is in the pot, simmer uncovered for 45 minutes more or until the pasta is fully cooked (it will expand), the meat softens, and the broth turns rich in color.  (You may need to turn the heat up a bit if it seems to be taking too long.)

In the soup’s final moments, toss in the greens to wilt them (though if I have escarole I like to add it a bit sooner). Taste and aggressively season.

Makes about 4 quarts

Notes:

1. A hallmark of this stew is its spiciness, but you can tone it down by switching to a serrano pepper and removing its seeds.
2. Aggressively season throughout the cooking process and again at the end.  (It will taste like dishwater unless you add enough salt.)
3. You can fish the meat out at the end, shred it into little pieces, and then return it to the soup, but I am usually lazy when it comes to this sort of thing.