Rye Cacao Nib Shortbreads (Plus, Don’t Be a Kimono-Wearing Earthworm)

In the “How Not to be an Earthworm” chapter of M.F.K. Fisher’s 1942 book, How to Cook a Wolf, she notes,  “A useful thing to have on your shelf is a supply of gingersnaps or vanilla wafers.”
Fisher was advising on the economical gastronomy of blackout rooms and emergency rations. 

But this struck a cord. The delicate nature of a thin, crisp cookie awards certain pleasures during most un-delicate situations. 

Useful advice.  I have been experiencing some residual effects of a very unromantic breakup and lease break.  Personal unpleasantries. To be clear, nowhere near wartime.  But psychological shrapnel nonetheless. 

I tend to recognize a hovering emotional raincloud when I start reflexive leisurewear shopping.  I am drawn to glorified robes and wide legged pants.  Garments that I will probably try to pass off as “bohemian” on the street.

And so I found solace in Fisher’s plucky chapter on how to make the best of times in the worst of times.  I minded her warning against becoming a metaphorical earthworm.  Took note of her practical cookie employment.  And decided to dial down on the kimonos. 

Thus the protection today comes in the form of a steady supply of wispy shortbreads.  Of which I suggest a healthy therapeutic dose. 

The rounds are fairly mildly flavored, despite any preconceptions about rye.  It brings similar characteristics that whole wheat would, but I’d argue rye is slightly sturdier.  Pleasantly rustic.  

And a fine partner for the cacao nibs, which have lingering whispers of coffee.  All of this is bound by butter and turns toffee-like after a few days.

My advice is to squirrel some away in your freezer.  They get better with age.  I also suggest you listen to Fisher with whatever battles you’re facing.  Cookies or no cookies.  She closes out her chapter by saying:

“Use as many fresh things as you can, always, and then trust to luck and your blackout cupboard and what you have decided, inside yourself, about the dignity of man.”

Rye Cacao Nib Shortbreads

Adapted from Orangette and Alice Medrich

Ingredients:

• 1 cup rye flour
• 1 cup all-purpose (or 1 scant cup whole wheat pastry flour)-see note
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1¾ sticks (14 tbsp) unsalted butter, softened
• ½ cup sugar
• ¼ tsp salt
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 1/3 cup chocolate covered cacao nibs

Instructions:

Sift the two flours and the cinnamon over a medium bowl.  In the bowl of a kitchen stand mixer, beat the butter, sugar, salt, and vanilla until smooth and creamy (but not overly fluffy), about 1 minute.  Scrape down the sides with a spatula and then mix in the cacao nibs.

With the mixer on low, add in the flour and then stir with the spatula until just incorporated.  

Place the mound of dough onto plastic wrap and shape into a 12 x 2-inch log.  Wrap up the log and smooth out any uneven areas so it is fairly uniform in size. Refrigerate 2 hours or overnight.

Set the oven to 350 degrees and line 2 cookie sheets with parchment paper.  Using a sharp knife, cut the cold dough into ¼-inch slices and place about 1½ inches apart.  (You should be able to fit 12 to 15 per sheet.)

Bake 12 to 14 minutes, or until the cookies turn light golden brown at their edges.  (Rotate the pans half away through the cooking.) Leave them to cool for a minute or two and then place them on a wire rack to fully cool.  Repeat with remaining dough.

Makes about 40 cookies

Notes:

1. These get better the longer they sit.  And I’ve found they turn nutty after about a week. (They last brilliantly in the freezer; Molly also mentions they’ll store at room temperature for up to a month, if they actually last that long.)
2. I have made these with all-purpose and whole wheat pastry flour. Both with great results, though the whole grain lent a certain nutty edge.  It won’t be the end of the world if you use a full cup of the whole wheat pastry flour, but slightly less than that will make them less likely to crumble.
    

Dark Winter Rye Boule

The past few days have felt like a week of Mondays, strung together.  I interviewed a worker on Misty Brook Farm on Sunday.  And the co-owner of The Wine Bottega on Tuesday.  Did a lot of writing.  Worked all week, like a regular human.  And cursed at the wind today because it was so cold. 

What I really want right now is for someone to do my dirty dishes and pour me a glass of wine. 
But that someone will have to be me tonight.  So I hope you will forgive me if I am curt.  

This pretty much sums things up: winter rye boule.  Because it is (still) winter.  But also because it is the hardy variety I bought from Misty Brook Farm.  Which they grow and mill themselves.

Some winter rye, a little molasses, hint of cocoa, and a bit of caraway seeds was all it took to transform everyday bread into a dense and lovely loaf to chase out the end of winter.  While many dark ryes rely on caramel coloring to get their hue, this version uses the cocoa and molasses to impart a chocolate tint that deepens as the bread bakes.

The recipe borrows from Jim Lahey’s no-knead method of Sullivan Street Bakery in New York City.  So you can mix it up the ingredients in a bowl on your counter.  And then clean the dishes.  Or do the laundry.  

Or, better yet, open a bottle of red.

Dark Winter Rye Boule

Ingredients:

• 2¼ cups bread flour, plus extra for dusting
• ¾ cup rye flour
• ½ tsp active dry yeast
• 1½ tsp kosher salt
• 1½ cups cold tap water
• 1 tbsp blackstrap molasses
• 1 tbsp plus 2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
• cornmeal, for the bottom of the bread
• 2½ tsp whole caraway seeds, divided

Instructions:

the day before

In a large bowl, combine the flours, yeast, and salt.  (Start this process 15 to 22 hours before you plan to eat the bread.)  Fill a measuring cup (or small bowl) with the water and vigorously whisk the molasses and cocoa into the water until it turns dark brown.  

Add the liquid to the flour mixture and combine the ingredients using a rubber spatula until a sticky dough forms (it will be wetter than standard bread dough), add more water, if needed.

Cover with plastic wrap and let rise 12 to 18 hours in a warm, undisturbed spot.  During this time, the dough will double in size and become puffy.

the day of

To start the second rising of the dough, scatter a handful of cornmeal in the middle of a clean kitchen towel. 

Add 2 teaspoons of caraway seeds to the dough and, with floured hands, take it out of the bowl and gently stretch the dough by tucking the sides of the bread together to meet at the bottom (if it is too sticky to handle, add a little bread flour); continue this process until the seeds are fully incorporated and the top is smooth. 

Shape into a round ball.

Place the dough on the cornmeal, sprinkle the top with the remaining ½ teaspoon of caraway, and cover with the sides of the kitchen towel. Let the dough rest for 1 to 2 hours (until it rises slightly).  

30 minutes before you plan to bake the bread, set the oven at 475 degrees and place a 4 or 5 quart Dutch oven or roasting pan with a tight-fitting lid on the middle rack of your oven.  (Be sure your pan can withstand the high heat and avoid pans with plastic parts.)  Preheating the pan helps the dough expand rapidly to produce a chewy interior and a crispy crust.

After 30 minutes, take the pan from the oven and remove the lid.  Gently place the dough into the pan, cover it with the hot lid, and bake for 30 minutes.  

Uncover the bread and bake for another 15 to 30 minutes, until the top is golden brown and the bottom sounds hollow when tapped.  (If you are unsure, the internal temperature of the bread should be 190 degrees.)

Let cool fully on a wire rack before slicing (1 to 2 hours).

Makes 1 loaf

Notes:

1. I baked this bread in a BreadPot, which I got for Christmas.  Make sure whatever you use can be heated up to 475.
2. You may be able to find Misty Brook at the Somerville Winter Farmers' Market on Saturdays.