The Cooking Critic

When Adam told me about the local Atwater Village Cookie Contest, I thought, Cookies? I know cookies. And yes, I do know cookies, but clearly I don’t know people since the cookies I made were deemed by one judge, and I quote: “Definitely not the best cookie overall.” Sigh. My cookies are so misunderstood.

For this contest, I picked a family cookie recipe that I have tentatively named Citrus Clouds–I’ve never seen these cookies elsewhere before, not the grocery store or the cookie stand or in someone else’s repertoire. This is why I decided to enter them in a contest. When I told a friend I was making Citrus Clouds, he said, You don’t expect to win with those, do you? My response, Why, because there’s no chocolate in them? Him: Exactly. But I thought originality was key (I have since realized, it is not), so I stuck with my plan.

The day of the contest, I hastily made the cookies, which are intended to be iced, but instead I thinned out the icing to a glaze and dunked the cookies in it head first. I didn’t bother with finishing touches, no zest curls, no sprigs of thyme. So basically, I completely ignored the “best-looking” component of the competition, even though I know better—people prefer their cookies to be good-looking. Basically, I’m a bad mother to Citrus Cloud (she sounds like she’s related to the Phoenix family: Joaquin Phoenix, Summer Phoenix, River Phoenix, Rain Phoenix, Citrus Cloud Phoenix). The judges might have taken note of her if I had dressed her up in a decent coat of icing—it’s the equivalent of hip clothing. Instead, I send her out in the world in a sheer coat of barely discernable glaze. I just hope she doesn’t grow up and write a book about me….

At least I had the foresight to rename the cookie, referred to as Orange Cookies in my family (though even the renamed name keeps changing, from Citrus Clouds, to Citrus Pillows, to Airy Citrus Cookies—preferences, anyone?) The name change occurred because I’ve discovered that many people think they don’t like orange desserts—I use the word citrus to trick them because then they assume the cookies are lemon-flavored and generally don’t seem to notice the lack of lemon when they taste them. The orange juice in the batter gives just the faintest sweet citrus hint to the cookies, and everybody likes that, whether they know it or not.

So I didn’t win the cookie contest. Instead a peanut butter thumbprint cookie won with a Hershey Kiss pressed into it (why are people such chocolate freaks?), and sadly, the girl who won wasn’t even prancing around in a bikini, so I can’t complain about that.

Still, I beseech you to try these cookies despite their loser status. Think of the cookie contest as a popularity contest where the cutest girl won. My cookie is delicate and unassuming with a light, cakey texture similar to a madeleine. Citrus Cloud is a wallflower who could be hot if she were just a little more socially inclined, and really, we’re lucky she’s not all-out awkward due to her goofy, inept mother.

Vote for Citrus Cloud!

I had already started a story in my head about how I called multiple grocery stores in the Los Angeles area asking about red velvet cake mixes, no one knew what I was talking about, and isn’t that strange? But as it turns out, red velvet cake, a mild chocolate cake dyed red and typically served with cream cheese frosting, is a Southern phenomenon, which baffles me since it’s not as if red food coloring and chocolate cake are indigenous to the South. And while I couldn’t find any reason why Southerners are partial to the cake, I did figure out how it came to be: the term “red velvet cake” comes from the fact that the cocoa used in the 30s-40s (or thereabouts as far as I can tell) made the cake reddish-brown. Modern cocoa has more alkaline in it and no longer produces this color, so red dye is added to achieve the hue instead. (Thank you Wikepedia.)

But I doubt my brother cared about the historical and cultural relevance of the red velvet cake when he requested it every year for his birthday growing up. Today he turns 28. I was going to use red velvet cake mix to make some cakey cookies (I’ve done this before with lemon cake mix), and ship them to him. But since California doesn’t carry red velvet cake mix, he got Heath Bar Chocolate Chip Cookies instead, mainly because I’ve been wanting to try them.

Still, I did have Michael in mind. I called Mom and Dad and quizzed them on Michael’s favorite flavors. Their response, “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe peanut butter?” When I think about it, I realize Michael doesn’t voice his opinion on foods so often. I believe he likes a balsamic vinegar linguine with bacon and goat cheese that I make, but besides that and red velvet cake, nothing else comes to mind. His main concern when we made food in our family was the ease in making it and the ease in cleaning it up. In fact, when we were pre-teens and assigned to make a meal once a week, I’d go about making homemade breadsticks and strawberry chicken. When Michael cooked, he made something along the lines of hot dogs and macaroni and cheese. His specialty was baked chicken fingers well-seasoned and doused in butter. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t enjoy them.

But back to the glories of toffee. The reason cookies with toffee candy appeal to me (and hopefully my brother) is because my family went on a toffee bar craze when we first discovered Skors. I’ve always preferred the Skor to the Heath bar, which is why I used it in this recipe despite the fact the recipe is called “Heath Bar Chocolate Chip Cookies.” Perhaps I like Skor simply because I met it first, and it introduced me to the world of toffee. But I’ve always thought it tasted better too, and I felt vindicated when an examination of the ingredients of the two candy bars revealed Heath had more unpronounceable ingredients than Skor. It also revealed both candy bars are made by Hershey, which I thought was very strange.

I suspected Michael must have the same fondness for the Skor bar that I do since we grew up in the same Skor-obsessed household, so I decided these cookies would be up his alley. And here’s a picture of my brother pretending he can operate machinery. He’s got a bit of a Burt Reynolds thing going on these days.

Happy birthday, Bear!

Assessment (of the cookies, not my brother): When I first tasted a warm Skor Bar Chocolate Chip Cookie, I determined they’re better in theory than in actuality. The toffee distracted rather than added to what is primarily a chocolate chip cookie with oatmeal and walnuts mixed in. But I adjusted my opinion when I tried the cookies cold. The toffee added something more when the Skor bits solidified into a buttery crunch rather than when they were sticky and oozy. So my final verdict is: if you’re bringing cookies somewhere with you, than try out these chewy Skor cookies (an adjustment involving 3/4 cup butter and ¼ cup shortening might have helped the texture of this cookie). But if you’re mixing up a batch to eat out of the oven, stick to the tried and true regular old chocolate chip cookie—they’re hard to beat.

I’m a little embarrassed to admit this, but I, um, don’t like white chocolate that much. I realize to like white chocolate is to be a full-fledged adult, but I’m just not that mature. I comfort myself with the knowledge that white chocolate isn’t real chocolate at all. While this may seem like a slanderous unfounded attack aimed to hurt white chocolate’s unblemished reputation, it is, in fact, true. According to Food Lover’s Companion, white chocolate “can’t be officially classified as ‘chocolate’ because there is no chocolate liquor in it.”

Not that my stance towards white chocolate is at all consistent. When I’m at the mall, I will sometimes find myself walking in a trance toward the cookie stand and purchasing a white chocolate and macadamia nut cookie, though white chocolate and macadamia nuts are not foods I’m normally drawn to on their own. I even made and enjoyed a White Chocolate Ganache not too long ago. But when I baked some White Chocolate Cranberry Cookies a while back, as much as I loved the cookie and as much as I loved the cranberries, I found myself distracted by the sweet white chocolate and determined next time I’d make the cookies with something more semi-sweet in nature. And so I did.

Assessment: Um, so, uh, my version wasn’t better. I envisioned a cookie packed full of something resembling Raisinets (one of my favorite candies)—a Craisinet Cookie, if you will. And though it was good and all, the crowd generally preferred either the regular chocolate chip cookies I also made or the white chocolate and cranberry ones from before. Either Adam are Marri said (or perhaps they jointly concluded) that the white chocolate highlighted the cranberries more since there was such a contrast in taste while the semi-sweet chocolate hid the cranberries a bit. So stick to the original recipe posted in From the Pantry—it’s a crowd-pleaser, and you’re likely to find some good Indian and vegetarian recipes while you’re there as well.

Sooner or later, people begin to expect baked goods of me. My monthly poker game started about a year ago with no such expectations, but some brownies there, a strawberry lemon curd pie here, and suddenly my reputation is sealed, one that has followed me around nearly my entire life. If I show up without food, people are disappointed. And I hate to disappoint.

Since there have been no brownies present at the last few poker games, a fact the guys like to remind me of often, I decided to make the fudgiest brownies known to man in order to make it up to them. Mission accomplished.

Adjustments: I don’t have the 11×13-inch baking pan called for, so I used my 11×9 one and a muffin tin for the extra brownie mixture. Still, it was hard to guess how much of the mixture should go in the pan and how much in the muffin tin. I guessed as best as I could, but when the 30 minutes cooking time was up, I added on 10 more since the brownies were still slightly wobbly in the center. Eventually, the brownies set, but I could never get the toothpick to come out clean–my mother had the same experience with these. That’s just the way things go sometimes when baking super fudgey foods. Still, what I call “fudgey,” others may call “undercooked.”

Assessment: When I made Raspberry Brownies before, Dave Crocco dubbed them the best brownies he’s ever tasted. As far as I know, he doesn’t go around saying that about every brownie he encounters. But they aren’t for the lily-livered—they’re more of a cross between a brownie and a piece of fudge, so be prepared for the dense chocolate intake you’re about to experience when tasting these. A layer of tart raspberry jam helps cut the chocolateness.

Nothing says summer like watching old films in a cemetery; at least that’s how the saying goes here in Los Angeles. For the uninitiated, this could seem bizarre or morbid, but really it’s just good old-fashioned fun among tombstones. Nothing creepy about it.

Hollywood Forever Cemetery, a beautiful old cemetery where many a Hollywood star is interred, has officially opened its doors for Saturday night outdoor movie screenings hosted by Cinespia, and my friends and I were some of the many people charging the gates at 6:30 in an attempt to get a prime spot. Here, people picnic, watch old movies and sit in an open grassy area a safe distance from any tombstones. This particular Saturday, we watched The Maltese Falcon, drank fine Claret and cheap Cabernet Sauvignon, ate cheese, strawberries, grapes, snow peas, salami, Trader Joe’s Mango Fandango fruit salad, Lavash Wraps with Hummus and Honey-Roasted Turkey, Cranberry White Chocolate Cookies, and Broiled Coconut Cupcakes (but not mine—I’m on a cupcake hiatus.)

While I love potluck picnics and their snacking tapas quality, sometimes all the little bits of food don’t feel like they add up to a substantial whole. I thought I’d try to avoid that this time with the lavash wraps, which the group gobbled up. The wraps were no trouble at all to make and very portable—a perfect picnic food.

White Chocolate Cranberry Cookies from From the Pantry were a tasty twist on the traditional Chocolate Chip Cookie. While I would certainly make these again if my kitchen housed white chocolate chips (a rarity) and dried cranberries (a staple), I have to say I’m a bit of a purist when it comes to the chocolate chip cookie—I prefer my chocolate leaning toward the dark and bitter side as opposed to light and sweet. Brandon can attest to this since when I visit his place, the Hershey’s Dark Chocolate Miniatures disappear, and I leave in my wake a mass of untouched Mr. Goodbars, Krackels and Hershey’s Milk Chocolate.

Here is my photograph of White Chocolate Cranberry Cookies. I like to call this image “Late Afternoon Light on Freshly Baked Cookies.” I’d like to call it that, and so I shall.

I think bananas become overripe out of spite. They’re only good for a couple days, and then you have to figure out what to do with them now. I usually freeze them and make banana smoothies, but my blender is on the blink (nothing works in my house!), so I had to find something else to do with my overripe bananas. Banana-Oatmeal Power Cookies showed me the light.

What I especially like about these cookies is you can trick yourself into thinking you’re eating something healthy. In the cookbook, they even suggest you take them on a hike. If that doesn’t imply healthiness, I don’t know what does.

Adjustments: I’ve made them just as the recipe tells me to, and they are delicious that way, but I made some adjustments this time because I didn’t have all the ingredients in my pantry. Instructions to include unsalted butter are flat-out ignored nearly every time. I know it’s fresher and less salty, but lightly salted butter is a permanent fixture in my house, so I generally go with what I have. Coconut got omitted, walnuts became pecans, dried apricots or raisins were dried cranberries. I might prefer that last substitution and permanently replace raisins with cranberries for these cookies and every other food always. Dried cranberries are tart and wonderful. Raisins are sugary and terrible. Everybody knows it.

Assessment: I usually don’t like my cookies chock full of stuff, but I like these. Everyone likes these. They’re sort of like a chewy, more interesting banana bread if banana bread decided to turn itself into a cookie.

I don’t know who Carol Harper is, but she happens to makes a darn good cookie. Being valentine-less this year, I joined a group of girls for a rollicking evening of flirtinis (a champagne, pineapple juice concoction), hors d’oeuvres and Pop Culture Trivial Pursuit. The police showed up too. Yes, we got busted for playing Trivial Pursuit loudly. It was pretty awesome.

What I like about Carol Harper’s Valentine Cookies, besides the long name, is that they don’t add on extra hours to the process by requiring refrigeration, like most sugar cookies. Especially helpful when you decide two hours before a party you want to contribute Valentine-themed baked goods. And really, who needs men when you have iced cookies?

Adjustments: I didn’t have red food coloring and neither did the corner market down the street, but they did have red sprinkles for some reason. So that helped make the cookies appropriately festive. And everybody loves sprinkles.

Assessment: I really like these. Everyone else seemed to as well. They aren’t true sugar cookies—they’re more fluffy and delicate—and butter cream icing is always wonderful.

Butterscotch is one of the best flavors God put on this earth–created on the fifth day, I think. I do like caramel a bit more (only because my mom makes the best caramels EVER) but butterscotch is similar enough to produce roughly the same reaction in me, which is: gimme gimme gimme.

So this post had me wondering how butterscotch got its name, and my guess was that actual scotch was used in it at one time. This seemed logical too since those butterscotch hard candies in the yellow cellophane always tasted vaguely alcoholic. But my super-thorough, ten-minute Web search produced the much lamer explanation that probably butterscotch was made originally in Scotland (where scotch is also made, coincidence?), and the name most likely came from the location.

This recipe is one my family members turn to whenever we want something sweet quick. No, store-bought cookies won’t do. And I’m not sure where the recipe came from originally, but we credit my Great-Great Aunt Avis, who, like me, did most of her cooking with the aid of cookbooks. I’ve brought these Butterscotch Brownies to the Hollywood Forever Cemetery’s Movies Under the Stars, and people acted as if they were something really special. They’re so easy that it never occurred to me this was possible. But now that I think about it, easy and wonderful is a pretty special combination.

Someday I’ll make them with scotch mixed in.

Adjustments/Assessments: I can’t adjust and assess an ancient family recipe. Just try them. They’ve never let me down.

So my day started off by making Chocolate Whopper cookies (doesn’t everybody’s?) to give to Karen Schiler and her boyfriend Steve who kindly picked me up from the airport in the pouring rain, flooded interstates be damned! I don’t have a double boiler, so I used my regular makeshift one. Someday I’ll get a real honest-to-God double boiler . . . . one can only dream. That Valrhona chocolate recommended is really amazing stuff. I’m pretty sure it’s one of the reasons why the cookies were so good (but also super rich–they may not be for everyone.)Adjustments: Couldn’t find espresso powder or regular instant coffee (Ralph’s was a huge pain yesterday), so I used Vienna-style coffee powder, though the promise of a hint of cinnamon flavor made me nervous, but those hints went undetected in the final product, happily. Used the nuts I had in the house: about one and a half cup mixture of walnuts and pecans instead of the two cups the recipe calls for–I liked the reduced-nut version. There’s a typo in the recipe that appears in the book, which claims the mixture made 1 dozen cookies when it made double, but it’s been fixed on the linked website.

Assessment: Great for the chocolate lover and special enough to present as a gift. Also the perfect portable dessert for a picnic-type outing involving a bottle of red wine. I may very well bring these to my next Hollywood Bowl stint.