Gingerbread Cake

This is the cake that very nearly saved my life. Not changed my life, saved my life.

I have a very bad habit of waking in the middle of the night and snacking. I totally blame the tiny bladder I was blessed with, it wakes me and I'm left with nothing to do but snack before I try and get back to sleep. One April morning I awoke and tried to talk myself out of the extra ten steps to the kitchen for a piece of leftover gingerbread cake. I have no will power when fully awake, let alone at 3 am.

There I found myself, a piece of cake in hand and staring out the window when I noticed an orange glow. It took a few seconds to register that the glow wasn't actually supposed to be there. And a few seconds longer to realize that the glow meant fire.

Hubby's car was parked behind our garage on a parking pad. The car was the 1975 Triumph TR6 he bought a decade before. For years it had been in need to repair. In our garage sat the engine and an extra transmission. We'd moved 6 months earlier and he borrowed a flat bed to transport it all 3 hours down the highway. He knew exactly what he was going to do to the fix that car.

Having it lit on fire wasn't part of the plan.

In that eventual moment when I realized the car was on fire I screamed for him. He came running out, yelling at me to pick up the phone and call 911, then raced outside to grab the fire extinguisher from our daily driver in the garage. The garage two feet away from the burning car. I'm freaking out while the 911 operator is quite calmly and kindly reminding me that cars blow up and perhaps we should not be standing in front of the windows, let alone trying to put it out ourselves. That's when Hubby reminds me that there is no engine in the car and the gas tank would be empty. I'm obviously not very smart when faced with fire.

Fire trucks come and with very little ceremony the flames are doused in just minutes. The facts all point to someone having thrown accelerant on the hood of the car and tossing a match. By the time I'd discovered the fire there wasn't much left.

The garage was also hot and had to be hosed down on one side, siding eventually replaced. If the garage had gone up we would have lost our other car, the one with a full tank of gas, and who knows what else. As sad as Hubby was at losing his car, we were thankful that that was all we lost.

We came in the house as the sun was coming up and cracked a beer, a bit charred ourselves. When I went to put the bottles away I noticed the cake. One piece of cake fallen on the counter, with a single bite taken.

Peterson Gingerbread Cake

This is the recipe of my sister-in-law's mother. Their family likes it with Bird's Custard Sauce or even cream cheese icing. I'm partial to it with some maple butter. It is moist and heady with gingerbread.

1/2 cup shortening (I use butter)

2/3 cup brown sugar

1 egg

1 cup molasses

2 1/2 cups flour

1/2 tsp salt

1 1/2 tsp baking soda

1 tsp ground ginger

1 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp cloves

1 cup hot (not boiling) water

1. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8'' by 8'' baking pan.

2. Cream shortening/butter. Gradually add the sugar, then the egg. Beat until light and fluffy. Add the molasses.

3. In a medium bowl whisk together the dry ingredients. Add to the batter, 1/2 cup at a time, alternating with 1/4 cup water. Beat until smooth after each addition. Pour into pan.

4. Bake for 45-50 minutes, or until a tester comes out clean.

1 cup molasses

Love = Chocolate Chip Cookies

For the record, a chocolate chip cookie is not just a chocolate chip cookie. Put aside the preferences for chewy or chunky, nuts or pure, cocoa or not. A chocolate chip cookie at its most basic is pretty much love.

Growing up they are the special treat doled out by Mom, whether she made them or not. Our first forays into adulthood are filled with Mom's replacements where we can get them on the occasion of loneliness, break-ups, girls' nights, and stress. When we get our own kitchen we bake them for our boyfriends and girlfriends and friends to give them comfort and happiness and a morsel of love wrapped in chocolate in butter. Then we have kids and we start the cycle all over, baking together and for them to pass on the love.

No one ever answers cinnamon pinwheel when asked what kind of cookies we should bake.

When the controversy over this post, by a pastry chef no less, blew up on my Twitter Feed all I could think about was chocolate chip cookies. It seems other felt the same way too. Check out this post from Abby Dodge, one from Gail at One Tough Cookie, and another one from Jennifer Perillo.

For days all I thought about were chocolate chip cookies. But Mama's had a bit too much love lately, if you know what I mean. Then Jennie responded and I couldn't not make cookies. And if you're going to to do it, then do it with this recipe and do it a few times.

I've been meaning to test out this concept of letting cookie dough rest since the original New York Times piece came out. Frankly though, there is never a world where I can make cookie dough and not bake it right away. Mama needs her love, as do little girls who helped make the cookies and fully expect one RIGHT NOW.

So, I planned a little experiment. One night, after the girls were asleep, I made the cookie dough, using this recipe from Jennifer Perillo. By far it is the best recipe I've ever made and she's happily letting me share it here.

All but two chunks went into the fridge for their little rest. Seriously, who can make dough and not eat a cookie? Waiting is the hardest part of baking chocolate chip cookies. I baked off two chunks for a late night snack.

Those two cookies, however, were not going to be enough to let me know the difference between a fresh dough and one that has rested for 36 hours. But they were tasty! That meant another bowl of dough was made. I used the exact same recipe and made them the exact same way. The only difference is that I had a 2 year old helping me the second time.

While The Monster was at preschool we baked trays and trays of cookies. I was worried about telling them apart, but it turns out that isn't a problem. The rested dough gets more golden in the oven and doesn't spread as much as the fresh dough. Difference #1.

Now I certainly don't need 6 dozen chocolate chip cookies in my house. We took most of the cookies to the playground for an after school treat, and an experiment. I walked around to all the parents and the teacher, asking them to try one of each cookie. I wanted to see if they could taste a difference and if so, which one they preferred. (The kids got some too, but they didn't care at all which bag they came from.)

The first surprise to me was that everyone could tell a difference between the two cookies, by taste alone. It was a subtle difference to me when the cookies were warm, at home. At the park, however, the difference was more pronounced. The fresh dough cookies taste sweeter. Difference #2.

People were trying to guess the difference and the guesses ran from the addition to honey or more sugar to potentially more butter in the freshly baked dough. The people who preferred these ones all thought they tasted more rich.

The people who preferred the rested dough cookies, however, often called them more decadent or gourmet. Personally, I found the difference was the cloying sweetness and that the fresh dough was almost a bit acidic, tasting it at the back of my tongue more than anything. The flavour, overall, of the rested dough is more sophisticated and frankly, mature. Difference #3.

What makes them technically different? Resting allows the liquids in the dough to be better absorbed. This results in a drier, firmer dough that bakes better. Hence, less puddling in the rested dough cookies. And a better texture overall when you bake the cookies to a precise just underbaked. It also encouraged better caramelization of the dough.

The remaining dough in my fridge (from both batches) was baked off the next day, topped with a sprinkling of fleur de sel. By far, my favourite version.

It's winter here now, I'm single parenting again, and I already have dough resting in the fridge for some post school and snow romp love.

Jennifer Perillo's Very Best Chocolate Chip Cookies

Makes 36 3 inch cookes (or 4 dozen slightly smaller ones)*

4 cups flour (18 ounces)

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp salt

2 sticks butter, softened (8 ounces butter) (1 cup)

2 cups sugar (15 ounces)

2 tbsp molasses

3 large eggs, room temperature

1 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract

12 ounces bittersweet chocolate discs (or chocolate chips)

In large bowl whisk together the flour, baking soda and salt. Beat butter, sugar and molasses until light and fluffy. Add the eggs and vanilla extract. Beat until well mixed. Add the flour mixture and mix until just combined. Stir in the chocolate discs (chips). Let sit in the refrigerator overnight before baking, and may be stored this way for up to two days. Yes, I realize this is the very hard part.

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line baking sheets with silicon mats or parchment paper. Gently form dough into 1 1/2 to 2 inch (1 to 1 1/2 inch) balls and place 2 to 3 inches apart on prepared baking sheet. Bake for 15 minutes (13 minutes in my oven) on middle rack. Remove from oven and let cool on pan for 2 more minutes. Transfer cookies to a rack to cool completely if you have any will power left.

*The notes in italics are my personal changes due to ingredients on hand, preferences, and my oven.

For an Audience

Love stories are as varied as the people that make them. We didn't have farts at our engagement, but there was a fair amount of bird poop. Hubby proposed on an outcropping of rocks on the Ingonish beach. What's a few dead crab shells and a pound of poop to commitment?

I've spent the last few days devouring Gluten Free Girl and The Chef. More than a cookbook, it reads like a romance novel, minus the bad hair, pecs, and euphemisms. The subtitle does refer to the love story, and it is. A love story between two people, a love story of food and cooking. It is captivating, very funny, and full of the romance we all need in life. Even if you don't cook you want to read this book. Ask my girls, they've been flipping the page exclaiming YUMMY! at every turn.

Hubby has been home for 2 days now. That's 2 days of not working, a first for the last 6 weeks. This means he's exhausted and cranky. I'm bursting with the desire to talk about home renos, preschool gossip, and bedtime routines. Oh, and trying not to run screaming from the house to take a break. What we are doing is retreating, sleeping, and trying to find a little bit of rhythm again. Until he leaves again in another day.

One thing I've realized that with cooking for just me and the girls is that I really, really like cooking for my husband. He's an eater, not a cook. He's my audience.

When I can fill his belly with a warm meal that he didn't have to get from a crappy, small town restaurant I feel great. It isn't about being a good wife, I've already got that down. Food is love and I am totally guilty of showing my love with food.

Inspired by Shauna James Ahern and Daniel Ahern I decided to spend the weekend in the kitchen. Bolognese and cookies yesterday. Sunday, a Braised Pork Stew with Cabbage and Caraway from the book. I followed the recipe exactly this time - not something I do often - thus I'm not comfortable sharing it here. We were all filled with love, or just some lovely herbal, mustardy, and nourishing comfort.

If you want the fart reference and the recipe, then you best buy the book.

More Pyrohy

Pyrohy, I've decided, are a perfect Sunday dinner. The main reason for this is because Sunday morning many of us think to make bacon. Then we are too lazy to do the dishes before the birthday parties and errands so that pan with bacon grease is still sitting on the stove when the pyrohy are ready. And that pan is begging to be reheated and filled with just-boiled pyrohy for dinner. Yeah, Sunday.

Of course, I had to make the pyrohy first. Thankfully today I had company and a really well-timed nap from the girls. Andree and Gwendolyn came over for a little, old fashioned pyrohy bee. Well, really, I got the games started by making the dough then put them to work making pyrohy. And they were stellar for their first time ever!

We stuck with traditional fillings of mashed potato with cheese and bacon, plain mashed potato, and sauerkraut. Potatoes from our CSA and sauerkraut courtesy of my parent's suburban kitchen. I prepped it all this morning. And taking a cue from the lady's at my parent's church - home of a ridiculously large bimonthly pyrohy supper - we scooped and rolled our mashed potatoes ahead of time. Makes for faster and easier folding of the pyrohy.

(See the play by play here.)

Andree said that my babbling and instructions was like watching a cooking show. Minus the couch and red wine! I was a little chatty with pyrohy stories, who knew I had so much to say? Of course, that may have more to due with being surrounded by the kids for weeks now with little adult company than my extensive knowledge of pyrohy.

Did I mention the single parenting? That would also be why I needed pyrohy for dinner, with kale on the side, roasted carrots, kubasa, and the cookies both Gwendolyn and Andree brought us (chocolate chip with bacon and shortbread). And now I shall sit on the couch and drink my wine, with or without a cooking show.