I think you'd have to agree that a homemade chocolate sandwich cookie does say "I love you". I mean, making this cookie - while there is no question that it tastes infinitely better than a store-bought sandwich cookie - does not save you a single cent. What it does buy you, though, is the respect and admiration of your significant other, closest friends, or family. Notwithstanding the dollar-for-dollar inequity of making the cookie yourself rather than purchasing a pack, it is well worth the effort to bake, cream butter for frosting, and assemble these decidedly sophisticated sandwich cookies. There is a bit of salt in the chocolate shortbread, which contrasts nicely with the chocolate, and the buttercream frosting tastes like a premium vanilla ice cream. And yes, if you wanted to skip the ten or so minutes it takes to make the buttercream frosting, you can just as easily jam a cookie or two into a scoop of vanilla ice cream and call it a night.
With Valentine's Day fast approaching - admitting first that I am a Valentine's Day geek - and thinking that you may want to stay in for dinner this holiday and conserve your resources, this dessert would make a wonderful, very sophisticated, intended-for-adult-palates treat, and yet it doesn't take terribly long to make.
Chocolate Sandwich Cookies for Lovers (I did say I'm a geek about this, didn't I?):
For the Chocolate Cookies:
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup unsweetened cocoa powder
1 teaspoon kosher salt
In a mixing bowl, cream the butter and sugar together until the mixture is fluffy and pale, approximately 5 minutes.
While the butter and sugar are mixing, combine the flour, cocoa powder, and salt in a mixing bowl, stirring well to combine the ingredients. The last thing you want is one or two cookies with an inordinate amount of salt in them and nearly no salt in the others.
Once the butter and sugar are creamed, add half of the flour mixture. When you first add the flour mixture, if using a stand mixer, start on the "stir" setting to avoid a cloud of cocoa and flour dust floating around your kitchen. Once the first half of the flour mixture is completely combined with the butter mixture, repeat with the second half of the flour mixture until the dough comes together, approximately 2 minutes.
Turn the dough out onto a sheet of waxed paper cut to the approximate size of a large baking sheet. Form the dough into a rectangle in the same aspect ratio as the waxed paper. I've worked a long time in television, so aspect ratio, which is an everyday term in television, in this case means that the dough should be in the shape of a rectangle, with the long side of the dough being the same as that of the waxed paper. Sure. There was an easier way to say it, but really, aspect ratio jumped into my brain and wouldn't leave. So you now own it, too.
Cover the dough with another sheet of waxed paper with the dough between the waxed paper, roll the dough out with a rolling pin to approximately 1/4-inch thickness. Gently place the waxed paper-dough sandwich onto a large baking sheet and refrigerate for 15 to 20 minutes to make the dough easier to handle when cutting circles out of it and moving those rounds to the baking sheet.
After the refrigeration period is over, preheat the oven to 325 degrees. Set an oven rack in the middle position. Transfer the waxed paper-dough sandwich to the counter and line the baking sheet with parchment paper. Using a 2-inch round cookie cutter, cut rounds out of the dough and place them on the parchment-lined baking sheet, approximately 1/2-inch apart. These cookies do grow, but not very much, and even if you have some kissing (see? Geek.), it won't be a problem, they come apart pretty easily.
Bake cookies on the middle rack for 15 minutes, rotating the pan midway through the cooking time. Bear in mind that these are dark brown cookies, so you may question whether they are done at 15 minutes, but I can assure you, they are. You don't want to burn them, that would be very not-sexy. Remove from the oven, allow to cool on the baking sheet for 1 to 2 minutes, then transfer to a cooling rack until completely cooled.
For the Vanilla Buttercream Frosting:
12 tablespoons (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened, and cut into pieces
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
2 egg yolks
2/3 cups confectioners sugar, sifted
I would undertake this process while the cookie dough is refrigerating. The making of the buttercream takes but 10 minutes, including assembling the ingredients, and it needs to refrigerate before you spread it on the cookies, so why not make good use of the in-between time?
Place the butter, vanilla extract, egg yolks, and confectioners sugar in a large mixing bowl and mix on medium speed until creamed. Approximately 5 minutes.
Could it be any easier? No, I didn't think you'd think so. So now take the buttercream, transfer it to a container for refrigeration, and let it chill for at least as long as it takes to bake and cool the cookies.
Once the cookies are cooled completely, bust out with the vanilla buttercream. Using a knife, spread approximately 1 tablespoon - or your desired cream filling amount - of the buttercream on the bottom of one cookie. Take a second cookie, place the bottom side against the buttercream and press gently to level out the frosting. Refrigerate until just before serving. Perhaps you want to place just one on a white plate, sprinkle some confectioners sugar over the plate, and then drizzle some chocolate sauce around the edge of the plate for optimal Valentine's Day presentation purposes. It's just a thought. Then surprise Lover with news that there are 16 or so additional homemade sandwich cookies in the 'fridge. That ought to get you in Lover's good graces if you weren't enough already.
Dinner tonight: Cinnamon-pepper Roasted Chicken in an Orange-Cinnamon Sauce with Roasted Carrots and Fregola (Sardinian pasta in a large cous-cous form, but toasted. Yum.). Estimated cost for two: $8.41. The chicken is large, 4.37 pounds, and at $1.39 per pound was $6.07. We will eat no more than half of it, so that's $3.04. The cinnamon for both the chicken-seasoning and the sauce will be around 20-cents. I never count salt and pepper, so there you have that. The Orange-Cinnamon Sauce will consist of a shallot, so 25-cents, a couple tablespoons of olive oil at 22-cents, a cup of orange juice, which in the size OJ I bought will run me around 70-cents. I am using raisins in the sauce as well, so at $1.99 for 8 ounces, I'll use around 2 ounces, and that's 50-cents. The carrots will be no more than a pound from a 5-pound bag that cost $3.99, so that's around 80-cents. The oil for the carrots will be an additional 22-cents. You know, I might toss some cinnamon on the carrots, too, so let's add another dime. The Fregola was a gift from my brother and his wife - yes, I get food gifts, and, you should not be surprised - I love food gifts. However, I know that it costs around $3.30, and we will use half of that, so that's $1.65. I have a sad-looking pear hanging around the house, so I think I'll throw that into the Fregola, and back when that pear was much more attractive-looking, it cost me 73-cents. Always thinking about how to not have food go to waste, I am. Now, if only I had eaten the pear when first purchased, I wouldn't be in that predicament, but even an over-planner such as myself can run amok once in a while. For 73-cents. I think I'll let that go, and I'd appreciate it if you would as well. Deal?
If you've read any of the previous posts in which I've described having Ribollita for dinner, you are already aware that it comes from the tradition of cucina povera, or the poor kitchen - also known as peasant cooking - which was the necessary means of cooking throughout Italy for generations. Many of the dishes of cucina povera were designed to utilize leftovers, hence, Pappa al Pomodoro (tomato and bread soup) was a way to use the previous day's bread rather than have it go to waste, likewise, Panzanella, a tomato and bread salad was designed for the very same purpose. Ribollita was often made from another leftover soup, and its name translates to "reboiled", so the soup would literally be recooked and then served over what? Yes, leftover bread.
It is fortuitous for us that those Italian cooks who had no choice but to use every last bit of food in their houses happened also to have fantastic taste. These foods tend to be very tasty despite their humble ingredients, and in many cases, are also quite substantial.
I have made this soup in a variety of ways to determine the easiest method - in the event that you were wondering if I am looking out for your interests, you now know that I am - and it turns out that there is one step at the end that, while seemingly an "extra", is actually vitally important to the garlicky goodness of the soup. If you don't love garlic, well, then, it is an extra. But if you, like me, are enamored of garlic, it is mandatory.
Now, let us make the garlicky Ribollita:
Ingredients:
1 1/2 cups dry cannellini beans or Great Northern beans
3 tablespoons extra virgin olive oil
1 celery rib, chopped
1 carrot, peeled and chopped
1 medium onion, chopped
1 clove garlic, diced
1 tablespoon rosemary, chopped
1/4 teaspoon crushed red pepper
8 cups water
(1) 15-ounce can crushed fire-roasted tomatoes
1 bunch cavolo nero (also known as "dinosaur kale") or one small head savoy cabbage, chopped.
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 tablespoon thyme
2 cloves of garlic, diced
kosher salt
pepper
a slice of crusty bread for each person partaking of the soup, or - even more in the spirit of cucina povera - leftover bakery bread that you can't believe you let dry out to the point of crouton consistency. If you want your soup to look like the one in the picture above, you may want to toast two slices of bread for each partaking person.
1 tablespoon olive oil (more if you are using more than 4 slices of bread)
1 large clove of garlic, peeled
The night before you plan to make the Ribollita, rinse the dried beans well, sifting through for pebbles, as beans are from the earth, they sometimes carry bits of earth with them to the grocery store. Once the rinsing water runs clear, place them in a large bowl and cover with cold water. The beans will expand to approximately double their dry size, so resist the temptation to soak them in a small bowl, lest you awake to find beans spilling over the bowl edge and cluttering your counter top. Not a very desirable first event of the day, I'm sure you'd agree.
Once you are ready to make the Ribollita, drain the beans and set aside. Heat the oil in a large stockpot over medium heat. Add the onion, celery, carrot, and garlic and cook until the onion is translucent and all of the vegetables are softened, approximately 8-10 minutes. Add the rosemary and crushed red pepper and stir to combine. Add the beans and stir to coat with the oil. When the beans are well-coated, add the 8 cups of water and the crushed tomatoes, bring to a simmer, cover, and cook for 1 1/2 to 2 hours, or until the beans are cooked through. Trust me, you will know if a bean is not cooked through. In the name of getting all the answers for you, I have tried a not-thoroughly-cooked bean, and there is no confusing it with a thoroughly-cooked bean.
Allow the soup to cool slightly. If you have read about or attempted to make either the Roasted Butternut Squash soup or the Roasted Fennel and Carrot soup, you know that pureeing hot liquid in a blender will most certainly result in kitchen walls, counters, cabinets, and any inhabitants of your household who happen to be in the kitchen, to be covered in whatever hot liquid you thought you might be pureeing. I'm sure I don't need to tell you - oh, but I will - this is extremely undesirable.
Now, that the soup has cooled, use a slotted spoon to remove the beans - at least half, and more than half if you like a thicker soup - to a bowl. There should also be some liquid (as mentioned in the previous paragraph) in the bowl and even some of the vegetables. You can't be sorting out diced celery and carrot pieces prior to pureeing, that would be infuriatingly tedious work. Working in batches, puree the beans and then return them to the stockpot. Once all of the beans you've chosen to puree have been returned to the stockpot, reheat (not reboil - just reheat, but conceptually, you are free to think of it as reboiling if it helps you better connect with your inner practitioner of cucina povera) the soup. Add the cavolo nero or Savoy cabbage at this point. Cook until the cavolo nero or cabbage is cooked through, approximately 20 minutes. Toward the end of the cavolo nero/cabbage cooking time, heat the 1 tablespoon of oil in a small pan over medium heat, add the thyme and garlic, and cook quickly - approximately 2 minutes - until the garlic is good and fragrant. Add the garlicky-thyme mixture to the pot, and give it a good stir. This thyme-garlic saute is the not-extra extra step. You must do it. Trust me. Now, taste the soup and salt and pepper as you desire. I find that Ribollita requires a bit of salt to highlight it's flavor, and kosher salt works best for this task.
Also during this cavolo nero/cabbage cooking time, you'll want to dry out the bread. Essentially, you are making croutons of the bread, so preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Place the slices of bread on a baking sheet. Drizzle just a little bit of olive oil onto both sides of the bread, they do not have to be doused in oil, a drizzle really will be fine. Bake in the oven until each side is lightly browned, approximately 5 minutes per side. Remove from oven and, using tongs to hold the bread as it will be hot, rub the cut side of the garlic clove over one side of the bread. If you love love love garlic, go ahead and rub both sides of the bread. Your eyes may sting from the heat of the garlic when you bite into your crouton, but, hey, you love garlic, so you already know this.
Place a slice of bread at the bottom of a soup bowl and ladle out some recooked bean and vegetable soup to submerge your crouton. If you so desire, drizzle a little extra virgin olive oil over top of the soup, and, heck, for good measure, you could even shave some Parmigiano-Reggiano onto the soup before serving, and then serve it forth, not feeling at all like a peasant, but like a very thrifty modern-day cook who just whipped up a very satisfying, tasty, and garlicky zuppa.
Dinner tonight: Roasted Butternut Squash Lasagna. We haven't had this since before Thanksgiving, and I am only too happy to see it return to my dinner table, scrumptious as it is. Estimated cost for two: $4.24. The milk for the Sauce Bechamel is 25-cents per cup at $1.99 per half-gallon. I used 5 cups, so that's $1.25. If you happen to buy gallons of whole milk - I do not for they would spoil in my house and you must know that I hate waste after having read all about cucina povera above - the milk would cost $1.09 at $3.49 for 16 cups for the Whole Foods store brand. The butter is 39-cents, the flour is around 6-cents. The rosemary, if purchased - I have a plant sitting in my house because rosemary is JR's favorite herb - would be about $1.99 for a bunch, and you need about 4 sprigs, so we'll call that 50-cents. The butternut squash should be no more than 80-cents per pound, so that's around $1.60. The olive oil used to coat the bottom of the lasagna pan is around 11-cents, and the lasagna noodles are half of a box that cost $1.59, so we'll round up and call that 80-cents. The largest expense is the Gruyere, but you're worth it, so go ahead and spend the $11.99 per pound. We're only using 3/4 pound, so we'll tally that up as $8.00. The entire lasagna therefore costs $12.71. At my house, this only yields 6 servings, but if you're light eaters, it could be eight servings. However, we do the math based on what happens at my house, and so each serving is then $2.12.
