smitten kitchen

People often ask Alex and me if it is difficult living near a trendy NYC bakery, the kind with the mind-bogglingly long cupcake lines outside at what seems like all hours. It probably would be if I found their generic cupcakes, brownies and cheesecakes more tempting but come on, this is me and you just know I think I make these better in my tiny kitchen.

Of course, this completely excludes their peanut butter chocolate chip cookies, a recipe I have been promising you I’d conquer for so long, I can’t believe you all haven’t organized a mutiny yet in disgust–especially when you learn that the recipe had been at my fingertips the whole time, it just hadn’t occurred to me.

It circles back to so much of what I just don’t *get* about these trendy bakeries. Their recipes are so generic–1-2-3-4 cupcakes with back-of-the-box butter cream frosting; chocolate chip cookies not any better than Toll House; Hello Dolly bars that they neither invented nor make better than the least baking-inclined person you’ve ever met–I fail to see what’s queue-forming worthy about them. [Then again, I don’t believe in waiting on a line for anything in a city this big, and oh, I bake regularly at home, so of course I don’t get it. But I digress.]

Not only are the baked goods unoriginal, there is a veritable family tree of bakeries simply stealing their former employer’s recipes and shop look-feel.

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In my mind, there are few higher callings in the baking world than cookies, and simply no higher cookie callings than shortbread, so I cannot think of a better place to start my Week-O-Cookies. They are firm enough to pack in a tin but manage to taste soft. Bites seem to dissipate in your mouth, but not so quickly that you feel you were shorted. They get better with age–and really, who doesn’t want that? And while I will never, ever (ever) complain about a plain one made with some of that Danish butter with sea salt flecks, I’m continually impressed by the myriad of ways shortbread can be adapted and still be as delicious as the original.

Dorie Greenspan’s Espresso-Chocolate Shortbread are an awesome example of this, and were the first time I have had a coffee-flavored cookie that really, truly tasted first and foremost like coffee. The tiny chocolate bits are reminiscent of Everyone’s Favorite Dorie Cookie, the World Peace variety, but even cooler in this because they’re more contrasted to the cookie flavor.

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It has been over a year since I sounded-off about my mild irritation with Michael Chirello–salient takeaways included that I found him fussy and often in excessive use of needlessly pretentious ingredients–and I’ve spent most of it feeling bad about it. I mean, he cooks honestly; he uses as good ingredients as he gets his hands on and he’s not afraid of adapting old stand-bys to make them more feasible for entertaining. These are all good things. I will not now nor ever abide throwing fistfuls of carefully cultivated gray salt into boiling pots of pasta water, but I’d rather pay attention to someone who cares enough about the nuance in flavor that they create than someone who acts like it doesn’t exist.

Unfortunately, we’ve had another setback. A significant one, one so bad I have had to something that crushes my spirits and raises my shackles and throw the entire dish in the garbage. And the error was so easily avoidable, I just… can’t let it go. I hate throwing away food.

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I’ve been thinking this week–probably more than anyone should–about what it means to be a perfectionist. I never considered myself one before; fussy, maybe; needly and exacting at times. Oh, and I have been known to cut cookie bars with a ruler, but I never thought it was about being crazed with perfection–I just don’t understand why anyone wouldn’t use a tool readily available to them.

Nope, I’m thinking that being a perfectionist isn’t about so much what you do, but how you react when little, obviously unsubstantial things go wrong. You over-browned an edge of the cake but it has absolutely no bearing on the final flavor. You accidentally measured wrong and now the aforementioned brownie bars aren’t all even.

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Menu for Hope is an annual fundraiser put together by food bloggers around the globe to raise money for a world cause–this year, the U.N. World Food Programme, and will run from December 10 through the 24th. Food bloggers entice you to give through–what else?–food-related gifts. For each $10 you donate, you may choose to enter your name into a raffle for a specific prize. The full list of donated raffle prizes is here.

But really, all you want to know is: What is the Smitten Kitchen donating? And that would be two Cookie Care Packages.

Alex and I want to reward two donators with a box of homemade cookies from a recipe previously featured on smittenkitchen.com, shipped to your doorstep.

Options include Big Fat Chewy Chocolate Chip Cookies, Molasses Spice Cookies, Homemade Oreos, Russian Tea Cakes, Poilâne Bakery in Paris’s Punition/Sable Cookies, the world-famous World Peace Cookies or Rugelach Pinwheels, just to get your appetite whetted. Should these not be your speed, additional cookie recipes will be coming in next week, so keep your eyes peeled for more buttery-sugary decadence.

The only caveat is that we can only ship these within the U.S. Cookies will not make it internationally without getting stale or broken, and would cost a prohibitive fortune. However, there are a fantastic number of prizes from the EU, all detailed on Foodbeam.

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