Holiday Winner #2: Chocolate Chip Cookies

So chocolate chip cookies aren't exactly a holiday tradition, but if I had a nickel for every time I was asked for a great chocolate chip cookie recipe...I could lose the day job and teach cooking classes for a living.

What do I consider chocolate chip perfection? Flat, thin, crispy yet yielding, buttery and just salty enough. Something I could wrap around a nice ball of ice cream, squish down, and keep in the freezer as homemade ice cream sandwiches for times when I'm locked out of my house and my neighbor lets me in and I want to say thank you in my unique way, which happens more regularly than I'd like to admit.

Though I love it like it were my own, this recipe was submitted by Robyn Shapiro, and is the recipient of the second Holiday Recipe Contest Wooden Spoon t-shirt. Shirts off to you, Sugarplum.

Robyn, with her sister and mother were students in my Tech 1 and 2 series this year. This is the first time I've had three family members in a class together, and I tell you it warms the bottom of my deepest pasta pot to consider the impact our time together will have on family feasts for generations come.

There will be roast chicken and roast beef, there will be tomato sauce and pesto, though I know there won't be any kugel, as the family kicked up a tsimmes when I offered a tofu kugel. Both a conceptual and executional shonda, I realize, but a sincere effort to make a pareve side for my beloved brisket. You gotta love students who are as forthright about the foods they love as those they'll never make again.

Though mom was attentive in class, I knew that she had been cooking for longer than I'd been alive, and could probably teach the class as well as I. Sure, there's always something to learn from a good instructor, but let's make no mistake, this woman had been making spreadsheets to organize her Passovers for decades. I know this because she emailed them to me. No kidding.

There was another reason the girls were taking the class, though I don't know that they acknowledged this out loud. Jennifer was engaged, Robyn was married, and this might just be the last time that the women of the family would just enjoy a series of Wednesdays to themselves before children and grandchildren arrived on the scene.

I wanted to suspend time for them, the way one commemorates an event like a bar mitzvah with an album or a wedding with a video. At this very moment, they were planning the homes they'd be creating and the family recipes they'd be sharing. They were in this classroom kitchen for the last time before they scattered to build their own units, like the tiny spiders at the end of Charlotte's web.

Fast forward a couple of years:

"Jennifer, do you remember how we did those banana fritters we did in cooking class? I loved them."

"Robyn, I'm busy nursing Joshua right now, I can't talk. I think they had sesame seeds or something on them"

"Gross. I don't think so. I'm calling Mom."

"Whatever."

Mom will of course have the recipe and be able to email it, fax it or use telepathy to send it to her daughters PDA post haste. It'll be Mom that gets to watch Joshua when they take Miriam and Deborah in for their doctor's appointments, and she'll be the one in the kitchen, teaching him how to make homemade gnocchi, or risotto, like any good Jewish grandmother.

This woman spawned two lovely daughters who truly enjoy spending time together (and with their mother!). I know that she will ever so quietly and discreetly pass her kitchen savvy (and spreadsheets) on to the next generation. I look forward to playing in the kitchen with the coming family members; I can only imagine how Mom must feel.


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Coleman's Chocolate Chip Cookies
Yield: 3 dozen cookies

1 1/2 cups AP Flour
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 stick unsalted butter (at room temperature)
1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar
1 large egg
3/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
6 ounces bittersweet chocolate chips

1. Mix flour, granulated sugar, salt and baking soda in a medium bowl and set aside. Place butter and brown sugar in a bowl and beat to combine (beaters are good, or some arm power). Add vanilla and egg…beat until homogeneous.

2. Slowly add dry mixture and beat until just incorporated. Add chocolate chips and stir mix by hand until incorporated. Roll entire batch of dough into tablespoon-sized balls (I like using a mini-ice cream scoop for this: efficient consistency.) Refrigerate at least 30 minutes; if chilling over 1 hour transfer to sealable bag (the dough may be held like this several days or frozen for a month or more).

3. When ready to bake: Preheat oven to 325 °F. Place cookie dough balls on cookies trays about 2-3" apart place in oven for 15 to 17 minutes, depending on size.

Holiday Winner #1: Gobbletini

The Red Hemper and I weren't particularly close friends in high school. We knew each other the way you know folks in a 250-person class. I was a bit of a goody-goody, geeking out in my AP classes, and he was hanging out with the "Hempers", folks who went to Rockville Centre's South Side High School, and lived in South Hempstead.

We recently connected at our 15-year high school reunion, and realized that though we started in different places, we both ended up at culinary school. Now I'm doing my thing, and he's running a gourmet-to-go and catering place back in RVC.

So we set to talking, then emailing, and now he's become a culinary pal. He tells me who the TV personalities he loves (Alton) and those who irritates the heck out of him (let's not beat this horse). We trade recipes, and he points out spots in Manhattan he's worked that are worthwhile, and those less so. He's shared his deep passion for cheese, and I can feel him inhaling the pungency of his Artisinal memories as he types at the keyboard.

He keeps me honest when I get high fallutin', and cheers me on in the way only someone who has toiletpapered your house and seen you in and out of braces can. Red is still tight with many of the old clan, living no more than a few miles from where he grew up, while I've worked hard to lose that Strong Island accent. This year, when a high school friend passed far too early, it was Irish Red that brought a tableful of food to shivah. The Red Hemper is a mensch.

He was one of the first submissions to The Wooden Spoon's annual holiday recipe contest. He's taken me way back with this one (Jello shots? Only if we can wash them down with a few four-packs of Bartles & Jaymes on the overpass by Hempstead Lake State Park).

Here's to you, Mr. Maher. Thanks for welcoming me home again, and being a new old friend. I raise my Gobbletini glass and wish a hearty Happy New Year's to you and yours. SoHemp #1.


CRANBERRY-ORANGE GOBBLETINI
Created by The Red Hemper

Ingredients
Triple Sec
Cranberry Juice
Lime and Orange Wedges
Cranberry Jello
Fresh Lime Juice
Vodka
Orange Juice
Apple Jack Brandy
Ice

Equipment
Shaker and Strainer
Muddle
Martini Glasses

HERE WE GO: Make the Jello one or two days before (substiute some Vodka for some of the Liquid/Jello Shots YEAH!). While still warm pour/ladle it into martini glasses about an 1/8 way up and refrigerate so it will set. This will give you a little finisher/shot at the bottom of the glass.

Here is the ratio:
(for 1 drink or 10)

25% - ORANGE JUICE
25% - CRANBERRY JUICE
25% - VODKA
15% - TRIPLE SEC
5% - FRESH LIME JUICE
5% - APPLEJACK BRANDY (RESERVE AS A FLOATER ON TOP OF DRINK)

Muddle lime and orange vigorously in shaker. Add ice until the shaker is 3/4 full. Pour beverage in until it just goes above ice and shake, shake, shake/strain & serve into martini glass.

If you are making this in a large batch (enough for the day), mix all of the ingredients together. Set aside in the refrigerator. When you need them, muddle lime and orange vigorously in the shaker. Add ice until it is 3/4 full. Pour beverage in until it just goes above ice and shake, shak, shake (just like Bond) strain and pour into martini glass.

Right before serving, float Applejack brandy on top.

NOW GO FIGURE: Want to get more creative with this? While making the jello, suspend a fresh herb/or chunks of fresh fruit inside of it for even more eye appeal. You can take this aspect into a million creative directions. Use that creative side of you!

Fast Forward: Sid's Latkes

This year, I wrote a piece on latkes for my favorite Jewish Daily. And as sometimes happens, the part of the piece I loved most met met it's end on the edit floor.

But in blogland we ressurect. Much like the miracle of Chanukah, wherest I thought there was content enough to satisfy only one article, I rejoice at the keyboard as I realize that there is content enough to last for two!

Chappy Chanukah, y'all.

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For the last five years, I’ve been teaching basic cooking techniques at the JCC in Manhattan. In doing so, I’ve introduced many students to the fine art of latke making, but one student stands out in my memory.

Sidney Horn was taking the 6-week intensive Learn-to-Cook class in effort to, as he said, “get out more”. He had recently lost his wife of 50 years. On frying day, he mentioned that not only had he never made a potato pancake, but his wife did not enjoy making them, either. “I always asked her to make latkes, but she never did. She’d say, ‘It’s such a pain in the neck!’ ”

I handed him the grater and as he picked up the first russet, he begun sharing stories of his potato-peeling days during the War. “Now that was hard work!” he’d say. He was at least twice as old as the eldest woman in our all-female class, and as he shared his decades of memories, we listened attentively.

Sid grated until his knuckles were raw, drained and drained and drained the potato shreds, mixed in the egg and the seasonings, shaped the latkes, and began pre-heating the frying pan. Ten minutes later, his button-down shirt and apron was splattered with oil and his face was pink with the heat of the stovetop. In his hands were a half-dozen latkes on a paper-towel lined plate. He took a bite and glowed with pride; they were crispy yet yielding, salty and sweet with onions. He asked the class if he could take home the extra to reheat for his daughters.

“This year”, he told the class, “I will be the one who makes the latkes.”


Simple Latkes (as featured in the Forward)

Other latke recipes:
Latke with Schmaltz
Potato-Parsnip Latkes
Fancy Latkes with Caviar

New York: Sweet Like an Onion (Soup)

It will come as a surprise to none of you that New Yorkers have a reputation for being brash, outspoken, and generally one of the less pleasant collections of humans on the planet.

But some times New Yorkers talk back. A few examples from my friends:

My long-legged pal Kinny was walking down the street with her boy-pal Mott one late night in Manhattan's Flatiron district, after a lovely and overpriced meal . They passed a club, complete with 6-foot 8-inch bouncers standing outside.

As they passed, one of the large men muttered "Homo" just loud enough that Kinny and Mott could hear. Just an agressive New Yorker trying to rile up and break down two new lovers enjoying a New York night.

It was too much for Kinny. She went right over to the linebacker, looked up and poked the big galloop in the chest. "You calling my boyfriend a homo?" she said.

He took a step back. "Not at all. No ma'am." She poked him again and looked him straight in the eye, "I didn't think so." She turned, flicked her hair, put her arm in Mott's and walked away. Mott reminded Kinny that it would be he, not she who would be getting a whallop if this went any further.

But sometimes a girl's got to stand up for herself, and those she loves. Just because these Big Galloops was a foot taller and 175 pounds heavier didn't mean that Skinny Galoop needed to take what they were dishing.

Little Hannah, was describing the details of a catering gig she'd recently been offered. The "Vodka and Latke" party, is a Holiday event for an Upper East Side Synogogue. This particular synogogue stands in one of the less impoverished zip codes in the country, and in the world, but Debbie was reminded that this would be a benefit, and there would not be a tremendous amount of money for her budget.

She quoted a fair price, and they demurred. They had no more than $250 for an event for 50 people. "All professionals. Doctors, Lawyers, Bankers...lots of potential clients," she was reminded. At that rate, they'd be better off having it catered by KFC and Chips Ahoy. "Is there any way that you can work with us, we're trying to build this group to get folks more interested in charity? In the spirit of the holiday season, would you be able to reduce your rate? The vodka has been donated..."

Apparently charity starts by not paying your vendor. But Hannah's got a big heart, and made her final offer. "If this has charitable intentions, I'll use the $250 to buy potatoes, oil and onions. The very lowest rate I can charge will be $250 for my time and equipment. I will dontate my services to you, and give that amount to a charity. Will that work for you?"

"I am sorry," the party host said, "We just can't do that. It's way beyond our budget." Huh? Upper east side, young professionals. In the spirit of the season they expect that a caterer should go unpaid instead of asking each attendee for a $5 donation. Hannah declined the "job".

The examples go on, and I'd prefer not to continue with them because they make me sad. What I will tell you is that right now I'm in Charleston, South Carolina, a sparkly shiny Southern city.

Now I won't be here long enough to see if people are sincere and are of good character, if they are good neighbors and take care of one another. I'll assume they are. What I will tell you is that when I walk down the street, people say hello. They stop to pet my dog and ask me what kind of breed she is, and they smile. They talk about the weather, and compliment me on my boots.

They don't call me names when I walk down the street, and they don't ask for more than is fair. They're just pleasant. And when, my beloved New York, did being civilized become so unfashionable?

So those of you who are in New York, do me a favor? Say hello to five strangers on the street today (we certainly pass enough of each other). They might grunt back, but that's okay...one step at a time. And if some one treats you badly, stand up and play fair. No need to escalate; just say your peace, let them know that New Yorkers don't need to tread on New Yorkers.

And those of you who aren't in New York, keep being kind to one another. Y'all are just so darn good at it.


Creamy Sweet Onion Soup
The Wooden Spoon

3 tablespoons unsalted butter
3 vidalia, maui or other sweet onions, roughly chopped
4 garlic cloves, roughly chopped
2 sprigs fresh thyme
3/4 teaspoon salt
½ pound russet potatoes, peeled and cut into 1 1/2-inch cubes
1/2 cup dry white wine
3 1/2 cups chicken broth
1/2 cup heavy cream (or as needed)

1. Heat butter in a large pot. When foaming, add onions, garlic, thyme sprigs and salt; sweat, covered, over low heat until translucent and soft, about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, place potatoes in a steamer and cook until soft.
2. Add wine to onions, and simmer until pot is almost dry. Add stock and simmer 10 minutes. Remove thyme sprigs and puree in a blender, in batches if necessary. Return to pot. Using a ricer, rice the softened potatoes directly into the pot with the Vidalia puree. Add additional stock, as needed to thin the soup. Stir in cream (as desired) and season to taste. Reheat soup, stirring gently.