At least you have the past—I needed more than that
I had a rough night and very little sleep, but several nice things happened in the course of the day.
I had a bagel with sturgeon for lunch. It was accidentally made with cream cheese instead of its proper butter, but it was substantial and decadent all the same. I can't remember the last time I had smoked sturgeon. I think I was in New York. This one came from Mamaleh's. I want another one—with butter—soon.
I Zoomed with the mongeese, otherwise known as my godchild and their age-mate houseguest from the UK. They share the kind of high-explosive energy that caused me and![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
selkie to start humming "20 Tons of TNT." Once they left the conversation, I heard faint noises filtering through the screen that I thought were artifacts until I was informed the youth were experimenting with musical instruments in the basement.
I made spice krinkles from The Essential New York Times Cookbook (2021) with my mother. They turn out to trace to a late eighteenth, early nineteenth century recipe that I would love to see the original of—the current form is heavy on the molasses, the cinnamon and ginger and cloves, and the dusting of white sugar on top that cracks magmatically in the baking. They looked ridiculous in the oven and tasted just as good out of it. I took a picture because they came out so beautifully that I started laughing.
Late in the evening there was a scarcity of cat litter and I found myself inside a supermarket for the first time since last spring. I wouldn't call it a nice thing exactly, but I was successful in my quest and took the opportunity to collect a number of staples for the human side of the household as well as a couple of treats. The experience of browsing up and down the aisles was sufficiently unfamiliar as to feel, especially at night under the Kubrick fluorescence, almost science-fictionally unreal. I miss museums. I miss bookstores. I miss eating in restaurants. I miss movies in theaters. I miss walking through cities without thinking about it. It is not enough to want to pretend that everything is normal again.
I had a bagel with sturgeon for lunch. It was accidentally made with cream cheese instead of its proper butter, but it was substantial and decadent all the same. I can't remember the last time I had smoked sturgeon. I think I was in New York. This one came from Mamaleh's. I want another one—with butter—soon.
I Zoomed with the mongeese, otherwise known as my godchild and their age-mate houseguest from the UK. They share the kind of high-explosive energy that caused me and
selkie to start humming "20 Tons of TNT." Once they left the conversation, I heard faint noises filtering through the screen that I thought were artifacts until I was informed the youth were experimenting with musical instruments in the basement.I made spice krinkles from The Essential New York Times Cookbook (2021) with my mother. They turn out to trace to a late eighteenth, early nineteenth century recipe that I would love to see the original of—the current form is heavy on the molasses, the cinnamon and ginger and cloves, and the dusting of white sugar on top that cracks magmatically in the baking. They looked ridiculous in the oven and tasted just as good out of it. I took a picture because they came out so beautifully that I started laughing.
Late in the evening there was a scarcity of cat litter and I found myself inside a supermarket for the first time since last spring. I wouldn't call it a nice thing exactly, but I was successful in my quest and took the opportunity to collect a number of staples for the human side of the household as well as a couple of treats. The experience of browsing up and down the aisles was sufficiently unfamiliar as to feel, especially at night under the Kubrick fluorescence, almost science-fictionally unreal. I miss museums. I miss bookstores. I miss eating in restaurants. I miss movies in theaters. I miss walking through cities without thinking about it. It is not enough to want to pretend that everything is normal again.
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Thank you! The cookies were very uncomplicated to make: in a stand mixer or a Cuisinart if yours isn't broken, cream a cup of brown sugar and a stick and a half of butter (we used salted); beat in one large egg and a quarter-cup of molasses; stir in two and a quarter cups of sifted or scant flour mixed with two teaspoons of baking soda, two teaspoons of cinnamon, two teaspoons of ginger, and three-quarters teaspoon of cloves (and a dash of salt if you aren't using salted butter); chill for at least two hours; roll into walnut-sized balls, dip the tops in granulated sugar, bake eight to ten minutes at 375 °F. Try not to eat all of them the minute they come out of the oven. Mostly succeed.
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Molasses is underappreciated these days in baking.
I have had a yearning for hermits lately, if your tastes run in that direction (a bottle of molasses has been opened, after all), the Crosby's recipe is the closest I can find to the ones I remember from bakeries around New England.
https://www.crosbys.com/chewy-hermit-bars-recipe/
Divide the dough into 3 or even 4 pieces to cut squarer cookies.
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Thank you! We did nothing beyond follow the recipe, so I attribute it to the granulated sugar.
(After decades of rolling fudge in colored sugar and occasionally baking snickerdoodles, I must say it was kinaesthetically disorienting to roll balls of the same-sized dough and then just frost the tops.)
Molasses is underappreciated these days in baking.
I love it. Under normal circumstances, I would have been making corn puddings for months at this point in the year. I don't know if I have ever had a hermit, honestly, but that recipe looks extremely edible to me. I would substitute either dried cranberries or dried blueberries for the raisins and probably skip the glaze, but I note that the recipe says it can stand such adjustments. Thank you!
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I told my mother as I was working with the chilled dough that it was like sculpting wet sand. Even as it thawed, it kept that stiff, slightly gritty texture, not at all like snickerdoodles which just melt as you roll them.