rosemary, brown butter shortbread

It seems like that time of year (all the times except summer?) when there is no down time. Yesterday after school was a whirl of walking Rilke, filling out/dropping off my ballot, making cookies, cleaning the apartment, and reading for my meeting with Rabbi C tomorrow. Oh and did I mention prepping for class today?

So I settled for something easy for my bake last night. One thing I really love about shortbread cookies is that they don’t spread — and that means I can fit a full batch on two cookie trays and I’m not up until midnight baking/cooling cookies. I’ve been very happy with Mark Bittman’s “How to Cook Everything” shortbread, in part because it’s so forgiving of additions.

Yesterday I browned some butter and then set it to cool in the fridge while I ran (literally) my ballot to my polling place. I feel very lucky that I can get there by foot (plus, I needed some endorphins yesterday). Then, after mixing the cookies and popping them into the fridge to cool, I did a quick vacuum and put away the laundry. While they were baking, I made my slides for today and gave Rilke a belly rub (multi-multi-tasking!).

These cookies are crisp, delightful disks of buttery sweetness. They’re not overly decadent, but they are almost always what I’m craving (have you noticed that I’m obsessed with rosemary and brown butter yet?). Anyway, they’re up there with Deb Perlman’s Blondies recipe for “recipes I would someday like to frame/paint on my cabinet doors because I use them so often.”


Rosemary Brown Butter Shortbread

1 cup browned butter, cooled to solid

150 g sugar

1 egg yolk

190 g flour

60 g cornstarch

pinch salt

1.5 Tablespoons finely chopped fresh rosemary


Cream together butter and sugar for ~30 seconds to a minute. Mix in egg yolk and rosemary, then add flour, cornstarch and salt. Run the mixer until the dough comes together (I’ve found it to be very forgiving). Roll into two logs ~1″ in diameter, wrap in plastic wrap (or a ziploc bag) and place in the freezer for ~25-35 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 325° (Bittman suggests 275° for 30 minutes, but I’m too impatient for that).

Slice the logs into ~1/4″ slices and place on a paper-lined baking tray. They won’t spread much, so you can get them quite close.

Bake for 14-16 minutes (I like to check halfway through because I worry that one tray will cook at a different rate than another and I’ll need to swap them. You know your oven). I like them to be firm and only ever-so-slightly golden around the edges when I pull them out.

Let cool on the trays for at least five minutes before transferring to a rack.

This made me about 50 cookies, so I packed up half for coworkers and threw the other half in a ziplock in the freezer. I’m sure Future Me is going to be very happy to find them!

cinnamon-pecan oatmeal cookies

It’s be a Week, although I feel like I’ve been saying that all spring, and besides it’s only Wednesday. Rilke cut her foot last night and we spent several hours (and many dollars) at the emergency vet. Today, I accidentally let my second block out 10 minutes early (a serious no-no for 9th graders).

But. I have been working on a draft of an oatmeal cookie recipe that I’m pretty happy with. I made cherry-pecan oatmeal cookies last week, but was disappointed with them. They tasted too chewy — like the oatmeal wasn’t thoroughly cooked, and the butter flavor didn’t shine through.


So I tinkered with a recipe that included ground oats as well as regular, upped the brown sugar, and came out with a pretty crisp, chewy cookie. But they were too thin, and even though I stored them overnight in a sealed plastic bag, they went stale quickly!

The tinkering continued. I replaced half the butter with shortening, reduced the brown sugar, lowered the oven temperature, and added some corn starch. The result? Tender, chewy cinnamon oatmeal cookies studded with pecans. I still want to try for a thicker version, but everyone seems pretty happy with these.

3 oz each butter and shortening, melted together

7 oz brown sugar

2 oz white sugar

1 tsp vanilla

1 egg + yolk

6 oz oats (3 oz ground)

4 oz flour

1 tsp baking soda

1 tsp cinnamon

1 tsp corn starch

1 cup chopped pecans


Beat melted fats and sugar for 3-4 minutes, scraping down the bowl. Add egg + yolk and beat until ribbony. Add vanilla and beat until incorporated.

Fold in flour, oats, baking soda, cinnamon, salt, and corn starch, then mix in chopped pecans.

Chill the dough at least 3 hours. 30 minutes before baking, preheat the oven to 325°.


Bake for 12 minutes at 325° and then let cool for 10 minutes on the tray. Cookies will look puffed and undercooked, but will collapse into a chewy, delicious, and solid cookie.

Rilke will have to be in her stitches for two weeks and I know already she’s going to be a nightmare of pent up energy by the end of it. But I’m grateful that it happened now, while there’s still time for it to heal before she goes to training. And grateful for my calm, wonderful vet, and grateful that I have the resources to take care of her.


Currently Reading: Possession by AS Byatt


vegan blueberry-cherry pie & whimsy

On Friday, I took Rilke to see a behaviorist in the Central Valley; I had to take the day off work, which ended up being a small blessing. We drove the hour and a half through the hills and the orchards and the cow fields, past huge, newly-built mansions and worn, dilapidated houses and truck stops and feed stores. The behaviorist put me so at ease about Rilke, about her energy and her aggression and her anxiety. At the end of the month, we’ll head back to drop Rilke off for a 2-month board and train. I’ll make the trip out to see her once a week (so I can also get trained).


Friday morning, though, before driving to the Central Valley, I made a vegan blueberry-cherry pie to take to Shabbat dinner at Amy’s house. Originally, I had planned on making a blueberry-peach pie, but the peaches were mealy and flavorless, so I rounded out the filling with some hastily-defrosted cherries leftover from the jam bars I made earlier this week.


I used Cook’s Illustrated Foolproof pie dough, which I swear by — except I substituted Earth Balance for the butter. Yes, it was less flavorful, but it was worth it so that Amy and her daughter could dig in!

Crust (make 2+ hours ahead of time)

2.5 cups flour

1 tsp salt

2 T sugar

12 T butter OR Earth Balance

1/2 cup Crisco

1/4 cup cold vodka

1/4 cup cold water

Note: I have to make this in two batches, because my food processor is small. If you don’t have a food processor, do your best with a pastry cutter or fingers.

Pulse 1.5 cups flour in the food processor with salt and sugar until combined. Add in butter (cut into 1/4″ slices) and shortening (cut in 8 pieces). Pulse the food processor until the mixture comes together — it will look wet and cohesive. Scrape down the food processor, add the rest of the flour, and process again.

Turn the dough into a bowl and sprinkle with the vodka and water (mix together first). Fold the water and vodka into the dough — it will be very wet and tacky! Toss into a ziplock bag or wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 2 hours and up to 2 days.


20 oz blueberries

1 lb cherries (frozen is fine, defrosted and wrung out)

5 T cornstarch (if making this again with only blueberries or fresh cherries, I would reduce to 4 T)

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 tsp cinnamon* (there is a definite cinnamon flavor to the finished pie — everyone loved it, but just a head’s up!)

1/4 tsp salt

1 T butter or Earth Balance

Egg for egg wash

Turbinado sugar

Preheat oven to 400°.

Whisk together the cornstarch, cinnamon, salt, and sugar, then toss with the cherries and blueberries.

Roll out half the crust and lay in a 9″ pie plate. Pour in the filling mixture, and dot with 1 T butter (or Earth Balance).

Roll out the second half of the dough into a 10″x10″ rectangle and cut into ~10 1″-wide strips. Lay over the pie in a lattice pattern. Brush with egg wash and sprinkle with turbinado sugar.


Bake for 15-20 minutes and then drop the temperature to 350°. Bake for another 30-40 minutes, covering the pie if necessary.

Let cool for at least an hour before cutting!


On Sunday, R and I went back to my elementary school’s Spring Fair. It was lovely to show her all of my childhood haunts — the junk garden and tree house, the clay room, the back stairs with my class’s mural, the bench with my initials carved into it. We got “scrip”, the fair tickets I remember budgeting and hoarding as a kid, and bought ourselves a mini-key lime pie and I got my face painted. It was bright and warm but not hot; kid bands were playing a mix of new alt-rock songs and 70’s classic rock. Everything felt covered in a golden softness that carried through the rest of the day — coffee, soup, and baguettes at a cafe, book-browsing at one of my favorite bookstores, reading at the kitchen table while R cooked us bougie burritos (broccoli, tomatoes, quinoa, and a cashew-“cheese” sauce).


cherry & orange jam bars

This week, I’ve been thinking of cherries. One of my favorite parts of summer is taking a bag of cherries on a lazy picnic and letting the sun warm them before eating.

This week has also been about patience. Mostly patience with myself. My anxiety-brain has been hyperactive this week, and I’ve had to work extra hard to stay focused on reality, and not the sharply spun worries my brain manufactures.


These cherry and orange jam bars were a wonderful bright spot of success this week. I made the jam on Sunday — I literally dumped a pound of still-frozen cherries into a pot with the juice of one lemon and about a half cup of sugar, brought it to a boil, and then simmered on low for around 20 minutes. I poured it into a jar and let it cool in the fridge.

All of the recipes I looked at included oats, and since I was also making oatmeal cookies on Tuesday night, I wanted something more shortbread-like. This is a riff off of Mark Bittman’s Lemon Bars dough, which I made a few weeks ago and really liked.  These ended up crisp on the bottom, and solid enough that the jam didn’t ooze as you ate them.


Cherry & Orange Jam Bars

3/4 cup butter

1 cup sugar

1/2 tsp vanilla

1 egg

1.5 cups flour

1/2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp salt

orange zest of one orange

3/4 cup cherry jam

Preheat the oven to 350°. Line an 8×8 pan with aluminum foil or parchment paper and lightly butter.

Cream butter and sugar together until smooth. Beat in egg, vanilla, and orange zest. In a separate bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, and salt, then fold into butter/sugar mixture. Mix until thoroughly combined.

Press 2/3 of the dough into the pan. Spread the jam over pan, leaving 1/2″ border around the edge (helps keep the jam from cooking to the side of the pan). Pinch small lumps of the remaining dough and “rub” between your fingers to flatten before dropping over the jam.

Bake for 35-40 minutes, until lightly golden and set in the center. Dust with confectioners sugar. Let cool completely before removing from the pan — I popped mine in the fridge overnight. Cut into 16 squares.

I can see lots of possible variations on this — brown butter, pecan or almond flour, different flavors of jam — or even peanut butter & jelly!


scone thoughts (the rosemary-honey-orange-pecan scones of my dreams)

Baking for R has become a highlight of my week. Each recipe is an opportunity to lose myself a little in research and learning; I want to understand the science of chewy versus crisp cookies, the basic ratios that make up scones and cakes and brownies. Tuesday evenings, when I bake, have become a bright silence that buoys up the first half of the week. Grading and lesson planning are set aside for butter, sugar, eggs, and my beloved KitchenAid. And at the end of the evening, something sweet cooling in the kitchen, I sit down and write R a letter to tuck into the paper bag of treats — sometimes about a poem I’ve read, or a memory this baked good brings up, or a conversation we had that I’ve continued to think about.

A few weeks ago, I did a side-by-side comparison of two scone types: these flaky scones and these cream-only scones (scroll down the thread) with half a recipe of this glaze. The cream-only scones turned out just like Starbucks scones — crumbly, almost cake-like, and a little too sweet. The glaze was a real hit, though — tangy and very lemon-y.



Flaky scones from All Things Pastry — R’s favorite


Starbucks-imitation (cream-only) scones from Chowhound — everyone else’s favorite

R preferred Ana’s flaky scones. I made them last week with dried blueberries and lemon zest; this week R suggested something with honey and cinnamon. Keeping Ana’s recipe as a base, I thought about making a honey-rosemary scone (Cinnamon?! So normal!) and read this and this, about substituting honey for sugar (count it as a liquid, reduce oven temperature, use 75% of sugar). I also read this about honey glazes on scones (honey + powdered sugar + milk/water).

Then. I. Saw. This. Cinnamon-honey cubes?!

Anyway, I ended up settling on making TWO types of rosemary-honey-orange scones last week and had a taste off. The clear winner was an adaptation of Thomas Bouchon’s cinnamon-honey scones (I changed the flavor profile and cut a few corners to make the recipe less fussy. While I haven’t made the original, these were tender, full of flavor, and baked up beautifully).

Rosemary Honey Scones.JPG

Rosemary honey and orange pecan scones

Two nights before 

Whisk together:

30 g flour

30 g sugar

5 g finely chopped fresh rosemary

5 g orange zest

With your fingers, rub in 30 g cold butter.

Stir in 20-30 g honey into a smooth paste. Flatten into a 4-inch square on plastic wrap. Freeze overnight.

The night before

Whisk together:

460 g flour, sifted

2.5 tsp baking powder (sifted!)

1/2 tsp baking soda

91 g sugar

In a mixer with the paddle attachment, beat in:

8 oz cold butter, cut into small pieces

and beat for 3 minutes. The directions say to to do this next step with the mixer running, but I’m not that coordinated, so I stopped it and poured in

135 g heavy cream and

135 g sour cream

then beat for 30-45 seconds, scraping down the sides once in the middle. Then I added 1/4 cup toasted, chopped pecans and pulsed the mixer for 30 more seconds.

Take the rosemary-orange honey-butter from the freezer and cut into small squares. Fold into the dough by hand to avoid smearing/breaking them apart.

Press the dough into a 7×10 rectangle on a piece of plastic wrap; cover and refrigerate for 2 hours.

After 2 hours, cut the dough into 12 squares. Place on a silicone-lined baking sheet, 1″ apart, and freeze for 2+ hours.

The day of

Bake from frozen for 28-30 minutes at 350°.

Fresh from the oven, brush with a 2:1 combination of browned butter and honey (I used 40 g butter to 20 g honey).


key lime pie bars & stress & shabbat

It was a stressful week. It is becoming more and more clear that Rilke’s territorial- and dog-aggression are well beyond anything that I know how to fix and I’ve felt at the end of my rope. It’s a sinking feeling of failure that seeped into the whole of the week, from waking to sleeping.

On Thursday, I went to the dispensary and got her CBD oil drops to help with her anxiety/fear in the apartment (which I’m pretty sure is what leads her to lunge/bark at the front door when my neighbors pass by.

And then I came home and baked. I’ve never made key lime pie before, and it’s R’s favorite, so I decided to make these key lime pie bars for our Shabbat dinner Friday night. It was therapeutic — to give all my attention over to the tiny limes (too small for my citrus press), to watch the magic of it setting in the oven, to have to be patient and wait to taste it in the morning.


12 large graham cracker rectangles, finely crushed

3 T ground pecans

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/3 cup sugar

7 T butter, melted

Mix together and press into an 8×8 pan lined with parchment paper. Bake at 350° for 10 minutes. Leave the oven on.


3 egg yolks

14 oz sweetened condensed milk

1 lb key limes, juiced + 2 regular limes (a little over 1/2 cup)

4 tsp lime zest

Beat the egg yolks for 3-4 minutes. Pour in sweetened condensed milk and beat for 2-3 minutes more. Pour in lime juice and zest and beat for 2 minutes more, or until slightly thickened.

Pour over the crust and bake for 14 minutes, rotating once half-way through.


R and I had a lovely Shabbat dinner together — unhurried, full of conversation and laughter.

And this morning, Rilke and I ran through the woods, and I researched train & board facilities. It made me feel hopeful to read reviews of programs that talked about aggressive dogs (whose owners had been told the dogs would need to be euthanized) who were able to find peace and happy relationships. So even though I feel incredibly poor right now, it’s time to start saving so Rilke can get the training she needs to not be crazy.

lime bars & shabbat thoughts

Last night I made Gabrielle’s Lemon Squares from Mark Bittman’s How to Cook Everything. Except I used lime instead of lemon, and bumped the juice up to 1/2 cup. But they still aren’t very lime-y — more generic citrus. Which I guess might have to do with the limes I used (plucked quickly from the not-so-fancy Safeway off 13, while so ravenously hungry I though I might actually collapse into a fountain of tears. Catastrophe-Hungry). I liked the crust, though — this morning when I ate two for breakfast (yes, I know, they aren’t really breakfast food), the crust had crisped nicely in the fridge.

It occurred to me that they would be good with basil. So I’ll add that to the “To Try” list.

But I’m also trying to figure out if they didn’t taste quite right because what I actually wanted was key lime pie. In which case, better limes would not solve the problem.

It’s been a week of a lot of second-guessing and feeling a little helpless in the face of Things That Must Be Done. I have been trying to practice self-forgiveness, but it’s hard to do when so much of the Not Quite Doing My Best (grading, walks and training) affects others so directly (students, Rilke). Grades are also due next week, which adds a kind of high pitched whine to the background of everything.


It is also Shabbat today, and I think Shabbat is the real answer to all of the helplessness and second-guessing. Shabbat, or the Sabbath, runs from sundown on Friday to sundown on Saturday each weekend. Shabbat demands we acknowledge that we are more than our labor, more than the goals we meet or the things we do. The Torah commands that we both “remember” and “keep holy” the Sabbath by engaging in services on Friday evening, Saturday morning, and Saturday evening, as well as abstaining from labor — labor including, for Orthodox or Conservative Jews, lifting anything from the public to the private realms (or visa versa), handling money, or traveling.

Heschel names it as a “realm of time” rather than a realm of “things [which] when magnified are forgeries of happiness.” Instead, Shabbat offers us joy, holiness, and rest. Personally, it feels almost rebellious to take a day of rest — although to be fair, the days of rest I’ve taken have not fully adhered to the rules — I have read and done writing for fun (rather than school), taken my dog on long walks, and cooked. And Heschel is right — it creates a separate realm, a space I find it sometimes hard to leave. I want to learn how to perform the Havdalah, because I think closing Shabbat is probably necessary — a reading I did described the way the Chassids sit at their Seudah Shilshit late into the evening on Saturday, unwilling to let the bride-queen of Shabbat go. I understand that feeling. I have often found on Saturday evenings it is hard to return to the regular world; I feel resentful and out of place.

So this Saturday I will carve time for some silence, some time away from labor (and all the things that feel like labor).