Pink of Perfection

Can we talk about cookies yet?

I know you’re all eating tofu and baby bok choy and feeling like lean, virtuous tigers of unbounded energy, but consider the cookie. So perfectly portioned, sweet, buttery, a little salty. The perfect nibble, really, with an afternoon cup of tea when you feel your will to look at another spreadsheet flagging. And even though I can’t think of a way to convince you that a cookie is the gold standard in nutrition, you can’t deny how utterly wholesome these devils are. What do you think Laura Ingalls Wilder ate on the grassy plains when she sat cooling her heels in a cold brook? What did Jane Austen use to fortify her mind while considering the proper twist to bring Elizabeth and Darcy back together? I cannot prove that it was cookies, but I feel quite certain that the chances are good it was.

Necessity inspired a revelation with this particular recipe. All I happened to have in the freezer was salted butter, undoubtedly something my mom sent me home with in a “your not eating well enough” care package. Here, take four sticks of butter. Anyway, I followed the recipe to a t, using the salted butter and then absentmindedly stirring in additional salt as well. The results were addictive: flat, rich cookies, crisp on the edges, soft in the middle, studded with saltiness. A cure for the Mondays? I won’t make any promises, but it’s worth a shot.

Continue reading “Peanut Butter Cup Cookies” »

I say salty because that’s what catapults these rich cookie bars into another stratosphere. Without the salt these sweet rectangles would be cloying. With that lick of savoriness, a layer of butter cookie topped with a salted chocolate caramel and sprinkled with sea salt becomes otherworldly. One guest proclaimed that these knocked chocolate chip cookies out of her favorite cookie spot.

I say salty also because as filled with as I am with hope, goals, dreams, and expectations for the new year, I’m sure those dark days will come: we’ll get caught in the rain (but not in a romantic way), stay home sick (but not in that mental health day kind of way), and fine ourselves beset by the blues (and not necessarily in a creatively rich Dorothy Parker kind of way).

Just today I woke up with the world unexpectedly softened by snow. At first, it seemed magical in that Christmas morning kind of way. And then I thought of the treacherous streets, worried about someone I love moving from one office to another, just today turning the page on one life chapter. Perhaps the best we can do is notice the flip side of life, and then turn that coin right back to the bright side. That is the art and challenge of living well, no matter how fat your bank account.

Whenever I talk of moving to some fair city and starting anew, a friend reminds me, “Wherever you go, there you are.” The same certainly can be said for money. Sure, some of life’s problems can be banished by waving a wad of cash at them. But the heart of what it means to live fully, ecstatically, confronts rich and poor alike everyday: What is truly meaningful to me? How can I create a daily life that contains my deepest values? What (gulp) is the meaning of my life? And what’s for dinner?

As we approach a new year and the fourth (!!!) anniversary of Pink of Perfection, I want to thank all of you for coming to this site, reading, hanging out in the forum, and most of all, leaving your insightful, funny comments. I have always loved this blog as my creative place; the unexpected joy has been watching it become a gathering spot to the wisest, loveliest blog readers out there. I take great comfort in this community, and I hope you do, too. Here’s to another year of asking the big questions and savoring the smallest pleasures. Happy New Year!

Continue reading “A Sweet (and Salty) New Year” »

Even before I was invited over to a friend’s house for the world’s best beans and rice (holy ham hock!), these cookies had been on my mind. Cool air makes me think of oatmeal. Strike that, cool air makes me want to bake, and nothing gets me back into the baking swing of things than cookies. So wickedly wholesome, so perfectly portioned, so associated with all that is good and innocent and simple in the world. But if oatmeal needs a friend, I confess raisins just don’t get my heart pumping. Chocolate chips, you say? Now we’re talking.

When I discovered, however, that I was out of brown sugar, my powers of improvisation leapt at the idea of making these cookies with maple sugar (white sugar mixed with, of course, maple syrup rather than molasses). I thought the maple flavor would kick up the fall feeling of these cookies. But to my dismay, the maple ended up being a silent accompaniment to the batter. Now I find myself wondering how far a little extra maple syrup would have gone… It’s important to ask the big questions on Monday morning.

Continue reading “Oatmeal Chocolate Chip Cookies” »

Sometimes it’s fun to be a cliché. Like when you are feeling especially tender and emotional and decide to put on your pajamas while the sun is still high in the sky and dunk hot, double chocolate cookies in a glass of cold milk while beginning at episode 1 of Sex and the City and vowing to work your way through to the end (even though Carrie’s frizzy brown hair and the way she addresses camera in that first episode never fails to make you cringe). As they say, there’s a reason why a cliché is a cliché, and in my world this holds especially true when it comes to rom-coms and chocolate. In this particular case, the coziness of fresh baked cookies and a nightgown, coupled with a glamorous fantasy life of endless cocktails (but no hangovers), endless shopping (but no buyer’s remorse), and the tidy tying up of loose ends every 26-minutes is a wildly comforting concoction. And the cookies, a little chewy, very chocolatey, really do help.

Continue reading “Double Chocolate Cookies” »

I thought it best to make my mom’s favorite foods for Mother’s Day dinner, and because she likes aioli, salmon, and coconut, my cooking on Sunday wasn’t so much a labor of love as it was a labor of likemindedness.

We drove together to a farm stand on a hilly stretch of road between our house and another town on a warm and sunny day. The flowering trees and forsythia had their moment the previous weekend, and now potted flowers were laid out for sale on splintery tables outside — gerber daisies and lots of blooms I didn’t know the names of. We grabbed two beautiful bunches of asparagus. The wind was whipping around so wildly, the roadside grasses were bowing deeply at the waist like gentlemen.

Back at home, my mom planted Early Girls in the garden and I stood at the counter in her kitchen, snapping off the asparagus ends, and looking out at her leaning into the dirt. The sun was catching in her short hair, and I thought, with such deep surprise and so much gratitude it nearly took my breath away, the spring always comes. After a winter of doctors and tests, prodding and hospital rooms, it is Mother’s Day and it is spring and it almost seems like a miracle. But it’s my mom.

Spouses and significant others stayed at home, and my older brother and sister and I sat in the kitchen with my mom, the wooden table spread with blanched asparagus and aioli, cheese and crackers, and chips and salsa — all mom’s favorites. Oh, and three of four kids — her other favorites. Salmon was to come, followed by coconut macaroons and a cup of tea. I don’t even remember what we talked about, I just know it was perfect.

Continue reading “Spring Menu for a Mom” »

In third grade, my class somehow hooked up with another group of nine-year-olds on other side of the globe, and we became pen pals. I think only one or two rounds of letters crossed the Atlantic, but I loved the thrill of the unopened mail, a potential friend with a life unlike mine in a place I’d never seen. Those letters seemed strange and otherworldly, and to a girl with an over-active imagination held the promise of secrets. About what, I wasn’t sure, but everything about those letters — the envelopes, the stamps, the handwriting, the notebook paper — it all excited me.

Now I sometimes feel tyrannized by the mailbox outside my apartment as well as the email inbox. The bills and junk mail never go on vacation, and I optimistically sign up for newsletters and ebay alerts thinking they too will contain some kind of privileged information, only to feel annoyed by their weekly appearance.

But there is a certain kind of email and form of old-fashioned post that I am always eager to receive, and that is a note from a pen pal. Letters, notes, and trinkets arriving from San Francisco, Brussels, and South Dakota cheer me to no end. So when Sara Rose asked me to make blondies, how could I not oblige? She had after all, talked me down from a ledge regarding wedding planning and sent me the loveliest Victorian Valentine. Blondies it was.

Blondies can be thrown together in a flash (I made these in the hour before we had to leave to catch a train and still managed to take a shower, too!) and are endlessly adaptable. I think of them as one of my mom’s favorite desserts, which makes them that much sweeter in my mind, and now I will think of them as my pen pal’s favorite, too. I mixed in coconut and chocolate chips, and I think I overheard someone use the word “sinful” when they took a bite. I think this is a recipe I’ll stick with. Question is: what does Sara Rose think?

Continue reading “Coconut Dark Chocolate Blondies for a Pen Pal” »

Chocolate chip cookies may be the most basic of the basics (in fact, I think this might have been the first thing many of us ever cooked, standing on a chair and stirring at the counter). To me, they are possibly one of the ultimate comfort foods, delightfully uncomplicated, and the perfect afternoon pick-me-up with a strong cup of coffee. But finding the recipe that is your most perfect version is, well, a bit of a challenge.

I like my chocolate chip cookies flat, all butter and dark chocolate with just a faint hint of salt now and then, crisp on the outside, chewy in the middle. It is the chocolate chip cookie reduced to its most basic elements and then amplified, and it is an elusive combination found perfectly embodied in The City Bakery’s chocolate chip cookie.

I found this recipe on Chowhound posted by hounds who said it was most like City Bakery’s. This cookie is very, very good. In the hunt for my go-to chocolate chip cookie recipe, this one is close. But not quite there. I want mine even butterier, even chocolatey-er. Next on the to-try list is this one and this one. Any other suggestions?

Continue reading “Classic Chocolate Chip Cookies” »

First, I just have to say thank you. Your comments on yesterday’s post dragged me out of a funk, inspired me, and made me sense a web of unseen support out there on the internets. And what a wonderful feeling that is. I can’t quite thank you enough. And now, for the lemon bars…

Last year we dutifully ate our black eyed peas, and where did that get us? So this year Sebastian and I revisited one of our favorite New Year’s Day: we did absolutely nothing, all day, ate brunch just as the sun was going down, and enjoyed these cold lemon bars in a warm apartment.

This is Sebastian’s recipe and he has no idea where it originally came from. All we know is that it is now copied in a cartoonist’s handwriting on a weathered index card, and they come out perfect each and every time. The crust is buttery, flaky, and rich, the lemon layer sweet and brightly puckery at once, the perfect marriage of opposites.

These make quite a few lemon bars, which I would encourage you to give away to your friends, coworkers, and neighbors. Otherwise you will be visiting the fridge upwards of twice a day, cutting out little squares of lemony goodness, trying to dispose of these lovelies before your new year detox begins. Which is what I was doing.

Continue reading “Sebastian’s New Year’s Lemon Bars” »