Maamoul: Stuffed Date-Orange Cookies

How do you pronounce “maamoul”? I have absolutely no idea. I figure that’s as good a reason to bake a cookie as any. I’m sure no one would notice if you just produce an “m” sound and then casually trail off. (Cultural ignorance!)

Still, it must sound pretty fancy when you introduce these cookies to acquaintances at social gatherings. I can see it now…

‘Jan made chocolate chip cookies – let’s give Jan a hand, shall we! Come on mutual acquaintances!’ your friend Bruce says because he talks like that. He also calls people dears. He’s that guy.

‘Three cheers for Jan!’ Susan adds.

But you hate Susan and you hate chocolate chip cookies. And you really hate Jan. And Bruce. Whose acquaintances are these anyways?
That’s when you step forward, Tupperware chock full of Ma..m…l, with a frightening grin.

‘I made stuffed Date-Orange cookies.”

The room goes silent. Chewed chocolate chip cookies are spit into napkins. Acquaintances, mid pat-on-the-backs for Jan, stop abruptly. Someone slaps Jan. AND SCENE.

At least that’s how I imagine it. You probably should just call them Stuffed Date-Orange cookies is what I’m saying.


On to the baking!!
First off, find the recipe HERE and follow my every move.

This recipe uses a food processor and food processor only. I thought that was odd but hey, I can’t even pronounce the name of the cookie so who am I to judge? I put my judging cap on anyways – of course I am to judge, I’m captain judgment – and stuffed the dates and crap into the mixer. Hey PS dates are super sticky. These dates are sticky like if I got sticky date goo (i.e. this filling) stuck in my hair, well I’d probably have to use bubble gum to get it out. It’s that serious.

The greatest part about the food processing (it had so many great parts) was that the dates were so sticky that the food processor started making this purring sound. It purred hard then it purred soft then it stopped purring all together. And pureeing. After much persuading, it tried again and succeeded. Yay!

It looked like toxic waste sludge. Yum!

The other greatest part about the food processing (see, so many parts!) was that my food processor is only a 4-cup food processor. I’m not some fat cat fluent in corporate mumbo jumbo who goes out buying ritzy food processors that can fit more than a softball. Because the economy.

This mainly came into play in the second part of the recipe when I was supposed to combine all the dough ingredients into the 4-cup food processor. Hilarious! It didn’t work.

I wish some lady who claims she's been around the block a few times was around to give a helpful suggestion...

My mom, after telling me she’s been around the block a few times (mooOOOOoooom) suggested I take my newfound cutting in butter skill (life’s a learning rollercoaster kids) and there was success.

I like the no dough chilling time about this dough. I found that it even helped to keep handling this dough after I made the little balls so I could make it a little softer and less likely to crack when it was time to pinch around the filling and seal the cookie. I still had a bit of trouble when it came to this part, however, because the filling was just so sticky. I felt like the recipe called for me to be part octopus and use my eight clean and tentacled hands to craft the little balls. It was seriously hard with my two, pathetic human hands. It just one of those times when you wish you had a helper monkey. You know, like every second of every day.

While not picture perfect, these cookies still came out super yummy. They crumble really nicely in your mouth and are just buttery enough without being overpowering. The filling is almost a little spicy in its fruitiness thanks to the crystallized ginger. And thank heaven for powdered sugar clumping – I mean dusting.
Plus, these cookies make it okay to slap your acquaintance Jan in the face. Amateur.

RATE ME!

TASTE: 4.5/5 > really yummy but could have used a little something still. Not sure what that something is.

EASE: 4/5 > not too hard to make really. The only thing that was hard to deal with was the stickiness of the dates. SO STICKY.

FILTH OF KITCHEN: 2/5 > I managed to keep it somewhat clean with this recipe. I think not having to roll out dough helps immensely. I’m pretty sure there’s a good amount of powdered sugar in my hair, however.

DID THE DOG EAT IT: He came. He saw. He was genuinely uninterested and stared at me with a puzzled look. I guess his palate just really isn’t up to snuff. (I’ll have you know, the IMPRESS-O-METER just tipped its hat to me, said ‘Good day, madam,’ and skyrocketed through the roof.)

IMPRESS-O-METER: 5/5 > Jan got slapped in the face.

"what's a palate?"

Hamantashen

After the Orange Cookie Sandwich disaster that will now be known forever as "October 21st, 2009: Worse Than the Hypothetical Horrors Awaiting Us All in 2012, Theoretically of Course", I needed a pick me up. I woke up this morning shaking my fist out of anger. It was weird. After a cold shower, a few slaps in the face, and some tears (there was something in my eye - get off my case) I was ready to face the world.

It has always been a dream of mine since starting this blog 2 days ago to make Hamantashen. What can I say, I'm a dreamer. Little triangles filled with gooey goodness promising outrageous difficulty all for the sake of a little hat. That's an idea I can get behind! Little hats! Adorable!

I was immediately impressed when I read this recipe in my Betty Crocker Cookie Book (pg 274 if you're into that sort of thing). In two sentences, this recipe managed to teach me more about Purim than I retained from literally years of Hebrew and Sunday School.

So gather round children and I'll tell you the story of Purim,

These rich, filled cookies, celebrate the holiday of Purim, which honors the victory of the Jews of ancient Persia over Haman's plot to destroy them. Haman was an advisor to King Ahasuerus, and Hamantaschen are "Haman's pockets."

Thanks Betty Crocker! I mean, I refuse to go along with the pockets thing - no one would make a cookie shaped like a pocket. I don't care about translations. That's just ridiculous. Julie and Julia ridiculous. (sorry but she thought 90 year old Julia Child knew how to use the internet circa 2002. Unbelievable, Julie! Unbelievable!) Anyways, I digress.

I got to making the dough for this little labor of Purim love, wearing my favorite 3-cornered hat and a smile that could light the world. But my heart was heavy. I was scared. Was I going to be able to make these as adorable as the millions (literally millions) of professionally assembled Hamantashen I have consumed in my 22 years?

I had another reason to be nervous. The recipe called for plain bread crumbs to thicken up Apricot goo and this was the only package my neighborhood Giant had to offer:


Um those have been on the shelf since 1972, right? Are they kidding with that packaging?

I tentatively "cut in butter" to my flour/sugar/baking powder mix for the first time ever. "Tentatively" turned into all out dough groping. I think it was as I was manhandling the crumby dough that I gained a little Purim courage. I made that dough my Haman bitch - for my people of course. If I had a noise maker at the time, I would have ring-a-linged it with one hand while I abused the dough with my other hand. (Get it? Purim!)

I set the greatly anticipated dough in my fridge and promptly forgot about it for 4 hours longer than I had intended. Yay for priorities!

Upon returning to the rock hard dough, I was nervous all over again. This was probably due from my baking inexperience. I have this constant feeling that the first second I do something just slightly off what the recipe says, my entire kitchen will explode and someone will end up poisoned. Pots and pans all over the places. Kids crying. Adults combusting. It's not good. This is something I need to work on. Yay for blogs on helping me become a better me! High fives all around!

No one exploded. In fact, the dough rolled out easily once I let it hang out and enjoy the counter for a few minutes. Then I went along my merry way making the delicious gooey filling for the Hamantashen.

I chose poppy seed and apricot fillings because they are the best and I won't discuss this any further. Get over yourself Prunes.

Really the rest was rather simple. All it took was cutting out 3" circles from the dough, putting a leveled teaspoon of goo in the center and folding up the edges of the circle to make the triangle. I could have accomplished this all even with a noisemaker in my hands. That should probably be one of my rating categories instead of "ease". Ease is so basic and boring. Can this cookie be made while holding a noisemaker? I like it.

They baked for 15ish minutes probably and then...well then, it was love at first sight. Seriously, these are amazing Hamantashen. They were literally perfect. The cookie part itself was absurdly yummy and a little biscuit-y. Not at all dry. The apricot filling I made with little bits of pecans is the kind of stuff I imagine Unicorns munching on in between giggle fits and bathing in sunshine and happiness. And the poppy seed, even though I bought it pre-made, was a delight.



SUCCESS!

TASTE: 4.75/5 > Incredibly yummy but I'm uncomfortable giving a perfect score for taste right this moment. Sorry Hamantashen, it's not you, it's me.
CAN THIS COOKIE BE MADE WHILE HOLDING A NOISEMAKER: 5/5 > HAMAN!!!!
FILTH OF KITCHEN: 5/5 > Again, rolling out dough creates cleanliness issues. Plus, now I have an ant infestation. Gross.
DID THE DOG EAT IT THE DOUGH: Better yet, he spoke for the first time ever and told me I was doing a "bang up job, champ."
IMPRESS-O-METER: 5/5 > Not only is this cookie appropriate for the most fun (only fun?) Jewish holiday ever, anything you have to make into a tiny adorable package like object is bound to impress. I mean, you don't have to tell people it was ridiculously easy to make. And you can share your 2 sentences about Purim! Learning!


SHOULD YOU MAKE THIS COOKIE? Only if you can handle being the most popular person at Purim.