Passover Torte

Just a quick little snippet on this Passover dessert I made from the incredible, wonderful, Smitten Kitchen. That lady over there is amazing, folks. Clearly, I swapped out the copious amounts of sugar for Truvia, because I'm insane*. I'm sure this affected my macaroon layers negatively in appearance, but the taste was absolutely almond-y and fantastic in every way.

I used her suggestion of orange extract in the chocolate icing - ohmygodyes. My macaroon layers were not as meringue-y as I think they should have been (my peaks didn't get so stiff, I don't think...I blame the Truvia) and I couldn't really trim them too much without them totally crumbling to pieces...hence the uneven-ness. But, despite also not having quite enough icing and running out of decorative almond slices (the shame of it all!), it tasted so, so, so good. So good. But this amount of cake may last me the rest of my life. Sigh. I'll just have to learn to live with it.

There's no real story here. My bad. Just a big old happy Passover to you all. Now go eat some flourless cake.


*insane people also calculate nutrition facts per 1/2" slice of chocolate tortes. I know this first hand. 
193 cals / 24g carbs / 12g fat / 5g protein / 2g fiber / 14g sugar

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?"

Italian Chocolate Sandwich Cookie

Hey Giada De Laurentiis from Food Network, I get it. You're Italian. Every recipe in the world with some derivation of the word "Italy" in the title is clearly yours and yours alone. Great job with the whole Italian empire, Giada. You really stuck it to the man when you shaped the country like a boot. What's that? You claim an Italian cookie recipe? Oh Giada. You're so silly. Surely you jest. Well, I'll humor you.

I'm going to hit on a few key ingredients and steps but you can find the full recipe for Giada's Italian Chocolate Sandwich Cookie on Food Network: The "I'm from ITALY Cookie"

Before I get into the cookie making I must make this public service announcement. Dear Cookie recipe creators: I know you live in a make believe world of sunshine and gumdrops but I do not. Would it be so difficult for you to mention the necessity of a specific cookie cutter BEFORE I make the dough? Like in the first sentence? I, unlike you, do not have an arsenal of various cookie cutters of all adorable shapes and sizes. I know what you're thinking Giada, how absurd! You don't have peons from Food Network HQ to get you that in 35 seconds or they're fired? No Giada (and every other cookie recipe sage ever), I don't. Thanks for all your not help. Please just do me a solid and tell me about 1 3/4 inch round cookie cutter I'll need in the ingredients or something. Or the title. 1 3/4 inch Round Cookie Cuttered Italian Chocolate Sandwich Cookie. That sounds nice.

Now, on to baking!

This cookie sounded not only delicious but also interesting. If completed successfully, it could rank very high on the Impress-Your-Friends-O-Meter. Sandwich cookies are, by nature, the best things ever invented. With every bite of delicious cookies you also get a mouthful of either creamyness, chocolateyness, or ice cream(ness). There are so many other things in this world that would benefit from being sandwiched with the aforementioned fillings (ahem, ECONOMY, where's your delicious inside?).

So immediately I was interested. Plus, this recipe has some wonky ingredients. Orange zest? In the cookies and the cream? Cornmeal in the cookies? Giada! You're playing with fire, girl!

I set off making the dough and it seemed easy enough. The recipe basically asks you to dive right in with your hands and go nuts. I did. And honestly, I thought I was doing an excellent job. But the cornmeal worried me. Right from the start. I like cornmeal. I like polenta. I do not understand where they fit in cookies. It made the dough look grimy...almost like the grit in red clay (hey Art School, thanks for all the jobs you got me!) and that made me uncomfortable. Sure, gritty clay has always looked delicious but I wasn't positive that today would be the day I'd want to eat a fistful of it.

I soldiered on and refrigerated the dough for a couple hours even though it still didn't look quite right. I was supposed to form it into a a round shape and plastic wrap it before refrigerating and, while I did do this, it was a rather crumbly creation. In hindsight, I probably should have added a bit of water or something. But what's that they say about hindsight? Hindsight is Italian Chocolate Sandwich Cookies?

The next step in the recipe was clearly my downfall (ps this cookie takes a turn for the worse FYI). Rolling out the dough proved to be ridiculous. Not only do I hate rolling out dough (hey peons from Food Network, I bet yall do this for Giada, don't you...suckers) but this dough simply did not roll out. I tried. Really. I made a mess. Really! But no dice. I decided then and there to be bold. I was going to beat the crap out of the dough with my cold dead hands.

Here's the problem with this solution: Giada wonderfully suggested that the dough be 1/8 to 1/4 inch thick. That's all well and good when you are using your trusting rolling pin. These hands of mine not only don't do eyeball measurements (they're hands, silly!) but they also do not pound out dough (giggle) in an even and/or flat manner. I got some lumpy, gritty dough out of this. Some parts were thick, some were thin...it was a mess.

I'm super smart (duh) and great at problem solving (double duh) so I got out my trusty 1/3 cup thinger to use for my cookie cutter. It was swell! I gave myself a solid pat on the back, managed to cut out an odd amount of cookies (super smart!) and went on baking them.

Things got weird. Half of the cookies looked like this:


Yum! A perfect Sandwich Cookie!

While the other half looked like this:


What the hell is that?

I was not amused.

After the whole some-cookies-too-thick-some-cookies-too-thin debacle of 2009, I set to work on the happy creamy filling. Surly this would be successful!

It was. The cream was delightful tasting (you can't go wrong with cream). Except one thing. Clearly not enough creamy crap. Which is odd too because the recipe says it makes "28 cookies." 28 sandwich cookies? 14 sandwich cookies? GIADA GET WITH IT. ALL OF ITALY IS DEPENDING ON YOU! Anyways, there simply wasn't enough goo which was honestly, really too bad. Here's why...

The cookies themselves are just not any good. They taste exactly like I imagined: a child's "I <3 MOM" coffee mug made in 6th grade art class for the holidays. It tasted like gritty red clay! How is this even possible! Did no peons taste these cookies, Giada? Well, they needed all the orange cream in the world and Giada only provided enough ingredients for a ridiculously little amount of cream. Not nearly enough to save these monstrosities. I should have known something was up when my dog helped himself to some wayward pieces of dough and started gagging. That animal will eat raw pasta. AND HE LIKES IT.

Here's my classy camera phone picture of the end result:




And the final verdict:
TASTE: 2.5/5 > Delicious cream. World's worst cornmealy cookies.
EASE: 2/5 > remember that time rolling out dough was impossible? I do!
FILTH OF KITCHEN: 5/5 > Anytime rolling out dough is involved, my kitchen takes a beating. Also, there was cornmeal from here to ya-ya.
DID THE DOG EAT IT THE DOUGH: yes and no. He did willingly approach it. It also made him gag.
IMPRESS-O-METER: 4/5 > The impressive factor is still there in the completed cookie just because of the flavors (mmm orange cream excites my palate is what they'll all say to sound smart) and the overall cookie sandwich promise.


SHOULD YOU MAKE THIS COOKIE? Not unless you hate yourself