October: Chai Pumpkin Spice Thumbprints

In our defence (okay, in my sister's defence), we made these cookies two weeks ago, and then I faffed around on writing it up.  The fact that I can't even really remember why it took me so long to getting around to it is probably some sort of testament to how easily diverted my attention gets when I am Busy.  Also, it's what happens when newly-discovered television shows start eating my brain.

And you all can shut up-- Vampire Diaries is moving.

Right.  Onto the cookies!

This recipe was Jen's choice, so I blame my inability to make them well on that single factor.  Well.  That and the fact that I would much rather have an under-done cookie than an overly-cooked cookie.  Seriously.  Faintly warm cookie dough totally counts, as far as I'm concerned.

Cookies: Chai Pumpkin Spice Thumbprints.  I didn't even know they made Pumpkin Spice Hershey Kisses, but Jen's the one who found the recipe, so clearly it was her job to find these mythical ingredients.  After making valiant quests to Walmart and Giants and Safeways across our town, she finally found them at Target.  And apparently, the employees at Target must be addicted to them, or something, because they're craftily hidden, away from the rest of the seasonal candy.  So.  You've been warned.   (Addendum:  apparently, the employees have eaten them all.  But they're still available on Amazon-- assuming you're comfortable buying candy from Amazon.)

I volunteered to bring over spices and acquire the Chai concentrate.  Read as:  it seemed like a perfect excuse to go out and buy Chai concentrate.

Requisite Components:
Oven
Cookie sheets
Parchment paper (Why is this now a default inclusion?  Not that I'm complaining-- washing cookie sheets is lame.)
Functional electricity or gas

Recipe:
1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature  (See that?  Butter, it says.)
1/2 cup sugar
1/4 cup Chai concentrate
1 large egg
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/8 teaspoon salt
1/2 teaspoon Chai spice mix
22-24 Pumpkin Spice Hershey’s Kisses  

For the Chai Spice Mix: 
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cardamom
1 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
1/4 teaspoon cloves
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg

This time, think about getting the butter out of the fridge to come up to room temperature upon your arrival, so you don't have to sit around waiting for it to soften.  Waste 10 minutes looking for butter only to discover that all your family has is margarine.  Scoff ad nauseam.  Remember to preheat the oven in advance.  It's a learning process.

So start with the standard routine:  make your sister cream the sugar and butter margarine whilst you handle the dry ingredients.  Make the Chai Spice Mix first, realise you will have a ton of it left over, and set the remainder off to the side.  Assemble dry ingredients.  Watch in horror as the combination of creamed margarine and the rest of the wet ingredients only seems to look more and more unsettling, no matter how much you mix it.  Hastily add the dry ingredients, a little at a time, in the hopes that it will look less disgusting.

Rejoice when this pans out beautifully, and act like you knew it would the entire time.

Because you are environmentally conscious, do your part to limit wasteful water use-- lick the beaters clean with your tongue.  Compare your handiwork with your sister's.  When she seems to have done a more meticulous job, wait until you're reasonably sure your mother is out of earshot before you start making lewd comments.  Then engage in a duel.

Swear profusely when you get to the part of the directions that say PUT IT IN THE FRIDGE FOR AN HOUR, OR TWO, which you failed to notice earlier because when your sister sent you the recipe, she really just sent you the ingredients list.  Give up on trying to get your sister to watch BBC's Sherlock, and default to watching the next episode of Newsroom while the cookies set up.  For an hour.

When you get the dough out of the fridge, amend yourself to the fact that whoever wrote the recipe you're reading must have been drinking at the time, as it is impossible to roll the ultra-sticky dough into respectable balls of any sort because it just keeps sticking to your hands.  Resort to using the scooping apparatus.

In addition to being a lush, accept that the author of the recipe is also unable to count, as you wind up with far more than the projected 24 cookies.  Debate the merits of getting another cookie sheet, and dismiss that option because it's not as though the cookies can expand that much, right?  Of course right.  So, sacrifice your perfectly symmetrical and evenly-spaces cookie layout in favour of cramming as many cookies onto each cookie sheet as is possible.  Sprinkle with Chai Spice Mix.

Put the cookies in the oven for 12 minutes, because it would be the end of the world if you cooked them for too long.  Whilst that's going on, unwrap as many chocolates as you need.  And, because you now have no idea just how many that is, err on the side of overestimating.

Argue about how long the time was set for, regardless of the fact that your sister insist she only set it for 10 minutes.  Give into your fear of overcooking cookies, and rescue them from the oven.  Immediately push the chocolates into the center of the cookies and then for the love of all that is good and proper, try very hard not to touch them until they've cooled.

Take consolation in the fact that you have perfectly overestimated the number of necessary chocolates, allowing you and your sister to eat the remaining two.  Because it's not like you've been snacking on them the entire time.  Try very, very hard not to make jokes about the extent to which some of the cookies resemble certain parts of female anatomy.

Concede the fact that the cookies are, in fact, sort of underdone.  Maybe a little more than sort-of-underdone.  Okay, the bigger ones were practically raw, but they are no less delicious for it.  Blame the margarine.  And then make Chai lattes with the concentrate.  Add too much whipped cream on top.  Sprinkle with Chai Spice Mix.

Blatantly ignore it when, a few days later, your sister emails you pictures of her solitary attempt.  Blame her superior results on the fact that she totally cheated and used real butter.  Not to mention, she totally cooked them for 12 minutes. 

Make yourself another Chai latte.  This time add vanilla rum.  Tell yourself there's nothing wrong with your competitive streak.

September: Morning Glory Cookies

So, I spent a few mostly-boring years living in Delaware.  When I moved back to Maryland, my sister and I were verbally very committed to hanging out more.  Except, we weren't so good at that.  I was still going to college in Baltimore full time, and working a retail job-- plus, she was in school, and working as a doula.  Suffice to say, we were pretty bad it.  Then, we got clever (and she got into Pampered Chef) and we figured we could (surely.) get together once a month to make cookies!  Nice idea.  Crap execution.  A year goes by, and yes, we see each other, but the cookie plan fails entirely.  Christmas of 2011, she gives me a blank scrapbook that is sister/cookie-themed.

It's worth mentioning that my sister is a master scrapbooker.

Nevertheless, we failed a lot.

And then!  Then I got a job at a museum and was able to scale back the retail stuff.  And she got a job a teacher.  So, now that we actually have time that does not involve wanting to sleep (her) or wanting to drink heavily (me), we finally got around to getting together to make cookies.

Then we watched Newsroom, because THERE IS NO MORE WEST WING.

(Newsroom helps to fill the Aaron Sorkin void.)

Onto the cookies.

Cookies:  Morning Glory Cookies.  I've never had them before.  Actually, I'd never heard of them before, but I am a sucker for a theme, and it turns out that morning glories are one of the official September flowers.  So I went with it.

Requisite Components:
Oven
Cookie sheets
Parchment paper

Recipe:
2 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

3/4 cups (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
1 heaping teaspoon grated orange zest

2 large eggs
2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract

1 cup grated/shredded carrot (2-3 carrots)
3/4 cup grated/shredded apple (1 apple)
1 cup golden raisins
1/2 cup shredded, sweetened coconut
1 cup walnuts, coarsely chopped

A splash of lemon juice

Ignore the part of the directions that talks about sifting out of a combination of laziness and a sense of superiority.  Get your sister to mix together the flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon in a medium bowl and set aside.

 
Realise that should have brought your Kitchen-Aid mixer from home, and resort to making your sister use a hand mixer to beat together the butter and sugar and orange zest until smooth and well blended.

While she is doing that, grab a bowl of reasonable size.  Shred the apple - it only took us one apple, and then, because it was such an awesome apple, we used all of it which wound up being more than the recipe technically demanded, but whatever - and add it to the bowl.  Hastily add a splash of lemon juice because you just realised you've done this far too early and if you don't add lemon juice the apple will start to oxidize and turn brown, which is not cute.  Chop the shredded carrot you bought from the prepped food area of the grocer's because you were too lazy to shred carrots yourself, and add them to the bowl with the apple.  Add raisins, coconut, and walnuts.  And then add a few more walnuts whilst no one's looking.  Because walnuts are awesome.  Mix with your hands, you filthy minx.  (Take time to admire the polka dot manicure you gave yourself because you finally ordered dotting tools.)

On medium speed, add in the eggs, one at a time, scraping the sides of the bowl as needed, and the vanilla extract.

Add the delicious fruit/veggie/nut/what category does coconut fall into? mixture to the butter-sugar-egg-vanilla mixture.

Listen to your mother when she points out that you've forgotten to preheat the oven.  And then preheat the oven to 350, for those of us in the States.  Because you don't have your Kitchen-Aid mixer with you, mix in the dry ingredients by hand.

Get tired of that, and then cajole your sister into doing it.  This can easily be accomplished by offering to add the dry mixture, 1/2 cup at a time until incorporated, to the bowl she's now mixing for you.

Using whatever scooping mechanism you have available, dole out cookie-sized portions onto baking sheets lined with parchment paper.  Get into an argument over whose cookies will be superior; assume yours will be.  Place your cookie sheet on the lower rack, after graciously offering your sister the upper rack.  Because you're classy like that.

Bake for 15 minutes.  Notice that the directions say 20 minutes, and stick them back in for another 5 minutes.  Inspect your cookie sheet.

Inspect your sister's.

Claim victory.

Put them on a wire rack and try to wait until they're cool enough to eat.