Oatmeal Cookies

 

Today I had some time to myself so I spent part of my afternoon in the kitchen "with" my Grandmother Ruth.  I was delighted to find she had a recipe for Oatmeal Cookies in her old green box that looked like it would be quite to my liking.

 

Having only known Ruth when I was a young child, I allow myself to imagine a lot of things.  It's easy to idealize someone after they die, and I try not to do that.  I have more of a running list of things I'd ask, especially now that I'm pregnant again.  I want to know about her pregnancies and labors, pivotal times in a woman's life.  In reality, the closest I can get is what kind of oatmeal cookies she liked, well, so be it.

 

While I baked, I thought about what I do know about Ruth.  She had waited until after World War II to start a family, a somewhat surprising choice for a woman of her era.  She was 34 when my mother was born, and 39 when she had my Uncle.  I'm not sure what kind of looks she might have gotten as an "older" pregnant mother in those days.  I suspect she was secure in herself and didn't care what people thought. 

As I age, I hope I'm getting closer to the type of grace that I believe my mother and grandmother had.  The kind of grace that brings acceptance and a certain capacity to deal with things head on and get through challenges with poise.  I realize now as an adult, that life brings plenty of these opportunities.  There will be challenges until the very end, and even that prospect we can face with a certain amount of grace.  

 

So this was my pensive kind of afternoon.  But there were also cookies.  I am extremely partial to cookies with walnuts, and I will always choose a cookie without raisins.  It must be an idiosyncrasy of mine, because I know some people adore raisins in their oatmeal cookies.  To me, these are simple and satisfying.  I'm hoping they stick around long enough to be packed up for a picnic on one of these beautiful spring evenings.  And if they remind me to be graceful, well, all the better. 

Oatmeal Cookies
Makes about 2 dozen

1 cup shortening (or margarine, butter or a combination half/half)
1 cup white sugar
1/2 cup brown sugar
1 eggs
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1 1/2 cups quick oats (I processed regular oats quickly in the food processor)
3/4 cup Grape nuts cereal or chopped walnuts
1 teaspoon vanilla

Cream together the shortening and sugars with an electric mixer and add one beaten egg.
Sift together the flour, baking soda and cinnamon and add to the shortening mixture.
Then add the oats, grape nuts or walnuts and vanilla.
Chill for one hour in the refrigerator.
Preheat oven to 350.
Roll walnut-sized pieces in your hands, then dip in granulated sugar and flatten as you place on a greased cookie sheet. (Or you can line with parchment.)
Bake for 12-15 minutes.

Building "my community" and other small projects

I'm in the habit of making new friends, and tend to do so quickly each time we move. I may come across as overly forward, but I'm OK with that. People can take it or leave it, and they do. I may live in a big city but I happen to like simple human interaction, so I go about building community however I can. That's where these cookies come in.

We live above a bar. We're lucky that the owners and clientele are a nice bunch of people, very courteous (they'll take our packages for us since we don't have a doorman) and eager to greet us as we come and go from the building. So recently when I got to baking these cookies, I brought down a plate and was told they disappeared like "hotcakes." Exactly what I like to hear, since I can't be expected to finish off a big batch of rich, buttery cookies on my own. A plate of cookies now and then doesn't cost me much, but the pay back is large. Back in Rome I had built up a series of friends around the community, like my butchers. I fully intend on building a similar lot here in New York. People I can exchange a few words, laughs, or smiles with on a weekly basis. It's the familiar faces that make a big city seem like a small town.

This cookie recipe is part of a small project that has been following me around the globe for years. It has been carefully packed away on four moves, sailed back and forth across the Atlantic ocean several times, wrapped up and nestled into boxes along side all our worldly belongings. Over the years I've looked over the recipes one by one, thinking I should really do something with them. They are my grandmother's recipes; that would be Ruth.

I'm not sure what spoke to me about these nut thins or why I chose them as a starting point. Many of Ruth's recipes are not very detailed. She hadn't specified what kind of nuts to use so I decided on both walnuts and pecans. Some of her recipes lack thorough instructions, which tells me that she was a skilled cook and baker who had method down and could probably bake a batch of rugelach blindfolded. Like a good Jewish grandmother, I suppose.

I've always been fascinated with Ruth's box of recipes and have treated it like an heirloom. I'd like to think that two generations from now when the internet and computers as we know them become obsolete, I may have a granddaughter who loves to cook. Perhaps she'll peruse my blog, reading my stories, trying my recipes and maybe getting a glimpse of what life was like in "the old days."

I followed the recipe as written by Ruth, but couldn't resist adding 2 tablespoons of ground flax seeds, even though I'm pretty sure no one had ever heard of Omega 3 fatty acids in Ruth's day. Trust me, you would never know they are in there. Make these larger for chewier cookies, or smaller if you prefer, but I warn you that you may end up eating more that way.

Gnocchi di Magro- Wine and Olive Oil Cookies

We are lucky to be within walking distance to one of Rome's best enotecas (wine boutique). When I need wine for a recipe, Roman and I go in. Otherwise, I leave the wine purchases to P, who has spent much of the last 18 months learning about and enjoying Italy's finest wines. We're usually the first customers of the day, and they normally sell me something for under 5 euro, since it's for cooking. I neglected to buy wine for this recipe, so P had to open up a bottle of 2005 Brunello di Montalcino. Brunello tends to run a bit pricey, but it's worth it. We've seen it in the States for 70 dollars a bottle and up. We pay less than that here since we're not paying importation fees. At first, P cringed at using one of his good bottles to make cookies, but I explained that to get a good outcome, you have to use quality ingredients. When he tasted these, he agreed wholeheartedly that the brunello was a wise choice.

I discovered gnocchi di magro when I walked into the entoeca to buy red wine for my coda alla vaccinara and saw these bags of little, tiny nuggets of cookies sitting on the counter. Intrigued, never having tasted a dessert gnocco, I paid the whopping 8 euro for a bag, curious as ever to try them. I waited till we got home to pop one in my mouth. Made in Umbria, gnocchi di magro are about 30% olive oil, 30% red wine, flour, sugar and a bit of leavening agent. I visited the website of the producer, but did not find a recipe there. So, I googled and talked to some Italian food bloggers who directed me to a recipe that I think worked nicely. The original recipe from which I adapted this is for ciambelline, so I made a few in that dough-nutty shape. But what I really wanted was a tiny, bite size cookie to toss into my mouth (one after the other). What these cookies lack in looks, they make up for in decadent flavor and uniqueness. Diamonds in the rough.

Gnocchi di Magro

Yield will vary based on size of cookies you decide to make.

These are vegan by nature and they come together in a snap. You don't need to be at all fussy about the shape. Just form logs, slice into little bits, toss in sugar and bake. To me, part of their charm is that they are all shaped slightly differently, like things in the real world. They taste great along side a glass of wine, but would be equally good served with a strong hot chocolate, or better yet a rich chocolate mousse. Then again, their flavors would pair well with fruit or a plate of cheeses.

500 grams flour (17.5 ounces, or slightly over 2 cups)

scant cup of sugar (for the sugar, oil and wine, I used a dry cup measure and filled to about a centimeter below the rim)

scant cup of fruity olive oil

scant cup of high quality, dry red wine

leavening agent (I used a packet of cream of tartor, but you could substitute about 2 teaspoons of baking powder.)

Mix all the ingredients in a bowl, then transfer to the counter top and knead until nicely incorporated. Form small logs with your hands and slice off little bits. Toss these gently in more sugar and place on a baking sheet lined with a silpat or parchment paper. Bake at 375 degrees for 10-12 minutes, then turn them over and bake for another 10 minutes or so. Baking times will vary depending on your oven, but you want them to be slightly golden brown.

Brutti ma buoni

After living in a foreign country for a while, once the honeymoon phase is over, one starts to see things and people through a different, sometimes critical eye. Years ago, the first time I stepped foot in Italy, I thought everything and everyone was gorgeous and I romanticized that image for years in my head. It was summertime, and strolling through historic Rome in the light of dusk, the women were all so beautiful with their sun dresses, and their flowing hair, and the men were all groomed and dashing. When we returned to actually live here, I discovered that Italians come in all shapes and sizes just like anywhere else! Reality had just set in.

It's no secret, Italians are image conscious, and they do spend a lot of time and money on their appearances. Some have a different style than I am entirely comfortable with (what my husband and I call "peacocking") but it certainly makes for some interesting people watching.

So, perhaps it's fitting for this country to have a cookie known as by the descriptive name "ugly, but good." When I first discovered these cookies I was delighted and intrigued, because the linguist in me loves the obvious names Italians sometimes give to food. Ever heard of maltagliati? "Badly-cut pasta." I finally set out to make them based on their name alone. They are a gem of a cookie. No butter, a negligible amount of flour, essentially they are meringues. Mine turned out soft and chewy, a little crunch from the addition of chopped hazelnuts and mini-chocolate chips baked right in there- they are light tasting, wonderful little creatures. I'm not sure how these earned the name ugly, but I guess different cultures perceive beauty in different ways.

Brutti Ma Buoni

Makes 24 cookies.

These are simple and fast to make, and have a refreshingly short ingredient list. They can be made with or without chocolate, with hazelnuts or with a combination of hazelnuts and almonds. I cannot say that my recipe is very authentic, not having eaten the originals. I researched around the internet and concocted a batch based on the basic quantities of 4 egg whites, 1 cup of sugar. Some recipes used the lemon rind and a bit of cinnamon, others added amaretto liqueur. There were some without any flour and some with up to 3 tablespoons. Here's what I ended up using:

4 egg whites

1 cup sugar (I would decrease this next time to 3/4 cup.)

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

2 tablespoons flour

3/4 cup toasted hazelnuts

1/2 cup mini chocolate chips (optional)

Beat the egg whites with a hand-held mixer until soft peaks form. Slowly add the sugar and continue to beat until incorporated, about two minutes. Beat in the flour and the vanilla. Chop the hazelnuts and add to the egg whites, folding them in gently along with the chocolate chips if using. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or a silpat (if you have neither just butter the baking sheets.) Using a tablespoon or soup spoon, drop the cookie batter onto the sheets, smoothing each slightly with the back of the spoon (or leave a few peaks so you can call them ugly.) Bake in a 300 degree oven for 25-30 minutes. Cool on the baking sheets for a few minutes before carefully removing with a spatula to continue cooling on racks.