Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies.

It has indeed been quite some time since I’ve sat down to write. You see, I’ve been doing a very adult thing. Something that is a bit of a headache and not a lot of fun. But alas, in the adult world, quite necessary.

I’ve been apartment hunting. Ah, yes. The fun times had by us grown ups.

I work a full time job, one that eats up most of my afternoon, evening hours. I have had to search for apartments at most times when people are asleep or at work. It has been hard to find a roommate who is ok with receiving an e-mail at three in the morning.

So all of my writing has been in e-mail form, begging someone to let me come live with them.

But now I have found a new apartment. And all is good again.

However, all of this apartment searching has left me in a bit of panic-mode.

Which makes me do crazy things like make brown butter and then throw it in some cookie batter.

It’s cool. That’s what all people do, right?

The good news is, while my personal life has been hanging on by a thread, my work life has been improving.

For the first time in three months, my boss told me “Great job,” when he shook up last Saturday night.

I cried. Not in front of him, don’t worry. But I did need to take a minute and shed a few tears. It was emotional.

After three months of being yelled at, criticized, pushed of line, and told I am not good enough, I finally feel like I have come over to the other side. And all that yelling and criticism has paid off. I see the point of it all now. Because I quickly learned the difference between the right way and the wrong way of doing things.

But I have digressed.

I baked brown butter chocolate chip cookies.

And you should make these too.

They are nutty, and dense, and gooey; everything a chocolate chip cookies should be.

Here’s the recipe. Give them a try now.

Brown Butter Chocolate Chip Cookies

Adapted from Cook’s Illustrated and Beth T.

makes about 16 cookies

1 3/4 c all-purpose flour

1/2 tsp baking soda

14 tbsp unsalted butter (1 3/4 sticks)

1/2 c white sugar

3/4 c packed brown sugar (recipe suggests dark brown, but light brown is also acceptable)

1 tsp salt

2 tsp vanilla

1 large egg

1 large egg yolk

1 1/4 c chocolate chips

Preheat oven to 375 and line two large baking sheets with parchment paper.

Whisk together the flour and baking soda in a medium bowl.

Put 10 tbsp of the butter in a medium skillet set over medium high heat. Allow the butter to melt for 2 minutes and begin to swirl it around the pan, allowing it to brown. Keep the butter moving so it doesn’t burn. You can do this by moving the pan or using a whisk. You want to get all those little fat particles nice and brown.

Browning should take about 3 minutes and you’ll know it’s done when it smells nutty and it has a dark golden brown color. Remove the pan from the heat. Add the remaining 4 tbsp of cold butter to the melted butter, and stir gently until it is melted. Allow to cool down, about one minute.

Add the white sugar, brown sugar, vanilla and salt to the butter and whisk the ingredients together. At this point make sure your mixture is cool. When you add your eggs, you do not want to cook them. Add the egg and egg yolk and whisk again until mixture is smooth, 30 seconds. Allow the batter to rest for 3 minutes, then whisk for 30 seconds more. Do this two more times; the end result should be thick and shiny.

Add the flour mixture and stir until just combined, about 1 minute. Stir in you chocolate chips.

Cover batter and cool in refrigerator for 30 minutes to 24 hours. I like to let it chill over night, sometimes however, I can’t wait that long.

Form each cookie with roughly 3 tbsp of dough (I like to use an ice cream scoop for this). Place cookies 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets and bake one tray at a time, 10 to 14 minutes, on the middle rack of your oven. Rotate baking sheet after 5 minutes and check the cookies at 10; you want them to be golden brown and set around the edges, but puffy in the middle. My oven only took about 11 minutes for this so keep an eye on those babies!

Allow to cool on the pan for 1 to 2 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Pour yourself a glass of milk and take a heaping bite!

Chapter Five, Panfilo.

I have come to realize that many of my posts probably seem quite upsetting to outsiders. This is not my intention.

You see, in the restaurant world, feeling exhausted and defeated; relentlessly trying to impress others; always pushing harder; and whatever else have you, is all part of the job. We never stop working, never stop pushing, always, always can do better.

Our work is true work. Not that any job is easy. Our work is just, pure labor. You are on your feet all day and night, your hours are out of the ordinary, and you are constantly in pain. My legs feel as if I have run a marathon. Every morning I wake up and have a new ailment. My boyfriend was recently at the doctor for a torn ligament in his shoulder. Just from work. Torn ligaments from cooking.

The thing is, and here it is, this is what keeps us going.

Cooks are not your ordinary type of people. We thrive off the heat, pain, pressure. It’s where we find our peace, our mojo, our power.

So although I might seem disheartened at times, I am truly in my element.

And now, an uplifting story for you all. An example of how glorious my profession can in fact be. Yes, I actually have one.

My favorite part of working in a restaurant is the team-work. Everyone: cooks, bakers, chefs, dishwashers, bus boys, servers; we all come together for one perfect experience. We bring the diner a few hours of bliss. Good service, beautiful dishes, a delectable meal for your palette. We are all a team. And some nights more this is more evident than others.

Last night was in fact, my best night at work yet.

It started out slow, as most Tuesday nights do. It was my boss’s first night back at work after his weekend. And I was nervously trying to perfect everything to avoid his disappointment.

In comes our first ticket. The second. The third. Fourth, fifth, sixth….

Folks, they did not stop.

It was 8:00 and it seemed as if everyone in San Francisco had a sweet tooth.

We had large tables. Parties. And people at the bar who were demanding desserts.

The printer did not stop. My boss and I even looked around, wondering if this could be a joke. He even had to refill the paper at one point.

The printer kept going off.

“Fire two beignets.”

“Five beignets all day.”

“Six beignets, fire three pot de cremes, two chocolate, one cheesecake, three pound cake…”

My boss shouted off the orders and I scurried to find room to drop the plates.

I cannot tell you what happened in that half an hour but dishes went down so mechanically, so beautifully.

We both plated desserts as if conducting an orchestra. It was magic.

My arms were working so smoothly, my brain did not even have to think.

I no longer felt sick, tired, or nervous. Everything played out as if I had been practicing all my life.

I took deep breaths, placed desserts on plates, quennelled ice cream, and handed dishes off to servers.

I did not look up for those thirty minutes. Trusted my boss to read the tickets. He trusted me to pull the right plates.

At the end of those thirty minutes, when I looked up for the first time, I saw our executive chef behind me. Watching our concerto play out.

“He was freaking out.” My boss later informed me. “Everyone was.”

I could just hear them, “Pastry is going down tonight!”

But we proved them wrong.

“That was good.” My boss told me, “Perfect timing.”

Compliments are rare with him. I took a deep breath. Ran to the bathroom to compose myself. I felt like I could cry for hours I was so happy with the evening.

I walked back into the kitchen for our second wave. And the night did not stop once. We kept getting major hits like the first. And kept producing magic.

Later that evening our chef sent us back food. A major “thank you” in the kitchen.

These nights are what make my career worth it. Is this how Beethoven felt, years of composing music for one night when he unveiled it to the world? Well, he probably got more glory from his music. But it was a fantastic night. Awesome.

Hopefully I will have more like it. When the team comes together and works as one.

Now That I’m A Cook…

I rarely see the sunrise (unless coming home from a late night).

Breakfast is something eaten late-night, after work.

Brunch is a foreign idea to me.

I am rarely up before noon.

I spend my money on kitchen equipment, not clothes.

My dishes are always somehow dirty.

Laundry is unfamiliar to me.

Sunday funday means nothing to me.

Hulu is my best friend (since I work through all television shows).

My nails have seen better days.

I am constantly recovering from a burn on my arm.

My hair is never done.

My makeup is acquiring dust.

I dream of days someone else cooks for me.

I always need more sleep.

My body feels like it ran a marathon, constantly.

Blueberry-Sour Cherry Pie With Graham Cracker Crust.

In the summer months, I feel pies are quite the staple. Summer fruits make a delicious filling and can often be baked with minimal oven time.

In San Francisco especially, the summer fruits are so perfectly ripe you need to add very little sugar to bring out their natural sweetness. Plus it is quite chilly here and a warm pie is the perfect ending to a cool “summer” night.

Yesterday I had an argument with a friend about pie crusts. He stated that you could not tell the difference between a homemade pie crust and a store bought one.

Oh contraire, my friend.

Folks, part of the fun in pie-making is making the actual crust. It is therapeutic. I promise you. We always want to rush, rush rush. When making a pie crust, you must have patience. It takes time, dedication, and a whole lot of love.

You also can most certainly taste the difference.

He also asked me why his pie had so much “liquid” in the end.

Ok, peoeple. Here’s the thing when using fresh fruit to make a pie. You want it to have that delicious gooey-ness in the end that those store bought pies have, yes? You also want it to hold together so when you cut it everything doesn’t come flying out. Yes.

So the secret, as we all know, is to use corn starch. However, do you know the secret to using corn starch? You must cook it first. If not, you will have that starch-y taste. You also will not activate the corn starch to get it to thicken up your pie. So therefore, in the end, you will get a loose, starchy mess. No one wants that.

You need to head up your berries, corn starch, and lil’ bit of sugar first. This is the secret. Here, I will walk you through it.

Graham Cracker Crust

Makes 8 servings.

Adapted from Nabisco Honey Maid Graham Cracker Crust

1 1/2 cups Honey Maid Graham Cracker Crumbs

1/4 cup Granulated Sugar and Brown Sugar (I used half and half of each)

pinch of sea salt

4 tbsp. unsalted butter, melted

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Whisk together crumbs, sugars, and salt.

Stir in melted butter. Mixture should be crumbly.

Pour into 9-inch pie dish. Using a spoon, press down on crumbs, evenly covering the bottom and sides.

Chill in freezer for ten minutes. This will firm the butter, making for a more crispy shell.

Bake for 10 to 15 minutes, until crust in golden brown. Let cool completely.

Blueberry and Cherry Filling

Adapted from The Craft of Baking by Karen Demasco.

5 cups fresh blueberries and cherries (I only used about 1.5 cups of cherries. Pitting them is the worst. I got tired of it.)

1/2 cup sugar

3 tbsp. cornstarch

In a medium bowl, combine 3 cups of berry mixture with the sugar and cornstarch. Using a fork, mash up the mixture to bring out the juice.

Let sit for 15 minutes to macerate.

Transfer mixture to a medium saucepan. Cook over medium heat for ten minutes.

Be sure to stir frequently (I used a spatula) to make sure you don’t get anything stuck at the bottom of the pot. Taste the mixture throughout the cooking process. In the beginning you will taste the corn starch. Once it starts to thicken you will notice that starch taste fades. This is how you can tell it is done.

Spoon into graham cracker crust and spread evenly.

Add the remaining berries to the top.

Let cool. Take one heaping slice and enjoy with some vanilla ice cream.

The Best Cup Of Coffee.

That is correct, I am going to give instructions on how to make the greatest cup of coffee. Ever.

My father informed me I need some more positive posts.

Well, coffee makes me pretty darn happy. So I thought I would share my insight on the creation of a great cup of joe.

Step One: Buy a french press. Throw out whatever electric coffee maker you have. It is just taking up space. It is not a time saver. It will only break after some time. And cost you more money. Whatever you think is a good cup of coffee. You are wrong.

A french press is indeed the way to go. Folks, I did not know good coffee until I tried french press coffee. It is like a meal unto itself. Please indulge yourself.

Step Two: I use real milk. Milk with fat in it. Do not use skim, it will only ruin your coffee. I know this after many years of experience. I like 2% milk in my coffee. Not enough fat to stop your heart. Just enough to warm your soul.

Step Three: I like four cups of water to three tablespoons of ground coffee. Utter deliciousness, people. I would not lie to you. This is the killer combination.

Step Four: If you’re feeling especially daring, throw in a pinch, or three, of sugar. I like a little sweetness in my coffee. I also love the bitterness of coffee. Therefore, it is not necessary to sweeten your coffee in excess. Coffee is supposed to be dark and bitter. If you do not like this combination, you do not like coffee.

Step Five: Warm your milk. Really. Warm it before you throw it in with the coffee. It’s a heck of a lot better.

Step Six: Throw it all in there. Add the hot water. Press baby, press.

Tips to using a french press? Once you add your boiling water to your coffee grounds, let them sit. This little tidbit the boy shared with me. Apparently the water has a chance to soak up some extra coffee goodness. It really does taste better. I like to wait about three minutes before I “press” my coffee. The boy waits longer. I am impatient.

When all ingredients are combined in your favorite coffee mug (Dad, please send me mine!), take one big sip and sit back and enjoy. I like to stare out at my California garden in the California sun. Bliss. Utter bliss.

Oh, and one last word of advice? Enjoy the grit at the bottom of the cup. It is the best part. No fake.

One Step Forward, Two Steps Back.

For the past two nights at work I have been able to see how all the pressure on me is paying off.

I’ve been moving faster, honing in on my skills, and talking less.

My boss has had far fewer comments to say to me and more trouble finding faults in my work.

I haven’t thought “I’m quitting” in the past four days. Success.

Last night, before I left for my “weekend,” my boss gave me my first review.

Hold up. We get… report cards… at work? Yes, yes we do.

There were far too many checks in the “Almost Meets Expectations” boxes and far too few in “Exceeds Expectations.” Most of my “grades” were “Meets Expectations.”

Those of you who know me know, I go for the best. I want “Exceeds” and nothing else.

So when I saw my colorful “report card” which ranged from high to low, to very low, I immediately became hard on myself once again.

“What can I do to be better?”I asked repeatedly.

My boss assured me that my other coworkers, who have worked in the field a good two years more than myself, were receiving the same exact reviews.

It’s true, I saw their “report cards.” (I’m so nosey, I won’t lie.)

This frustrated me immediately.

Are you telling me that no matter how hard I try, how many hours I work, how “perfect” I might think I am; I can always, always be better?

Will I ever “Exceed Expectations”?

In this field I always feel defeated. And last night it was no different.

So what did I do? I baked a cake.

Well, first I slept for ten hours and dreamt of days when I received A’s and my mentors thought I was the best of the best.

Then I woke up and baked a cake.

Not just any cake, no.

I baked a cake with some of my favorite ingredients.

Beer.

Honey.

Can you get much better?

Well, probably. But the contents in my fridge are to the bare minimums.

Yes, yes I do have beer in my fridge.

I don’t have milk, fruit, or any vegetables.

But beer, beer I have.

Once this puppy comes out of the oven, and I have eaten it all, I will share with you all.

Until then, I leave you with this… It is my sister and I last fall. It makes me smile.

Katie’s Brain… At Work.

For today’s post I thought I would give you a little insight in a typical day at work for me.

You see, for awhile I thought that the things I felt during a night at work meant I didn’t belong in this field.

“I am quitting tonight” is a constant thought.

Turns out, I am just another cook at work in a kitchen.

The first order of business when walking into the kitchen is to figure out if your chef is in a good or bad mood. My nerves come into play with this one. I kid you not, my heart pounds when I turn the corner into the kitchen.

You see, if your chef is in a bad mood, your entire night can go down the gutter.I am, after all,  his primary source of relief. And I will be tortured for the entire night.

For instance, one night I had to candy mint leaves for the entire night. This is not an exciting task, folks. Your mind usually wanders, fingers get sticky, you get angry very quickly.

But I digress.

Step One: Find out mood of chef. I usually do this by walking into the kitchen and saying a bright and cheery, “Hi Chef!”

His response can be, “Hey, how are you?”, “Hey!”, “Hi.”, “What the f**k were you guys doing last night?”, “This mise-en-place sucks.”, “Why are you so late?” Or even just a grunt.

Step Two: Assess situation of the kitchen. If it is your Monday, there is a good chance that you are left “in the weeds” and must do about three hours worth of prep work in an hour and a half. At this point, you curse the person who worked at the station the night before and swear to glare at them profusely when you see them next.

Thus, Step Two, is to estimate about how much work you have for the evening. Usually “Oh shit” comes to mind pretty quickly. And you begin to get a-movin’.

Step Three: Read the menu, figure out changes, and hope they are in your favor. A new ice cream? A new cheese? How will it fit on the plate? Is it easy to quenelle (a form of ice cream scooping I have come to hate. My days at Ben and Jerrys did not prepare me well.)? Is this new cheese hard to cut? Will you spend an extra thirty seconds each night you need to get it on the plate? Will your chef get angry at you for how you work with it? Answer to these questions: Heck, yes.

Now, usually while you are preparing for the day, Chef will come up and criticize something.

“What are you doing?”

“What the f**k us that?”

“Who do you think you are?”

“Move faster.”

You begin to sweat, heart pounds, you feel the heat. Then you look over at your chef who is listening to music, reading e-mails, drinking some wine. He’s really not too concerned at all. You realize you are part of his entertainment. Torturing you, that is.

The night usually begins at some point here. You can hear the kitchen getting noisier, people start shouting, and everyone is moving a little faster. For pastry, this is the calm before the storm. You see, we are still clear of anything. And I am still prepping. But you just know “shit” is going to hit the fan soon.

And once that first ticket comes through, you just pray you’re going to be able to keep up for the night. Always move quickly, never look at the clock. Keep your head down and hope your chef is happy with your work.

Ha. At some point, your chef has something to say. Nothing is ever perfect. Ever. Usually mid-night he will change his mind of how he wants something plated. This is your fault, of course. Why did you not see this coming?

Your chef gets a little antsy, worried about the evening. His trust for you dwindles. And you begin to lose the confidence you so crucially need to make it through the night.

“This is it, I’m going to quit. I’m so done. I’m not doing this anymore. What’s so wrong with a desk job anyway? Maybe I can marry wealthy….”

This is when you lose it. The tickets do not stop coming through. Your chef is looking over you shoulder, scowling. And you find release in imagining yourself yelling “I QUIT!”

Once this wave ends, usually around 9:30, I will run to the bathroom. Chances are, I have not left the kitchen since arriving at 3:15. A break is a must.

A quick look in the mirror, talk yourself back up, and you are ready for the last three hours of the night. The next wave isn’t as bad. Scrubbing down the station is the worst part of the night. You believe you can make it through.

However, usually your chef has more anger to take out on you. Things get sloppy. You are not cleaning right. Around 12:15 (I am only supposed to work until 12), he shares some lovely task you still have to do for the evening. He is also probably in street clothes already drinking a few cervesas and ready to go party.

“Scrub down the freezer.”

“Scrub the grease off the ceiling.”

“Clean out the deep fryer.”

“Move all of the equipment and scrub down each shelf.”

At this point I usually melt into a puddle and just give up. This is the career I picked. I need to take all of this, and use it to make me stronger. It’s a game. It’s just the lifestyle. Every chef goes through it. Maybe this is what makes us great. Tear you down, build you back up.

So to sum up the evening. My thoughts are filled with:

“Oh no”

“Oh shit”

“Crap, crap, crap”

“I’m quitting!”

“This is it, no more. I can’t take it.”

“You can do it!”

“You got this, girl!”

“I don’t want to do this.”

“I’m so tired.”

“I need a drink.”

Sounds like a typical day to anyone, right?

Five Months.

Five months ago I decided to change my life.

Five months ago, on this day, I decided to pick up and move accross the country.

No idea what life would hold for me, but I knew I needed a change.

In one week, I had an apartment.

Three weeks later my life was (messily) packed into boxes and I was saying my goodbyes.

During one of the worst snow storms I have seen, might I add.

On March first I docked in San Francisco and knew all of two people.

One week later I had a new boy in my life.

Two weeks later I had a social life.

One month and I had a job, a love life, and a new family.

Two months and I was jobless and sick with the flu.

One week after losing my job my cousin, only a year older than myself, died.

After that I was “celebrating” my 25th birthday.

Jobless, missing home, and on that 25th birthday, I became newly single.

The month of April was like one hit after the next.

Fired for the first time.

Losing a family member.

Losing a boyfriend.

Quickly things changed.

Three months after moving to San Francisco I had two new jobs in restaurants I never thought I would work in.

I quickly developed a new love interest. And found a person inside myself I never knew existed.

I was courageous, I was talented, and I was loving.

Four months after moving to San Francisco I had a boyfriend, an incredible job, and some new inspiring friends.

I realize that this is not a lot of time. But my life has changed so much in the past five months I am exhausted and humbled.

Life is ever-changing. My world is expanding. And I am trying to loosen the reigns and enjoy the ride.

I still have no idea where life will take me. And when I sit down and actually think about everything that life has brought me, and taken away from me, in the past five months, I feel tired.

I am excited to celebrate my six month anniversary with San Francisco. Because in six months, I could have a whole new story to tell you.

Don’t Take It Personally.

Lately my life has kept me away from my laptop. In the past week I have not spent more than thirty minutes in front of this screen.

I now sit here with a bag of rice cakes and freshly pressed coffee. I should be able to sit still for 30+ minutes and write this new post.

Today I would like to talk about work life. Specifically, being the underdog. The low man on the totem pole.

As many of you know, I work in a restaurant here in San Francisco. And due to the fact that I am fresh out of culinary school and a new hire, I am very, very low on that totem pole.

I have also been blessed with patient, soft-spoken bosses.

My first boss was more worried with my well-being than the work I produced. I see now that is not very realistic. He used to encourage me to take personal days off. Days to re-group and make sure I was emotionally okay.

That does not fly in the restaurant world. No sir.

I am one of two girls in my kitchen. Two.

And I have quickly learned that many people who are drawn to the culinary world were unable to make it, socially, in any other world.

Please do not get me wrong, the people who work in my kitchen are extremely talented and I feel blessed every single day to work beside them. I am constantly in awe of the art they produce. The dedication the people have in my kitchen is inspiring.

My boss is what one might call a “Culinary Genius.”

I would love to work beside him for as long as possible and soak up all of his knowledge.

But I don’t even know half of the process it takes for him to develop some of the desserts on our menu.

My boss has, what people might call, a temper.

I grew up with a father who has quite the temper. I am “used to it.” If possible.

I have learned that when men get angry, stressed out, nervous, scared, whatever; men take it out on the person closest to them.

Women, we cry. Or at least I do. I sit on my kitchen floor and have myself a nice little pity party. And then I stand up, feeling better, and face my fears head-on.

The men in my life choose another method. They get angry, frustrated, fed up with me. They shut down. Fail to communicate. They make me pay.

And this makes me cry. Quite literally. Why?

I am a people pleaser.

My goal in life is to make the people around me happy.

This is why I bake. Sugar and butter make people smile.

So when my father, my boss, my boyfriend gets angry at me I instantly get upset.

I aim to please them. Why would you possibly get angry at me?

“Don’t take it personally.”

This is what everyone tells me.

Well folks, after 25 years of hearing this I still have not mastered it.

Do you know what I’m saying?

How can I not take it personally?

You are taking your anger out on me.

I am criticized, scolded, and emotionally smothered.

I do not comprehend how I am not to take this personally.

But it will make me stronger, better, right?

I’m not quite sure.

After 25 years of dealing with tempermental men I still cry like a baby in the bathroom.

I still question myself, lose confidence, and fear the worst.

But don’t get me wrong.

I love these men in my life and will never stop trying to please them.

Take your anger out on me, and I will probably respect you more.

I will take my angst out in the kitchen.

And bake you something sugary to make you feel better.

baking adventures with bourbon.

Are you a whiskey-hater? It’s ok, don’t deny it. I used to be one as well.

My recent move to California changed this.

Now I know, California is the home of the Wine-o’s. The notorious Napa Valley wine region is my backyard. And I do love wine as well, do not get me wrong. I have spent many nights finishing off a bottle of some delicious vino. But whiskey is my new love.

Today my post will be dedicated to Bourbon. Why bourbon? Because it is American made, of course. And while we are all closely watching the world cup, cheering on the good old U-S-A, I will be faithful to all American made products.

Bourbon is a mixture of whiskeys, made primarily from corn. Did you know that, like wine, whiskey is also aged. Bourbon-tasting has even become just as popular as wine tasting. You know you’re curious now, don’t lie to me, folks. Go find your nearest distillery and jump on the whiskey-loving bandwagon!

To me, bourbon has a sweet, but bitter taste. To me, the scent is pungent and deep, similarly to maple syrup. The taste is quite distinctive. Strong but easy to swallow. And when you use it with baking, it adds a certain tang to your products that you cannot get from anything else.

Today I experimented with cookies and scones. Cookies, scones, where can you go wrong?

First I made blueberry oatmeal scones with a maple-bourgona glaze. These puppies do not have too much sugar in them so don’t get your hopes up. I made the glaze simply by adding small amounts of maple syrup and bourbon to powdered sugar until I got the smooth consisentency I needed. Glazes are pretty simple in that you can make them to your liking. I like a thin glaze that adds more of a flavor than anything else. You can make your glaze thicker, more like a frosting should you prefer.

Holy yum, were these suckers good. I sincerely recommend you try some maple-bourbon glaze on well, anything! Its the perfect bitter-sweet combination that will make your mouth water and your belly thank you.

Next up were some cookie experiements. Those of you who have been to San Francisco are probably familiar with Humphrey Slocomb ice cream. Now, our friend Humphrey has generated quite a stir with his inventive ice cream flavors that make your head spin a bit. For instance, Balsamic Vinegar ice cream. Yep, that’s right. He makes it. He also makes my personal favorite, Secret Breakfast ice cream. This folks is a combination of corn flakes and bourbon. You know you want it.

So, I tried to make this ice cream in cookie form. Now granted when you cook off your bourbon you’re going to lose a bit of the bite. But you still have it’s distintive flavor. The end result, a crunchy morsel that explodes in your mouth.

You want to give it a try? Yes, yes you do. Go for it folks, and thank me later.

Oatmeal Blueberry Scones with Maple-Bourbon Glaze.

adapted from Joy the Baker

http://www.joythebaker.com/blog/2009/09/oatmeal-raspberry-scones/#more-1660

makes 12 scones

1 large egg

1/2 cup cold buttermilk

1 2/3 cups all-purpose flour

1 1/3 cups old fashioned oats

1/3 cup sugar

1 Tablespoon baking powder

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg

1 stick plus 2 Tablespoons (10 tablespoons) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes.

1/2 to 3/4 cup fresh or frozen blueberries

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and place a rack in the center of the oven.  Line a baking sheet with parchment paper or foil and set aside.

Stir the eggs and buttermilk together and set aside.

Whisk together the flour, oats, sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg in a large bowl.  Cut the butter into small pieces and quickly rub the butter into the dry ingredients until it is pebbly.

Pour the egg and buttermilk miture over the dry ingredients and stir with a fork just until the dough, which will be wet and sticky, comes together.  Add the berries.

Still in the bowl, gently knead the dough by hand or turn it with a rubber spatula about 8 to 10 times.  Turn the dough out onto a lightly floured work surface and press the dough until you have a long log that is about an inch thick.  Using a chef’s knife, cut triangles from the dough and place onto baking sheet.

Bake for 20 minutes or until their tops are golden and firmish.  Transfer them to a rack and col for 10 minutes before serving, or wait for the scones to cool to room temperature.

Glaze:

1/2 cup powdered sugar

2 tbs Bourbon

2 tbs maple syrup

Continue to flavor until you reach the desired consisentency.

Lightly speckle glaze over cooled scones.

Bourbon and Cereal Chocolate Chip Cookies

Adapted from At Home with Magnolia: Classic American Recipes from the Owner of Magnolia Bakery

2 cups all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 – 1 teaspoon salt

2 sticks unsalted butter, softened

1/2 cup granulated sugar

1/2 cup firmly packed dark brown sugar

1 large egg

1 teaspoon vanilla

1/4 cup bourbon

1 1/2 cups cereal of your choice (I used granola and corn flakes)

2/3 cups chocolate chips or coarsely chopped chocolate

Combine flour, baking soda, and salt in a small bowl. Set aside.

In a mixing bowl, beat butter and sugars until creamy consistency, about two minutes. Add egg and vanilla. Beat until light and fluffy. Gradually add flour mixture until combined. Add in whiskey. Take off mixture and stir in cereal and chocolate.

Once all ingredients are incorporated, cover with plastic wrap and chill for 1 hour or up to 24 hours

When ready to bake, preheat oven to 350.

Remove batter from refrigerator and drop rounded tablespoons onto a greased baking sheet.

Bake for 12-14 minutes until tops are golden brown.

Cool for 2 minutes on baking sheet and then transfer to wire wrack and cool completely.

Take one big bite and enjoy!