Now All We Need Is A Gang: Grandma's Old-Fashioned Apple Dumplings

I grew up in the 1970s, and cut my entertainment consumer teeth on the offerings of the Walt Disney Company. I saw everything, and loved it all. I didn't necessarily understand it all, but that's part of the fun of a Disney movie -- you can still laugh along. Take The Apple Dumpling Gang. I adored that movie! But... I didn't really know what apple dumplings were. In fact, I didn't have an apple dumpling until ...

Crap. I've never had an apple dumpling. Okay, we'll fix that! And, just because we can, I'll use a recipe from The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish (Chefly Husband suggests I can try it right away, if I just clean the kitchen! Love is strong in our household, but the cleaning instinct needs a little bit of a push here and there.).

Grandma's Old-Fashioned Apple Dumplings
Kristen Shawley

6 med. sized Granny Smith apples
2 c. flour
2 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
2/3 c. shortening
1/2 c. milk

Peel and core apples. Cut in half. For pastry, sift flour, baking powder and salt together. Cut in shortening, until particles are the size of small peas. Sprinkle milk over mixture and press together lightly, working dough only enough to hold together. Roll dough as for pastry and cut 12 squares and place 1/2 an apple on each. Fill cavity in apple with sugar and sprinkle with cinnamon. Pat dough around apple, to cover it completely. Fasten edges securely on top of apple. Place in baking pan and cover with sauce (recipe follows). Bake at 350° for 35 to 40 minutes. Baste every 15 minutes, during baking. (Unbaked dumplings with sauce may be frozen. If frozen, increase baking time to approximately 1 hour.)

Sauce:
2 c. brown sugar
2 c. water
1/4 c. butter
1/4 tsp. cinnamon

Combine brown sugar, water and cinnamon in a medium saucepan. Cook for 5 minutes; remove from heat and add butter. Stir until butter is melted.

According to Wikipedia, apple dumplings are a Northeastern thing -- so I don't feel so terrible that my Northwestern self grew up so deprived -- and that they are a common dessert but also breakfast.

Oooo, I'm a fan of hot pastry for breakfast. Hot pastry, with milk or ice cream. For breakfast. Hot, sauce-covered, sugary, healthful apples.

Setting A Man Trap: Blueberry Boy Bait

Okay, okay, once you see the size of the pan required, you may not believe that I chose this recipe based on the name and not the pan. But, really, when I found "Blueberry Boy Bait" in The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish, I first started giggling madly, then started thinking that I hadn't watched Gidget or Tammy and The Bachelor in far too long, and then that I really needed to post this recipe.

Blueberry Boy Bait
Ethel Buckel

2 c. all-purpose flour
1 1/2 c. sugar
2 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. salt
3/4 tsp. nutmeg
2/3 c. softened butter
1 c. milk
2 eggs
1 c. blueberries
1/4 c. sugar
1/2 tsp nutmeg

Cream butter and 1 1/2 cups sugar. Add eggs. Combine flour, baking powder, salt and nutmeg in a separate bowl. Add milk, alternately, with combined dry ingredients. Pour into 9 x 13-inch pan. Top with blueberries, 1/4 cup sugar and 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg. Bake at 350° for 40-50 minutes.

Despite the off-putting lack of serial commas, this is just a delightful recipe! I particularly like that instead of saying "1 3/4 c. sugar, divided" in the initial recipe list, they break it out for you, in order and volume of use. Some folks may prefer it the other way, but for me, a serial ingredient list is as important as a serial comma.

Serial commas: they're good enough for the U.S. G.P.O., they're good enough for you.

Back to the title. It seems like this is going to hav eto be something simple enough for a novice cook to whip together on her own (yes, "her"... I think it's safe to say that whomever came up with this recipe was pretty much trying to help a girl get her boy, though I wholeheartedly support boys using it to bait girls and girls using it to bait girls and so and so and so forth) without much supervision from her mother (yes, "mother" ... for the sake of the rest of this post, let's just role play and think that Mrs. Lawrence is trying to help Francie/Gidget to ensnare Jeffrey/Moondoggie -- embrace your 1959 teen romance). It should also be incredibly tasty. I'm surprised there's no vanilla or cinnamon to up the smell of the bait, but nutmeg -- so linked with pumpkin pie -- is going to bring a lot of good baking spice to the man trap.

We're in season for blueberries in the US, and I've seen some great buy-one-get-one-free specials at the grocery store. The pick-your-own farms around DC aren't open for blueberries yet; maybe later this summer I can cook the book on this one, with freshly-picked local (false) berries.

Even if you've already sprung a perfectly serviceable trap, why not try out the boy bait when next you need a 9 x 13 baked good? At the very least, file it away for Independence Day, where the blue will play nicely with some cut strawberries and vanilla ice cream.

Only Enough To Act As A Preservative: Bacardi Rum Cake

Yesterday, I shared my love of the 9 x 13-inch pan. Growing up, all cakes were made in this venerable dish. My sister's must-have birthday cake (Lemon Jell-O Cake, which I'll post when I do the Fishwives cookbook) was always the friendly rectangle. It was only much later in life that I read the full recipe and realized that the cake was supposed to be baked in a Bundt pan. Today's recipe from The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish says to use a Bundt, too -- but out of cakely familial loyalty, I'd be tempted to use the tried and true 9 x 13.

Bacardi Rum Cake
Linda Thomas

Cake:

1 c. chopped pecans or walnuts
1 pkg. yellow cake mix
1 sm. pkg. vanilla instant pudding
4 eggs
1/2 c. cold water
1/2 c. Wesson oil
1/2 c. Bacardi rum

Glaze:

1/4 lb. butter
1/4 c. water
1 c. white sugar
1/2 c. rum

Preheat oven to 325°. Grease and flour tube or bundt pan. Sprinkle nuts over bottom of pan. Mix all cake ingredients together over nuts. Pour batter over nuts. Bake 1 hour. Cool. Invert on serving plate. Prick top. Spoon or brush glaze evenly over top, allowing cake to absorb glaze. Glaze: Melt butter in saucepan. Stir in water and sugar. Boil 5 minutes, stirring constantly. Remove from heat. Stir in rum. *If using cake mix with pudding already in the mix, omit instant pudding, use 3 eggs instead of 4, use 1/3 cup oil instead of 1/2 cup.

Pudding: the great moisturizer of cake. I like the substitution hints here, as I bet they can be used for lots of other cake-doctoring recipes.

Some of you may not keep rum around the house. If you're one of those people, you might want to know how much, really, you need to buy. Well, a fifth of rum is 750 ml, which is about 25 ounces, or just over three cups. So, one regular-sized bottle of Bacardi is going to get you through this cake and two others (or this cake and several Cuba Libres). Should you go for a light rum, or a dark rum? I leave it to your personal tastes. If you don't think you have personal tastes when it comes to rum, then I suggest going for a light rum, so that your cake color is still light and lovely. You can up the amount of rum you use in the glaze (1/4 cup of rum brings more flavor to the cake than 1/4 cup of water, after all) if you want to have really rummy cake.

I remember my first rum cake (eating, not making). I was over at the Schrader's house, and Martha had made an apple rum cake. It was delicious, and I probably ate too much of it, especially considering that I was a kid. Remember: alcohol can cook out of dishes, and probably does cook out of the cake. However, it's NOT cooking out of the glaze. There's active, boozy rum here; do not serve to those who have medical, religious, or other reasons to avoid, well, Demon Rum.

Not to sound like a complete lush, but a rum cake (be it in a 9 x 13 or a Bundt) would be a great dish to take to your Memorial Day barbeque/picnic/potluck/what have you, if you're going to be around mostly-grown-ups. The pudding guarantees a moist cake, the Bacardi guarantees a delicious one.

Seven Similar Salads: Jell-O and Dairy

Memorial Day is fast upon us, and it's time to think about salads and sides to take to barbeques, picnics, and potlucks. I've always been a fan of Jell-O based salads, be they molded or unstructured. Thankfully, as my friend Heather pointed out, The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish offers up seven (seven!) similar salads, so we can take our pick of those that fit our needs/desires/fears/etc.

I'm In A Hurry Salad
Linda Buckel

1 (8-oz.) pkg. cottage cheese
1 sm. box orange Jello
1 sm. ctn. Cool Whip
1 can mandarin oranges
1 can pineapple

Mix all ingredients together and refrigerate.

I assume we're draining the liquid on the fruits here. If you're making this for a party that will have rum-fueled punch, I suggest reserving the liquid to throw in your punch bucket.

What?

Yes, I said "bucket." At my last (okay, "only") tiki party, I mixed up my rum punch in a big paint bucket. Worked great.

I'd be tempted to throw shredded coconut and bananas in here, too, but that might just be because I'm fondly remembering the tiki party. On to salad #2!

Jello Salad
Ruth Ann Beckman

1 (3-oz.) pkg. Jello (flavor of choice)
1 (3-oz.) pkg. cream cheese, softened
1 can crushed pineapple
1/3 c. sugar
Dash salt
1 pkg. Dream Whip, whipped

Combine Jello, pineapple, sugar and salt in a saucepan. Heat until Jello is dissolved; cool. Whip Dream Whip. Mix in cream cheese. Add pineapple mixture. Pour into mold.

And here, let's assume we're not draining the pineapple. I know, I'm being all sorts of guess-y about it, but I think the Jell-O needs some liquid to dissolve. Since this involves both cooking and setting, it doesn't get a pithy title like "I'm In A Hurry Salad," above. No, it's more of a "I Knew About This Potluck A Day In Advance, So Actually Did Something Requiring Some Planning" Salad. But what about when you're looking for something a little more festive?

Lutheran Recipe for Holiday Jello
Marvin Beckman
1 sm. pkg. green Jello
1 c. boiling water
1 sm. pkg. cream cheese

Mix these three ingredients together and let Jello set until fold stage. Whip 1 small carton of whipping cream. Add to Jello, along with 1 small can of crushed pineapple and just enough chopped walnuts. Chill and serve.

Hint: Do not use red Jello for this recipe!

...I wonder what happens when you use red Jell-O for this recipe? I also wonder if Marvin is husband, son, cousin, or some other relation to Ruth Ann, whose Jello salad looks to be a bit better documented. Why did Marvin leave out the whipping cream in his list of ingredients?

And what happens if you use red Jell-O?

Orange Jello Salad Dessert
Ethel Buckel

2 (3-oz.) pkgs. orange Jello
2 c. boiling water
1 sm. can frozen orange juice
1 sm. can mandarin oranges
1 med. can crushed pineapple
1 pkg. lemon pudding mix
1 c. milk
8 oz. Cool Whip
Chopped nuts

Dissolve Jello in boiling water. Add orange juice. When jelled, add one small can mandarin oranges, drained. Add pineapple, juice and all. When set, top with one package lemon pudding mix, made with one cup milk. Mix with 8 ounces Cool Whip. Top with chopped nuts. Makes 9 x 13-inch pan.

Blame it on my upbringing, but I automatically think "good food here" when I see something served up in a 9 x 13-inch pan. Salads. Cakes. Casseroles. Lasagnes. If you do it in a 9 x 13-incher, you are clearly thinking of feeding a crowd.

The pudding mix in the recipe is pretty clearly supposed to be instant pudding mix, which makes this a natural for using more than one Jell-O brand product in one recipe. Personally, I'd not be putting nuts on top -- too many of my friends are nut-allergic. I'm thinking crushed Nilla Wafers or graham crackers would add a crunchy component if you think one is missing from the toothless joy of this dessert.

I think the Buckels are orange Jell-O loyalists. I can get behind that. But, let's get back to that maligned red Jell-O...

Star Cranberry Salad
Lois Watson

2 c. ground raw cranberries
2 c. sugar
2 boxes red Jello
2 c. hot water
2 c. pineapple, drained and juice reserved
2 c. celery, cut fine
1 c. chopped walnuts

Mix the cranberries and sugar. Set aside. Mix the Jello into the hot water and pineapple juice until dissolved. Add cranberries. Mix in celery and walnuts. Refrigerate until thick. Best if made a day ahead.

Jell-O and celery, folks. Celery. In your Jell-O.

Maybe that's what happens when you start using red Jell-O. Unexpected vegetables start sneaking in and trying to come to the party. (Okay, actually, I suspect one shouldn't use red Jell-O in the previous recipe because the salad has no cranberries in it, and a holiday table with a red gelatinous salad should have cranberries...)

Not sure why this is "star" cranberry salad. Should one use a star-shaped mold? Is it the star of any buffet table it graces?

We'll close out the Jell-O parade with a salad that seems a lot like our first option at first glance.

That's It Salad
Opal Fazenbaker

1 pkg. Jello (any flavor)
1 sm. can crushed pineapple
1 sm. ctn. cottage cheese
1 sm. ctn. non-dairy whipped topping

Transfer pineapple to microwave-safe container and heat in microwave, about 90 seconds. Dissolve the Jello mix in the hot pineapple; let cool to room temperature. Add cottage cheese and mix well. Add the whipped topping and mix well again and that's it!

How's it different from "I'm In A Hurry"? Well, there's no mandarin oranges (I'm sure the recipe could take 'em, though, if stirred in at the same time as one of the white and creamy elements -- just drain first). Also, the heating and dissolving is going to give a different texture. As for me, I'll admit it -- I really do like salads that have Cool Whip and undissolved Jell-O powder. They remind me of my childhood, and they make me smile. If the idea of seeing grains of fake coloring and gelatin in your salad makes you a little squeamish, try "That's It," instead.

Bug Juice? No, Green Punch!

I had half a mind to be high-minded about the The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish recipe selections. I really thought I wanted to prove that community cookbooks were treasure troves of fabulous recipes you might otherwise never find.

And then I found Green Punch.

Green Punch
Lottie Brenneman

2 pkgs. lemon-lime Kool-Aid
1 (46-oz.) can pineapple juice
2 quts. water
1 qt. 7-Up or ginger ale
Mix together and add ginger ale or 7-Up last. Sherbert may be added.

Oh, hell, yes. It's nearly Memorial Day weekend, it's going to be in the mid-80s here in DC, and Green Punch? Green Punch sounds like icy cold perfection.

I'm assuming that the packages of Kool-Aid are the "add 1 cup of sugar" kinds...one envelope each, which would normally make 2 quarts of Kool-Aid. I also assume that, with the soda and the juice, there's no need at all to actually add sugar, so the omission in the ingredient list is not so much an omission as a nod to not developing diabetes. Personally, I find diet 7-Up and diet ginger ale to be perfectly acceptable substitutes for the full-sugar variety, so you could shave a couple hundred calories off every serving if you want to make a substitution.

Then again, on the same page, there's "Easy Punch," which has Kool-Aid, pineapple juice, water, 7-Up, ice cream and 3 cups of sugar. If you want to get your sugar high on, you certainly have options in The Fruit of the Spirit.

Green drinks make me think of camp (but in a good way), picnics, birthday parties, field days... It's the sort of thing that feels fancy when you're five. As summer comes on, I think that fancy-for-a-five-year-old is well worth embracing in our culinary endeavors. Cheers.

The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish; Poor Man's Crab Cakes

Last night, at a lovely supper with friends (pork roast, scalloped potatoes, roasted asparagus, pinot noir), our hostess took out The Fruit of the Spirit: 100th Anniversary of Bittinger Lutheran Parish (Morris Press, 2008). Seems her mom gave her this church cookbook, and she knew of my love for all things cookbook-y, so we started going through it. Community cookbooks can get a bad rap; people think everything's going to be "take four cans of this sodium bomb and twelve cans of this mushy veg and call it a casserole." There's so much more that can be found, though! Take the first recipe I stopped at:

Poor Man's Crab Cakes
Glenne Blocher

2 c. grated zucchini squash
1 c. bread crumbs (plain or Italian)
1 tsp. mayonnaise
1 T. Old Bay seasoning
2 eggs

Mix squash, bread crumbs, mayonnaise, Old Bay seasoning and eggs. Shape into small patties. Dip in flour. Fry until brown. Serve hot or cold.

I don't know that I'd bother calling it a crab cake, but this sounds darned tasty. And, though right now you'd probably have to go to the grocers for some zucchini, we're not so far from the bumper crop times where you'll be finding zucchini in big bags on your desk or stoop if you even mention in passing that you'd be willing to take some off a gardener friend's hands. File this away until you have a surplus, and have fun with it. Perhaps make a nice remoulade for dipping or garnish...

Chefly Husband says that he's never heard of a recipe that used 1 teaspoon of mayonnaise. "What's the point of 1 teaspoon of mayonnaise?" I kind of agree with him, and would be tempted to reduce the number of eggs and up the amount of mayo for taste purposes. It's worth tinkering with.

You can't find a copy of The Fruit of the Spirit through Amazon yet, but you can still get a copy for $10 from the fine folks of Bittinger Lutheran Parish in Bittinger, MD. It's out in Garrett County, Maryland. As my friend says, "You know, where Maryland gets skinny, and then gets fat again?" Garrett County.

This week, we'll look at the happy surprises in this community cookbook.

Wordle: 2007 Take One Cookbook...

Come back tomorrow, when Take One Cookbook... returns from a post-holiday stupor!

Mulled Wine with Honey and Orange

When I choose a book for Take One Cookbook, I spend some time going through it, flagging potential recipes with Post-it notes, trying to get a theme for the week, or to get balance between the courses to give the right sense of the book. It's a really relaxing task...sort of like planning a dinner party but without the need to clean the house. I like it very much.

I also like chucking the plans sometimes. I'd flagged nothing but cookies for this week, to jump of last week's candy, and yet... yesterday, I needed eggnog. With that diversion, I've freed myself to chuck the last o the cookie recipes from Christmas 101 and do another Christmasy punchbowl favorite.

When I was a teenager, every year I'd have a hayride, and my friends from choir and theater would come over, warm themselves on mulled cider, and go out either on a flat trailer pulled by my dad's tractor, or occasionally in a horse-drawn wagon. (In suburban Portland. No, really.) Now, I try to keep the tradition going, but adapted for Washington, DC, where I have no access to farm equipment. Every third Sunday of Advent (Pink Sunday, so named for the pink candle on the wreath that gets lit that day, or Gaudete Sunday -- gaudete meaning "rejoicing"), I gather friends and hit the neighborhood to sing whereever we can, and then come back for cookies, mulled cider, and the "grown up" version, mulled wine.

Mulled Wine with Honey and Orange

Makes 2 quarts, about 16 servings

Make Ahead: The wine is best prepared just before serving.

1 large seedless orange
12 whole cloves
12 allspice berries
Two 3-inch cinnamon sticks
3 cardamom pods, crushed (optional)
One 1 1/2-liter bottle fruity red wine, such as Merlot
1 cup honey
2/3 cup Grand Marnier or other orange-flavored liqueur

1. Using a vegetable peeler, remove the zest from the orange. Rinse and wring out a 12-inch square piece of cheesecloth. Wrap the orange zest, cloves, allspice, cinnamon sticks, and cardamom, if using, in the cheesecloth and tie with apiece of kitchen string. Cut the orange in half and squeeze the juice from the oragne. Set the juice aside.

2. In a large non-aluminum pot, combine the wine, honey, Grand Marnier, orange juice, and spice packet, stirring to dissolve the honey. Heat, stirring occasionally, over low heat until hot but not boiling, about 30 minutes. Transfer to a slow cooker set on Low and serve hot.

Do yourself a favor: if you're going to use a slow cooker, just do all your prep in that slow cooker. Transferring hot liquids from one vessel to another when it's not absolutely necessary is crazy.

Why do you need to avoid an aluminum pan? Aluminum reacts with acids, and you've got a lot of acid in this dish -- the wine, the oranges, the Grand Marnier. Use stainless, or if you've got an enameled pot, use that.

The honey I'd do to taste, rather than to measurement. You need to balance out the wine to make it, well, a punch.

I don't recommend having only a pot of mulled wine going; get another pot (how about that aluminum one you couldn't use for wine?) and mull apple cider. You can use the same general recipe, but leave out the wine and liquor. Add a touch of extra flavor by zesting and juicing a lemon.

When serving both mulled treats, try mixing the two in your glass. It's a modern day wassail, and it's darned tasty.

Tomorrow's Pink Sunday. I'll be mulling up a storm, and making a joyful noise with good friends. Cheers!

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Most of the time, when I want some seasonal 'nog, I get a quart from the grocery store, mix it half-and-half with some 2% milk, grate a little nutmeg on top if I'm feeling fancy, and consider myself nogged.

Sometimes, though, it's worth it to make the real deal, from scratch. If you're having people over (people who drink booze, that is... this is a boozified version), and haven't tried 'nogging, give this recipe from Christmas 101 a try.

Old-Fashioned Eggnog

Makes 3 quarts, about 12 servings

Make Ahead: Eggnog should be chilled at least 4 hours before serving, and served within 24 hours.

6 large eggs, separated
1 1/4 cups superfine sugar (see Note)
1 cup dark rum
1 cup brandy
1/3 cup bourbon
1 1/2 quarts heavy cream
1 pint vanilla ice cream, for serving
Freshly grated nutmeg, for serving

1. In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the egg yolks and the sugar until thick. Beat in the rum, brandy, and bourbon, then the cream.

2. In another large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, and using clean beaters, beat the egg whites until soft peaks form. Stir into the eggnog. Cover tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate until well chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight.

3. Transfer to a punch bowl. Using scissors, cut the container away from the ice cream, keeping the ice cream intact in one piece. Place the ice cream in the eggnog. Grate the nutmeg over the eggnog and serve immediately.

Amaretto Eggnog: Delete the bourbon. Substitute 1 cup Amaretto for the brandy. Decrease the superfine sugar to 1 cup. If desired, add 1/4 teaspoon almond extract. When serving, substitute toasted almond ice cream for the vanilla ice cream.

Note: To make your own superfine sugar, process regular granulated sugar, about 1/2 cup at a time, in a food processor or blender until finely ground. It will take 1 to 2 minutes per batch.

I suppose you could make this without the booze. You could. If you do that, replace the liquid with milk (or cream, if you're really going for thick, thick 'nog). However, if you don't have the booze, you'd best be extra super duper sure your eggs are fresh and clean before you use and crack 'em. Wash the shells before you crack. You don't want your festive 'nog to give anyone salmonella. The booze, by the way, doesn't make this a 100% safe dish. If you're immuno-compromised, including being on the nest, you should think twice about this. Actually, if you're immuno-compromised because you're on the nest, you should probably avoid all recipes that include more than a pint of liquor.

The more you know...

You can't wrap up the 'nog and mail it to far off friends, but somehow, it's just not the Christmas season without eggnog.

Or hot buttered rum.

Oooooh, yes. But we'll post about that on the 23rd.

Diane's Ultimate Thumbprints; a.k.a. Sonja Henie Cookies

When it comes to cookies, donuts, or sponge cake, I think the best can only be made better by adding jelly. Oh, for a jelly roll! Or a donut gushing with raspberry jam. Or, come Christmas time, a thumbprint cookie. They're delicious to eat, and fun to make (I mean, come on, any recipe that involves smooshing stuff is fun). This recipe Christmas 101 is a riff on the classic thumbprint:

Diane's Ultimate Thumbprints

Makes about 5 dozen cookies

Make Ahead: The cookies can be prepared up to 1 week ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature.

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup packed light or dark brown sugar
2 large eggs, separated
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 cups (6 ounces) walnuts
1/4 cup granulated sugar
Pinch of salt
2/3 cup fruit preserves, such as raspberry or apricot (see Note)

1. Position the racks in the top and bottom thirds of the oven and preheat to 350°F.

2. In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer on medium-high speed, beat the butter until creamy, about 1 minute. Add the brown sugar and beat until light in color and texture, about 2 minutes. Beat in the egg yolks, then the vanilla. Using a wooden spoon, gradually mix in the flour to make a soft dough. Using a scant tablespoon for each, roll the dough into 1-inch balls. Place the balls on a baking sheet and let stand in a cool place (near an open window in cold weather or in the refrigerator) until slightly chilled and firmed, about 10 minutes. (Don't skip this step -- the dough must be slightly chilled to make the holes in the dough that hold the preserve filling.)

3. In a food processor, pulse the walnuts and the granulated sugar until the walnuts are finely chopped. Set aside.

4. In a small bowl, beat the egg whites with the pinch of salt until foamy. Pour about one-third of the chopped walnut mixture into a shallow bowl. Dip each ball of dough in the egg whites, roll in the walnut mixture to coat, and place 1 inch apart on nonstick cookie sheets. Holding a ball of dough on the sheet with one hand, use the tip of your little finger of the other hand to press a 1/4-inch wide hole into the center, about 1/4 inch deep. (If you have long fingernails, use the inverted tip of a 1/4 inch-wide wooden spoon handle or a dowel.) If the ball cracks, just press the crack together to smooth. Repeat with the other balls of dough, gradually adding more of the walnut mixture to the shallow bowl as needed. (It is important to use the walnut mixture in batches, as it will collect moisture from the egg whites, and if used all at once, it will get so wet it won't adhere properly. You will probably have leftover chopped walnuts, but that's better than running out of them.)

5. Bake until the cookies feel set but not completely baked, about 10 minutes. Meanwhile, place the preserves in a small, self-sealing plastic bag and squeeze the preserves into one corner of the bag. Using scissors, snip off the corner of the bag to make an opening about 1/4 inch wide. When the cookies are set, remove them from the oven. Use the bag to pipe the preserves into the hole in each cookie. Return the cookies to the oven, switching the positions of the cookies from top to bottom and from front to back. Bake until the cookies are lightly browned, 5 to 8 more minutes. Cool on the baking sheets for 2 minutes. Transfer to wire cooling racks to cool completely. (The cookies can be prepared up to 1 week ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature.)

Note: Be sure to use preserves for the filling; jellies and jams are too thin and will melt into the cookies. If your preserves are especially chunky, chop up the fruit pieces in a bowl with a knife before using to avoid clogging the hole in the bag as you fill the cookies.

Do not be afraid of the long recipe, of all the detailed steps. These are cookies, the most forgiving of the baked goods! Chill your dough when you're told to, and the rest will all work out. And even if your fruity goodness does melt into your delicate dough... it's a cookie. It's going to taste great.

The author notes that the original recipe card for these calls them "Sonja Henies," but he doesn't think that name resonated with modern cookie makers or eaters. Sonja Henie was an Olympic gold medalist AND a Hollywood box-office smash. ....okay, she was also considered a Quisling... a Nazi collaborator. Certainly, she was friendly with Hitler. It does take the gleam off her stardom, that. It's easy to forget when she's playing the earnest, lovable, sweetly conniving skater in "Iceland" or "Sun Valley Serenade"... So, fine, we can call them Diane's Ultimate Thumbprints; they'll still taste good, and look delightful on your cookie tray.

One last Henie-related note: she had a romance with Van Johnson, who passed away today at the age of 92. I feel a memorial film festival coming on.

Deep Dark Stout Gingerbread

Chefly Husband and I went to Ireland several years ago, and, while in Dublin, went to the Guinness museum. One of the exhibits was meant to give you the sensation that you were in a ginormous pint glass that then got filled with the dark, fabulous stout.

This recipe from Christmas 101 is as close as you can get to that outside of Dublin, on your holiday table.

Deep Dark Stout Gingerbread

Makes 12 servings

Make Ahead: The gingerbread can be prepared up to 2 days, covered tightly with plastic wrap and stored at room temperature.

2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons ground ginger
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 1/4 cups packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs plus 1 large egg yolk
1 cup unsulfured molasses
3/4 cup flat stout, at room temperature
Confectioners' sugar, for garnish

1. Position a rack in the center of the oven and preheat to 350°F. Lightly butter and flour the in side of a 12-cup fluted tube pan, tapping out the excess flour.

2. Sift the flour, ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt onto a piece on wax paper. Set aside.

3. In a large bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the butter until creamy, about 1 minute. Add the brown sugar and beat until the mixture is light in texture and color, about 2 minutes. One at a time, beat in the eggs, then the yolk. Beat in the molasses.

4. Reduce the mixer speed to low. In three additions, beat in the flour mixture, alternating with the stout, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed, until the batter is smooth. Scrape into the prepared pan and smooth the top.

5. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean, 50 to 60 minutes. Cool on a wire cake rack for 10 minutes. Invert the cake onto the cake rack. Transfer to a serving platter, sift confectioners' sugar over the top, and serve warm. Or cool completely and serve at room temperature. (The gingerbread can be prepared up to 2 days ahead, covered tightly with plastic wrap and stored at room temperature.)

Don't have a 12-cup fluted tube pan? Don't worry. Use a Bundt-pan. Use a 9x13 pan. Use any cake-cooking vessel that can hold 12 cups. Not sure of the volume? Really, this is easy: get out your liquid measuring cups. Fill 'em up. Pour into the pan you want to use. Count how many cups it takes to fill the pan.

...yeah, it really is that easy. When I first read that, I slapped my face down into my hands, wondering why I'd never thought of that. It's so much easier than measuring the pan and doing math. I save my math for increasing or reducing recipes, not for calculating volume in fancy Bundt pans.

The author of Christmas 101 suggests that you open the stout an hour before making the cake so that you can encourage the beer to go flat. Stir it, too, every once and a while. That's all good advice. However, when he starts talking about what to do with the left over beer, and his first tip is to cover the top with plastic wrap and stick it in the fridge? I call foul. Drink that stout. Unless you can't for health or religious reasons, there's just no reason to leave perfectly good stout to go flat in the fridge.

Yes, you can use stout in your beef stew. Or plum pudding. Or many other yummy things. But, for the love of all things holy, don't just chuck it in the fridge to go flat and vaguely fridge-y.

This is the first near-duplicate recipe on Take One Cookbook; back in September, we looked at Kentish Gingerbread; if anyone has the inkling to try them both, I'd love side-by-side comparison notes.

Candied Citrus Peel

What do the lebkuchen and brandied fruitcake drops have in common? Besides both being from Christmas 101, that is.

The use of candied citrus peels.

In fact, a lot of holiday recipes call for candied citrus peel of one kind or another (or, heck, in combination). Moreover, you can dip candied citrus peel (I'd call it CCP, but that's just one C short of the Soviet Union, and I'd have weird cognitive issues with that) in melted chocolate and give it out as presents to your neighbors, coworkers, and holiday hosts and hostesses. Yes, really! Honestly! Homemade goodies are a great thing to bring to parties, and this one doesn't take long at all.

Candied Citrus Peels

Makes about 3/4 pound

Make ahead: The candied peels must stand overnight before rolling in sugar. They can then be stored, in an airtight container at room temperature, for up to 1 month.

2 medium grapefruits
1 1/2 cups granulated sugar plus additional for coating
1/3 cup light corn syrup

1. Using a sharp knife, cut off the tops and bottoms of the grapefruits so they can stand. Cut off the rinds in thick, wide strips where the rind meets the fruit. Cut the rind into long strips about 1/2 inch wide. Place in a medium saucepan and cover with cold water. Bring to a boil over high heat, then reduce the heat to medium and cook at a gentle boil for 5 minutes. Drain and rinse under cold running water. Return to the pan, cover with water, and repeat the procedure.

2. In a medium saucepan, bring the sugar, corn syrup, and 1 1/4 cups water to a boil, stirring to dissolve the sugar. Add the peels and reduce the heat to medium-low. Simmer until the peels are translucent and tender, 20 to 30 minutes. Drain the peels. Arrange the peels, not touching each other, on a wire cake rack set over a baking sheet. Let stand at room temperature overnight. Roll the peels in additional sugar to coat. (The candied peels can be prepared up to 1 month ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature.)

Do you hate grapefruit? I do. Oh, don't get me wrong... give me a nice can of Fresca, with its chemically wonderfulness, and "grapefruit flavor" will be okay. But when it comes to citrus, grapefruit just isn't my thing.

If you're like me, you can substitute 3 oranges, or 4 lemons for the grapefruit. The peels for either of these fruits will need longer simmering times -- 30 to 40 minutes.

And, heck, if you're feeling frolicsome, you can substitute other citrus, too. Try lime. Try... bergamot. Try whatever floats your candying boat. Just remember to simmer until translucent and tender.

Dollars to donuts, what ever you try, it's going to end up tasting a damned sight better than the mass-processed crud you can get in the supermarket.

Brandied Fruitcake Drops

I love fruitcake. I never understood the gags about people passing around fruitcake year after year, because, well, my grandma made good fruitcake. And I love the dried fruits. I love the spices. I love the whiff of booziness past. I love the colors! It's like all of Christmas in a dense, sweet, crumbly cake. Oh, yes.

Some people say they hate fruitcake. To them, Rick Rodgers says, "these moist and chewy cookies have been gobbled by many an unsuspecting professed fruitcake hater." So, let's get to the conversion (it's nigh on religious) to fruitcake love, via Christmas 101:

Brandied Fruitcake Drops
Makes 3 dozen.

Make Ahead: The cookies can be baked up to 1 week ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature.

8 tablespoons (1 stick) unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
1/2 cup buttermilk
1/4 cup brandy or bourbon
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup chopped candied fruit for fruitcakes (a combination of candied orange and lemon peels, candied cherries, pineapple and citron) or any dried or candied fruit you prefer
3/4 cup coarsely chopped walnuts

34 walnut halves, for decoration

1. Position the racks in the center and top third of the oven and preheat to 350°F.

2. In a medium bowl, using a hand-held electric mixer at high speed, beat the butter and brown sugar until light in color, about 2 minutes. Beat in the egg. Add the buttermilk, brandy, and vanilla, and beat until the mixture is fluffy, about 1 minute. Using a wooden spoon, add the flour, baking soda, and salt, and mix to make a soft dough. Stir in the chopped candied fruit and walnuts.

3. Using about 1 tablespoon for each cookie, drop the mixture about 1 inch apart onto nonstick baking sheets. Press a walnut half into the center of each cookie. Bake, switching the positions of the cookie sheets from top to bottom and front to back halfway through baking time, until the edges of the cookies are lightly browned, about 20 minutes. Transfer the cookies to a wire cake rack and cool completely. (The cookies can be baked up to 1 week ahead, stored in an airtight container at room temperature.)

Ever feel like a recipe is repeating itself? The Make Ahead slug at the top of ever recipe is repeated at the end, in a quieter, gentler parenthetical aside. No italics. No special fonts. Just a reassurance.

If you like fruitcake, but have never made your own, start with this. It's not that fruitcake is hard to make, it just takes quite a while. There's the soaking, the straining, the brushing, the whole rigamarole.

And, yes, you can put together your own blend of dried and candied fruits to make this (or to make full-on fruitcake). Do not just buy a tub of "fruitcake blend" at the grocers... it's going to be cloying and strange. If you don't want to assemble your own, then order fruitcake fruits pre-blended from King Arthur's Flour. When I make fruitcake, that's what I get. I also tend to get the wee small disposable baking pans from King Arthur's; they work, they work well, they make for nice gift giving.

It may be time to thaw another fruitcake, come to think of it. I've three from the last baking round stashed away, well wrapped and waiting to convert another person to the church of fruitcake love.

Christmas 101, by Rick Rodgers; Lebkuchen

Happy St. Nicholas's Day, folks! Chefly Husband and I woke up to find our boots stuffed with goodies. Wine! Chocolate! Maple sugar Santas! Jelly beans!

And most important of all: lebkuchen.

I'd never had lebkuchen before meeting Chefly Husband; though my mom's side of the family is as German as it is Icelandic, the holiday baked goods tended to be more Icelandic than German. And lebkuchen? It very, very German. It can be a bit hard to describe lebkuchen, but... think of it as a cross between a soft gingerbread cookie and a hard gingerbread cake. Picture it glazed, or coated in chocolate. Pair it with marzipan. Or jelly. Or both. (That one? Yeah, that was breakfast this morning.) It's also got a touch of spice cake to it, or fruit cake. It's... it's lebkuchen. It's yummy.

And it's one of the recipes featured in Christmas 101: Celebrate the Holiday Season from Christmas to New Year's, by Rick Rodgers (my first edition copy is © 1999, but it's had several printings since, and you'll see different cover art if you go to buy a copy for yourself). The book will march you through recipes enough for any holiday feast, but also spends a lot of time on cookies (and gift-able candies), and with a bit over a fortnight left before Christmas, it's about time to be thinking of baking cookies. Let's start off with the right cookie for St. Nicholas:

Lebkuchen
Makes about 40 cookies

Make ahead: The dough must be chilled for at least 4 hours or overnight. The cookies can be baked up to 2 months ahead, stored in airtight containers at room temperature. If possible, store the cookies for at least 3 days before serving.

3 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 cup honey
3/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1 large egg
Zest of 1 lemon
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 cup (4 ounces) very finely chopped walnuts
1/2 cup very finely chopped Candied Orange Peel (page 93) or store-bought candied orange peel

Icing
1 cup confectioners' sugar
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon almond extract

1. Sift the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt into a medium bowl, and set aside. In a large bowl, whisk the honey, brown sugar, egg, lemon zest and juice, and 2 tablespoons water. Gradually stir in the flour mixture, then the walnuts and candied orange peel. If the dough seems too dry, sprinkle with water; 1 tablespoon at a time, and mix with your hands until moistened. Gather up the dough. Divide the dough into two flat disks and wrap in plastic wrap. Refrigerate until firm and chilled, at least 4 hours or overnight. (If chilled overnight, allow the dough to stand at room temperature for 30 minutes before rolling out. The dough will crack if it is too cold.)

2. Position the racks in the center and top third of the oven and preheat to 375°F.

3. On a lightly floured work surface, roll out one disk of dough into a 1/2-inch rectangle, about 12 x 8 inches. Using a sharp knife, trim the dough to a 7 1/2 x 10-inch rectangle, discarding the trimmings. Cut the dough into 20 bars. Place the bars on nonstick cooking sheets, about 1 inch apart. Repeat the procedure with the remaining dough.

4. Bake, switching the positions of the cookies from top to bottom and back to front halfway through baking, until the edges of the cookies are beginning to brown, about 15 minutes. Transfer to wire cake racks and cool completely.

5. To make the icing, sift the confectioners' sugar into a small bowl. Add the lemon juice and almond extract. Stir in 2 tablespoons water to make a thin, spreadable icing. Using a small metal spatula, spread the icing over the tops of the cookies, and let stand until the icing is dry. (The cookies can be baked up to 2 months ahead, stored in airtight containers at room temperature. If possible, store the cookies for at least 3 days before serving.)

Don't be scared off by all the steps; nothing is very difficult in and of itself, and you can spread out the work over a couple of days.

Eating lebkuchen always makes me think of Chefly Husband. The tins some lebkuchen comes in, though, reminds me of Momma. See, she has this big tin, with a hinged lid, and various old German scenes embossed on it. It was our breadbox when I was growing up, and it remains her breadbox still. She figured out that it had been a cookie tin, but couldn't figure out anything more (we none of us speak German). Lo and behold, I meet Chefly Husband, he gets me seasonally addicted to lebkuchen, and I start noticing the tins they come in. They look...an awful lot like the breadbox. Sure enough, the next time I was home with Mom, I took a closer look at the breadbox and discovered it had, in fact, held lebkuchen in a past life.

And, hey, that Candied Orange Peel reference in the ingredients list? I'll be posting that recipe this week. Good for gift giving, good for lebkuchen!

Divinity

Filbert brittle makes me think of Grandma G. But divinity? Divinity makes me think of Grandma B. I don't have many memories of Grandma B. that come from just-me, as opposed to other people's stories. See, she died when I was just about 3 years old, and the times we'd gone up to Portland to visit, I'd been going to doctor's appointments. My sister got to stay with Grandma, and so has many more direct memories of her. I do remember her holiday candy tray, though, and, especially, the divinity.

The Farm Journal's Homemade Candy offers up the following basic divinity recipe (and several variations that make buying the book well worth your $2):

Divinity
Sells fast at food bazaars

2 1/4 c. sugar
1/3 c. white corn syrup
1/4 tsp. salt
1/3 c. water
2 egg whites
1 tsp. vanilla
2/3 c. chopped pecans or walnuts

Place sugar, corn syrup, and water in a 2-qt. heavy saucepan; cook and stir over high heat until sugar is dissolved. Continue cooking without stirring over medium heat until syrup reaches the hard ball stage (255°). Wipe off any sugar crystals that form on sides of pan.

Meanwhile, beat egg whites until stiff. Pour hot syrup slowly over egg whites and beat on medium speed of mixer until candy fluffs up. Add vanilla and continue beating on medium speed, or by hand, until mixture begins to lose its gloss and a small amount dropped from a spoon holds soft peaks. (If the candy gets too stiff for the mixer, complete the beating with a wooden spoon.) Fold in nuts.

Working quickly, drop candy by teaspoonfuls onto waxed paper or turn into lightly buttered 8" square pan. If divinity becomes too stiff, stir in a few drops of hot water. Makes about 24 pieces or 1 pound.

Have I mentioned this week that you really, really, truly need to have a decent candy thermometer? You do. Cooking with sugar is all about the temperature, and though you could technically figure out what stage you're at by dropping bits into cold water and then manipulating it, that takes time, and isn't as accurate. Get a candy thermometer. It will make this much easier.

My mom gave me a Betty Crocker cookbook (which I'm sure to feature on Take One Cookbook at some point) when I went off to college. She wrote on the divinity page "do not make on a rainy day." Divinity and humidity do not go well together. Homemade Candy suggests that if you beat the divinity enough, you'll manage just fine. And by "enough," I mean that it could take up to 15 minutes. No, really. If you thought about trying this without a mechanized mixer, the time to rethink that is now.

If you want to do dropped-from-spoons divinity, have a partner, or it's going to set up on you. I remember divinity cut into squares, so I'm guessing that Grandma B. always poured it into a pan. She didn't lack for helpers, mind you; Mom is one of 7 children. But, still, if you've got hot sugar and 7 kids under foot, the quicker path is probably the wiser one.

Unless you're dealing with a taffy pull. Homemade Candy will walk you through that, too. Pick up a copy, and let me know how your creations turn out.

I feel like I should say that, growing up, I always assumed that the Turkish Delight that the White Witch fed Edmund was, in fact, divinity. What else would lead a child to betray his family? It's that good.

Homemade Marshmallows

Nowadays, nearly every culinary or family magazine will give you a recipe for homemade marshmallows, but back in 1970, when The Farm Journal's Homemade Candy came out, marshmallows in the U.S. came in a plastic bag at the grocers. They were meant to be put in fruit salad, or melted on top of sweet potatoes, or really really melted in with margarine to coat Rice Krispies for a Treat. I adore marshmallows (even the mass produced kind), and encourage you to give 'em a go in your own kitchen.

Homemade Marshmallows
Light, delicate and delicious

2 tblsp. unflavored gelatin
3/4 c. cold water
2 c. sugar
1/8 tsp. salt
3/4 c. boiling water
1 tblsp. vanilla
Chopped nuts or toasted flaked coconut for coating

Soften gelatin in cold water 5 minutes; then dissolve by stirring over hot water.

Combine sugar, salt and boiling water in 2-qt. heavy saucepan; cook, stirring utnil sugar dissolves, to the soft crack stage (280°).

Pour into mixing bowl along with the gelatin mixture and beat at low speed for 3 minutes; continue beating at medium speed for 10 minutes or until mixture is fluffy and creamy. Add vanilla and pour into an 8" square pan dusted with confectioners sugar.

Cool 1/2 hour or until set, then cut in 36 squares with knife moistened in water. Roll in nuts or coconut. Place in airtight container and put in refrigerator, freezer or other cold place until ready to use. Makes about 1 pound.

Note: Tint the gelatin mixture while heating -- pale green, pink, or yellow -- if you wish. Roll green candy in chopped nuts, pink in flaked coconut, yellow in toasted coconut and white in nuts or coconut. You can vary the flavorings if you wish. Instead of vanilla use almound, peppermint, orange or lemon extract.

In case it's not 100% clear, do NOT use these magnificent beasties for your Rice Krispie Treat needs. These are to be savored on their own.

I'm generally pro-nut, but don't think that nuts really pair well with an otherwise unadorned marshmallow. If you're going to enrobe the nut-crusted 'mallow with chocolate, well, ... maybe. But otherwise, please keep them plain, or dusted in confectioner's sugar, or, yes, use that coconut. Personally, I'd tint the coconut and leave the marshmallows white.

Instead of using a knife to cut the marshmallow into pieces, try using kitchen shears. You'll manage the task much more quickly, and with greater precision.

What are your favorite uses for marshmallows?

Right about now, I can see plopping a big marshmallow into a cup of hot cocoa, watching it swell, and then nibbling my way to the beverage. Mmmm...marshmallows remind me of childhood.

Filbert Brittle

Though plates of fudge and cookies make me go back in my mind to my mom's family home, there are a few things that make me leap, mentally, to Dad's mom's house. Ribbon candy. Scotch and soda. Dill pickles. Brittle. And nuts.

Grandma always had a wooden bowl filled with nuts in their shells, sitting out on the coffee table. There were nut picks and a nut cracker (which looks surprisingly like what I've seen folks out here use for cracking crab). We would crack and eat nuts all visit long. My favorites were always the filberts.

Mmmm, filberts. For, lo, it was Oregon, and it was the 70s, and they were filberts. The rest of the world might call 'em "hazelnuts," but we knew better. Filbert orchards everywhere, and tasty, tasty filberts, too.

Imagine my surprise when I went to an Oregon wine tasting here in DC, and met the heads of the Oregon HAZELNUT Growers Association. They begged me to not call them filberts anymore. Seems that properly named filberts don't command the same price on the international marked as identical-except-in-name hazelnuts. A bit of me died that night.

Back to Grandma, and memories. The Farm Journal's Homemade Candy has a recipe that combines two of the tastes that make me think of Grandma G.

Unsurpassable Filbert Brittle

Filberts grow in Oregon and candy makers there believe that confections featuring them can't be surpassed. They have a right to be proud of this brittle. If you can't find filberts in your markets, you can use either raw Spanish peanuts or salted peanuts as a substitute in the recipe for Filbert Brittle.

As with all brittle recipes, the trick is to prevent scorching and the formation of sugar crystals during the cooking. This recipe shows the way a home economics teacher controls these problems. All her friends recognize her as an expert candy maker.

She likes to pour the cooked brittle onto a warm marble slab, brushed with mineral oil, but you can use heavy duty foil, well oiled or buttered. To warm the marble, she lays her electric pad on it and turns on the electricity -- an original idea.

Filbert Brittle

A holiday treat in the Northwest -- it's worth adoption across country

4 c. whole or halved filberts
3 c. sugar
1 14/ c. light corn syrup
1 c. boiling water
2 tblsp. butter
1/2 tsp. salt
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. vanilla

Remove any excess or loose fibers from filberts, but do not remove skins.

Combine sugar, corn syrup, and boiling water in 3-qt. heavy saucepan. Stir until sugar is dissolved, then cover and place over medium heat until syrup boils. Remove lid; insert candy termometer and cook at medium boil to the soft ball stage (240°).

Add filberts all at once. Do not stir until mixture again boils (it might start a crystal). Then stir with a wooden spoon to keep nuts from scorching, using care not to touch sides of pan above surface of syrup, for the friction of spoon may cause crystals to fall into syrup and cause a coarse-grain candy.

Cook to the hard crack stage (310°), or even beyond it to 320°, at which stage sugar caramelizes and turns a dark golden color. Add butter; remove from heat at once. Then add salt, soda and vanilla, stirring in well.

Pour onto warm marble slab, brushed with mineral oil or butter, or onto buttered heavy duty foil. Pour brittle so it spreads out as thinly as possible. Work a buttered or oiled spatula under one side of brittle and turn it over. Pull the brittle as thin as possible. (A heatproof mit is helpful in turning and pulling brittle.)

Let cool; then break in pieces of eating size. Store in airtight containers. Place in freezer, refrigerator or other cold place. Makes 3 pounds.

Do take it to the 320°F point, please, and get the darker, yummier, caramelized sugar. It's so worth it.

I can taste it now. The butter. The burnt sugar. The crisp nuts. How, on a humid day (and, hello, it was Oregon...rainy rainy humid), it would be a bit softer, a bit grainier. Still tasty as all get out.

Butterscotch Haystacks

It's not very often I feature a recipe on Take One Cookbook that I know my sister would not only eat, but also enjoy. She's a very particular eater, and perhaps in a long-standing fit of rebellion ("I CAN be different than my sister!"), I eat pretty much anything. Not eel. Never eel. I have eel issues. Eel... :shudder:

But we're not here to talk about eel. Today or ever.

No, today we're here to talk about Farm Journal's Homemade Candy confection section, and specifically, and easy, adaptable, tasty treat that even my sister will eat.

Butterscotch Haystacks
Crisp and sweet and so easy to make

2 (6 oz.) pkgs. butterscotch-flavored morsels
1 1/2 c. salted cashew nuts
1 (5 oz.) can chow mein noodles

Melt butterscotch bits in top of double boiler, stirring occasionally to blend.

Meanwhile, combine nuts and chow mein noodles; place in preheated low oven (200°). Add warmed nuts and noodles to melted butterscotch and stir until all are coated.

Quickly drop with a dessert spoon onto waxed paper-lined baking sheet to form little haystacks. If nuts and noodles are warmed, butterscotch will not set until all the stacks are spooned out. Makes 48 haystacks, or about 1 pound.

Note: You can substitute 1 1/2 c. salted peanuts for the cashews, if you wish.

I'm here to tell you, you can do this without nuts altogether. Nuts are fine and all, but there's nothing saying they need to be here. Other than the recipe, mind you. But we're all about informed substitution (and deletion) here at Take One Cookbook. You could also use walnuts, or pecans, or whatever nut you like. Here's my suggestion: A big ol' spoonful of peanut butter, put in with the butterscotch chips when you melt them. Mmmm, nutty taste and no nut chunks to distract from the texture of the chow mein. (I may have been influenced by my big sister in some food preferences, after all.)

Here's an informed substitution I recommend you make whichever side of the nut equation you land on: lose the double boiler. Melt in a microwave-safe glass bowl, 1 minute at first and then in 15 second bursts, stirring between, until all melted. So. much. easier. than using a double boiler.

Besides putting something sweet, nutty, crunchy, and easy on your cookie and candy plate for the holidays, this post is also an introduction to my big sister, Kelly, who has guest blogger credentials for Take One Cookbook. Sometime in the near future, she'll be mining the West Coast family library of cookbooks; I hear she'll start with a boozy book, which makes us all very, very happy, indeed.

Sauerkraut Candy

Be not afraid.

There is no actual sauerkraut in this candy. (Though, let it be known, sauerkraut goes great in sweets, especially in chocolately sauerkraut cake. No, really.)

Trust me. Trust the editors of the Farm Journal's Homemade Candy. This is good stuff.

Sauerkraut Candy Comes Back

Most youngsters never heard of Sauerkraut Candy, but oldsters know it well. The "sauerkraut" is shredded coconut and you team it with penuche. Many grocery stores throughout the Midwest sold it from barrels during the Gay Nineties. It held its place in the sun until World War I. Then for some reason it almost disappeared. Make it once and you may stage a revival, for the candy tastes extra-good.

Sauerkraut Candy
You can't miss with this combination of lots of coconut in penuche

2 c. light brown sugar, firmly packed
2 c. white sugar
1/4 c. light corn syrup
1 1/3 c. dairy half-and-half
1/4 c. butter (1/2 stick)
1/4 tsp. salt
1 tsp. vanilla
1 1/2 c. shredded coconut

Combine sugars, corn syrup and half-and-half in a 3-qt. heavy saucepan with buttered sides. Cooked over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar is dissolved. Continue cooking to the soft ball stage (238 to 240°).

Remove from heat; add butter and salt without stirring. Cool to lukewarm (110°). Add vanilla and beat until creamy; mixture loses gloss and becomes opaque.

Fold in coconut all at once. Pour onto buttered and chilled platter or into an 8" square pan. Cut in slices if thick or in 49 squares if molded in pan. Makes about 2 1/4 pounds.

You may be wondering what the heck penuche is. I'd never heard the word before. Turns out, it's a brown-sugar fudge. I know, I know... fudge overload. But it's more caramel-y than the average fudge; Wikipedia describes some uses:

Penuche is also used as a boiled icing flavor. It was once very popular in Hawaii where the name was localized as Panocha or Panuche. "Panocha" is said to come from the Spanish word for raw sugar. Hawaiian cooks often reminisce about both panocha fudge and icing. As an icing, it was common as topping for prune cake. Other names for Penuche include Noochie and creamy praline fudge.

Ooooo. Oooo, I like the idea of a prune cake, and of a brown sugar fudge-tastic icing. This appeals to my inner Icelandic self, which believes that all winter holidays should have pastries made from prunes (see: family recipe for vinaterta, which I should really post here at some point).

I was stopped in my tracks by the phrase "Gay Nineties"; when did we stop giving decades cute monikers? The Roaring Twenties is the last one that springs easily to mind. Surely we could come up with some more.

I think the author of the recipe pulls a few punches, or is willfully ignoring the obvious. If "for some reason" a recipe with a Germanic name drops from public usage sometime within the lifetime of folks who ate it during the Gay Nineties, it's not a big mystery. It's called The War. Even sauerkraut wasn't called sauerkraut anymore; it became Liberty cabbage.

Coconut is one of those things that I adore, that I know many people loathe, and that I can't understand anyone disliking. It's so mild. So tasty. So delightful. Chefly Husband, thankfully, adores it, even though his father twitches at the mere thought of the shredded horror.