Out & About #859 | Smitten Kitchen Keepers + Molasses Cookies

Truthfully, I dread Tuesday commutes. Congestion reverberates from all angles, in particular the return trip, which has seen travel times of 100-140 minutes - that's up to 2 hours and 10 minutes of merely sitting in traffic!

​Alas, November 22nd was an exception: it was the long-awaited book signing event of Smitten Kitchen. Toronto has made the only Canadian stop on her tour, with the selected venue conveniently situated across my workplace, at the convenient hour of 5 PM to boot. With the official release of details, I proceeded to preorder the Smitten Kitchen Keepers without a moment's hesitation.

​The district was noticeably more festive than the previous week, with dazzling holiday décor filling every inch of walkable space. In the lobby were wreaths and a tree decked in red and purple ornaments, the latter matching perfectly with yours truly.

​Over lunch, I sauntered about the intersection, admittedly aimlessly. Having travelled south of the crossing for gelato (and formerly Isaan Der) and west for Isle of Coffee's signature lemon bear madeleines, I would this time embark northwards.

I've found Uptown Yonge as quite a cozy neighbourhood. The sidewalks are quite wide and maintained well - none of the uneven utility patches or chips of Yonge-Dundas. It can also be concluded that, as you navigate further from intersection, the number of homeless seemingly decrease.

​​Some early Black Friday sales had commenced; instead of browsing the array in person, I noted them for researching online at a later point in time. However, there was one shop that caught my attention: De Mello Palheta.

Having been the target of several of the boutique coffee roaster's web adertisements before, I had reviewed their assortment and even added an item or two to the cart, until discovering the presence of shipping fees. Surprised I was to discover their storefront by chance, and into the café I strode.
Seating was extremely limited, extending no more beyond bar seating before the window and one communal table. A narrow corridor led to the merchandise section, which I proceeded to examine for items of interest.​

​A 20-pack box of NomNom Instant Coffee was obtained from one of the wooden shelves. Nearing the cashier, I noticed that individual packets could also be purchased for one dollar each. The packets alone did not conform to the Buy 3 for $39 promotion, but could be combined with other roasts to achieve the discount. Intrigued, I enlisted the help of the two baristas, who assisted in providing additional details regarding roasts for espresso and filter.
Eventually, I emerged with the seasonal La Campanella, a light roast that is surprisingly suited for espresso, and Butterfly Kiss, a blend supposedly versatile enough for both of my preferred brewing methods. And the NomNom box, of course.

​On the way back, a Matcha Brown Sugar Pearl Milk Tea order was placed via the CoCo app. Despite speedy formulation and pleasant service, the drink was, quite possibly, the worst variation of matcha milk tea ever to be sampled: milk, bland, and nauseating. Furthermore, there was a distinct absence of brown sugar.  The Woodchester location persists as my go-to CoCo destination.

Later that evening, around the 4:30 PM mark, I made my way over to Indigo.
Entry to the event was granted on the bases of cookbook preorders/purchases, and would involve either showing the physical copy of the book or an Indigo receipt. For those looking to partake in the book signing session, thin yellow slips were distributed for the designation of "group numbers". My arrival time had coincided with that of Group 4.

To my utter shock, nearly all the seats on the second floor had been filled. Miraculously, I secured the very last one. Others had resorted to standing between the shelves in wait of the event to commence. As I squeezed into the single vacancy, a jab was perceived on my left backside. Pivoting a restricted 180, as one often does bearing layers of winter gear, I locked eyes with orangecane. Since the fateful downtown office day in June, few words had been exchanged. The situation remained as such, and I sense discomfort in response to my attempts at making conversation. Perhaps our relationship had truly diminished to the sheer salutation stage. Waves of awkwardness continued until well after the event.

The author would make her appearance at roughly quarter past five, at which point a brief interview would take place. Between 5:12 PM - 5:27 PM, Smitten Kitchen and her presumed long-time acquaintance would exchange opinions on food, wherein the interviewer would constantly interrupt at several decibels higher.

SK was delightful and humorous to listen to - equally witty as the writeups accompanying her countless blog posts. Over the years, she had continually worked to develop her kitchen practice for adaptation across other kitchens, namely household kitchens supporting working families and picky eaters. She spoke from the perspective of the chef, in that a dish is only as great as the chef's desire to craft it. I could not agree more, and I'm confident I was not the only one.

From 5:28 PM - 5:43 PM, a Q&A session would take place. SK listened intently to questions from the crowd and responded concisely, yet amusingly. Leaving a strong impression was her reply to ingredient substitutes, specifically onions and eggs.

"What is the onion doing?" She would ask, "Can I replace it with a different vegetable?". References were made to ingredients that could be cooked similarly to obtain similar tasting profiles.
"What is the egg doing?" came the contemplative answer to an elderly lady's concerned ask. "Is it a quiche? I would not recommend a flax egg. If it is a European cake recipe that requires multiple eggs for its flavour, I would not suggest a flax egg. However, if it is an American cake recipe where the egg is not the star, then, by all means, a flax egg would work."
Rather than providing isolated answers that could easily be taken out of context and applied globally without consideration of various factors, she encouraged home cooks and home bakers to think critically, without outright delving into the scientific realm of physics and chemical reactions.

The book signing session would be held in a different part of the venue, complete with an Indigo backdrop and four (or more) members of security surrounding the table. Groups were to be summoned systematically, from Group 1 to (gasp) Group 9. Each comprised of roughly twenty people. Needless to say, I was waiting for a while.

​In the meantime, I flipped through the Smitten Kitchen Keepers leisurely - it was my only opportunity to do so, after all. Being in proximity to the kids' section, I also didn't hesitate to survey the plushies on display. Fuzzy penguins, candy canes and star-topped pine trees with faces, and a furry snowman I giddily plucked the furry buttons of assisted me in passing time

When it came to my turn, about thirty-five minutes later, it dawned upon me that the awkwardness of the unexpected encounter with orangecane had stuck. Words tumbled out to SK in stutters and disorganized clauses, rather than the complex, coherent speeches I'm known to deliver to idols of prime affection during hi-touch sessions. For the first time since COVID recovery, words refused to flow out.

​Pai, from which I had placed a Ritual order some twenty minutes earlier, had notified me that my order was ready for pickup at 6:22 PM.
At 6:49 PM, I departed for the renowned Thai staple in the city. Temperatures had grown milder over the course of the day, to the point where speedwalking induced perspiration. By the time I had climbed up, then back down, the eatery's two flights of stairs and returned to my office, dampness had escaped from all pulse points. There was no way I'd be making it back in time before my 7 PM parking expiration.

A part of me had desperately hoped for my order to be lukewarm by the time I retrieved it. Keen I was not on ingesting sustenance that scaled the tongue. Moreover, my internal body temperature was already higher than preferred. That said, the broth was still very much warm - too warm for my liking.

​​​The Chiang Mai Beef Noodle Soup was served in a tall plastic container, while its rice noodles in separate a paper container. Utensils had been omitted entirely, to my utter disgust. Thankfully, I had retained disposable chopsticks from my time in Vancouver and the spoon from my packed lunch earlier in the day.

In spite of its appearance, the broth was bolder than it was spicy. Frankly, it was purely savoury: rich, loaded with peanuts and MSG, and capable of staining any surface coming into contact. Commendable was inclusion of crunchy bean sprouts and abundance of beef, though the strips weren't entirely tender as braised beef ought be.
I succeeded in depleting only one quarter of the broth, utilizing the entire portion of noodles to combat its heavy profile. The dish alone would suffice for up to three more meals, likely moderated by simpler flavours of blanched veggies and supplemented with white rice.

Transporting the container home, along with three bags/boxes of coffee, a signed hardcover cookbook, and my regular roster of laptop and day trip essentials, was truly a mission. Prior to placing the container in my bag, I wrapped it in napkins, then tightly knotted two plastic bags over it. De Mello purchases were arranged above. The internal cavities of my backpack would reveal themselves a peculiar blend of spices and coffee.

Departing downtown at the late hour of 7:03 PM, I witnessed a staggeringly high number of passengers on the TTC - a mix of office workers and international students - followed by scarily aggressive drivers on the 401. Often do I find myself in a position of subdued frustration in these situations. The repurcussions of road rage are tremendous, and easily preventable with a sane mind. Such battles stem from an egotistical mindset, where the public roadway is viewed as a battleground, and fights are not to be lost. In reality, highways and roads are merely shared spaces - municipal and provincial infrastructure that facilitates transportation for the masses. 
Let it be known that no driver loses by keeping their head cool. They are winning by going home in one piece.

From the moment I laid eyes on the recipe, I hadn't been able to stop thinking about the presumably perfect molasses cookies that had entailed a whole month's worth of back-to-back testing. Minimal affection do I have for the ingredient, for there is a synthetic aura about it I can't quite shake. Moreover, there are few recipes that utilize it, causing it be forgotten in our top shelf until the following December.

Nonetheless, I allowed my mind to wander - to explore the opportunity that could be with the acquisition of such ingredient. It led me to Loblaws, where mini marshmallows were also secured in preparation for the yearly iteration of holiday Rice Krispies. Once in the baking aisle though, I strayed from the carton labelled "Fancy Molasses", which had seemingly confirmed its suitability for festive forays by adorning the packaging with images of cinnamon and - you guessed it - molasses cookies. Hoping for a slightly savoury profile, I gravitated towards "Cooking Molasses". SK's words echoed in my head: "Any kind will work."

​The next morning, I proceeded to ignore my emails. Cracking the book open to reveal the formula for Thick Molasses Spice Cookies, I paused at the listing of one ingredient: candied ginger. Clearly, that one had been missed in the previous night's impromptu grocery trip.
A slew of recipes were perused online, with the first detailing a painstaking process of simmering ginger pieces sliced thin using a mandolin in a sugar syrup for about thirty minutes, or until reduced. But cookie urges wait for no one.

Roughly three tablespoons of ginger were peeled, finely chopped, and thrown into a Pyrex measuring cup with a generous (too generous, if I may add) pinch of table salt, three heaping tablespoons of granulated sugar, and one cup of boiling water. The mixture was covered with plastic wrap, zapped in the microwave, and allowed to infuse at room temperature while the cookie dough was prepared.

A ridiculously simple amalgamation of household ingredients, it came together in well under fifteen minutes. Several steps/aspects had deviated from the cookbook though:

• Dry ingredients were added to the wet instead of the other way round - for "one bowl, hand-whisked" meant melting butter in the  starting bowl and continuing.
• Ginger powder was sprinkled in along with pumpkin pie spice, cinnamon, and nutmeg; all spice and cloves are never in stock, but I've found that pumpkin spice works well as a substitute since it combines the elements.
• Cookies were formed into 1.5 tbsp rounds and coated with a mix of granulated sugar and coarse sugar, but the yield doubled the declared 20-22 servings.

​The cookies emerged impeccably spicy in fragrance and delicate in nature. They were cooled for beyond 15 minutes, then transferred to a wire rack to continue cooling while I set out on the next project.

​True to her words, the molasses cookies were indeed pillowy. Its outer edges were crunchy, while the centre tender and retaining adequate chewiness. The days of Starbucks' obnoxiously soft, sugary Ginger Molasses Cookies were behind me at long last! Incorporating trace amounts of candied ginger was a nice touch and surprisingly not too spicy, making the cookies suitable for ginger-enjoyers at all ends of the spectrum.

The Thick Molasses Spice Cookie is a keeper for real.

My second project had stemmed from weeks of craving biscotti. It, conveniently, also used one egg white.

Fig and walnuts were swapped for dried cranberries and pecans respectively, with the latter requiring a toast and thorough chop as preparation. The dried cranberries, which had been deemed compact enough to dump in without blitzing, later revealed themselves as a troubling ingredient after the first bake. Orange zest, another ingredient I desperately wanted to replace with an extract but didn't, was sourced from one of the many oranges in our house. There is a distinctly fresh, lightly bitter profile to citrus zest, one that ought be maximized in baked goods.

Frankly, I had realized the extent of labour involved. After forming the log, it was to chill for 30-40 minutes, or until entirely firm. Next, it would be brushed with egg white and topped with sugar. It would then reside in the oven for a specified 15-20 minutes at 350 F. Whether it was due to my log size or the abundance of egg white coating, the log remained pale and soft. The temperature was raised to 375 F, and the log was returned for intervals of ten minutes, until a rich coppery tone adorned the surface.

I had only allowed it to cool for fifteen minutes before attempting to slice. The insides were shockingly damp, at least two shades darker that the outer circumference. Cutting was halted until well after the specified forty minutes. At that point, dampness was combatted by slow-baking the slices afterwards, first for 40 minutes, then continually adding time to the slices required.

Presenting themselves wider than they were tall, my Cranberry Pecan Biscotti was far from typical. They weren't tooth-shatteringly rigid, and were quite enjoyable even without dunking in hot java. Baking powder had lent an airiness to the biscuit, while the meticulously chopped nuts supplied textural contrast. For future attempts, though, I'd employ dicing of the dried fruit of choice, such that the larger lumps don't induce separation during the slicing process; my cranberries were the unmistakable culprit of crumbly bits.​

For the rest of the week, I continued to contemplate other festive treats.

SK's Salted Brown Butter Rice Krispies were constructed with a thorough folding of chopped almonds. For once, I had held back from adding other extracts and merely stuck with the caramel notes of brown butter.

I also became engrossed in the concept of Rum Balls. In the absence of a half cup of rum though, I opted to dump 90% of my 50ml sample-sized Malibu Coconut Rum Liqueur into my all-too-tiny food processor with Maria cookies and a handful of toasted pecans.

​The result was admittedly drier and more crumbly than desired - distinctly different from the coveted fudgy cross-section. Nonetheless, they succeeded in offering some degree of warmth amidst subtle chocolatey-ness.

Meals of the week comprised of:

• The childhood favourite of POGO (now spiced, for whatever reason)
• Napa Cabbage and Vermicelli with Oyster Sauce Braised Pork
• Egg Salad, crafted from accidental hard-boiled eggs
• Leftovers of my Chiang Mai Beef Noodle Soup

And last, but not least, a spinoff of yet another nostalgic Canadian classic:

• Kraft Dinner Three Cheese Pasta Shells

Admittedly, the skinny noodle with cheddar is superior to this Monterey Jack-containing variation. Its cheesiness was simply inadequate, prompting a bountiful dusting of White Cheddar seasoning blend.

​As holiday tunes fill the air, I've steadily geared up my tribe appropriately - for what is Christmas without radically red Santa hats and plush, furry white brims?