Out & About #866 | Christmas 2022 Visuals

Airy sugar cookies adorned with sprinkles are an annual staple come Christmas time.

But not just any cutout cookie recipe is deemed acceptable - the formula from Elegant Desserts by HP Books is our go-to. Strictly utilizing egg yolks and combining a pinch of cream of tartar consistently yields crunchy, buttery results. The cookies are the furthest from dense, and taste best after adopting golden edges.

​This year's batch actually almost didn't materialize. With hectic in-office days planned and a constant inward stream of emails, I nearly couldn't muster the time for their construction. However, climate conditions worked in my favour: a nasty snowstorm cancelled commuting plans, enabling the opportunity for creative juices to flow within the kitchen.

The first tray tends to burn, naturally so given the inconsistent oven temperature. Turning my head away from the oven momentarily to check emails, I returned to find deeply brown specimens staring back at me.
But, believe it or not, the cookies are, in fact, more delicious this way. They remained crisp instead of reeking of irrevocable charring, further radiating richer notes of butter.

Within 48 hours, most of the colourful cutouts had vanished. I only partially assume responsibility for this development.

Reflecting on Christmas dinners of years past, there lies unmistakable consistency in our assortment and setup.

Arranged about the table were sweet bell peppers, oven-roasted Little Gems, steamed broccoli, butter-sautéed zucchini, and two of our household's signature dishes: Mixed Fruit Salad and Ham and Pineapple.

The latter was especially welcome after a long period of its absence. Maple ham proved a worthy investment, contributing luscious notes of maple that contrasted nicely with the pineapple's acidity.

​The foil tray was recycled for the low-and-slow roasting of our Butterball turkey. Into a salt brine the bird would reside for 24 hours; then, it was placed in the oven and cooked to impeccable tenderness.

This year's turkey was the best of all years. A spectacular, golden sheen glistened from within the tray. Not a single part revealed signs of overdone-ness. Sheathed within unfathomably crispy, rotisserie-style skin was exceptionally tender turkey breast. The leanest part of the bird emerged at perfect doneness, oozing with flavour, and alluring in its seemingly endless enjoyment potential.
​Submerged within clear, delectable juices were the aromatics. The onions were sweet and tender, while the garlic fragrant without being overbearing.

​The thighs, on the other hand, were decidedly tough despite their typically higher fat content of thighs. They tasted mildly gamey, with some rawness discovered at the connecting joints.

That said, this year's iteration persists as the most enjoyable turkey of all years - an exemplary yield to be enjoyed in other forms in the subsequent days.

​Accompanying the hearty meal were carbonated cocktails: Perrier and orange juice for the alcohol-free rendition, and Kokuto Choya (and lemon juice) added for the spiked variation.

​Somehow, in some way, I had also managed to construct a Yule Log in time for the holidays.

​This year's edition took advantage of the four leftover egg whites from cookie-making, and yielded an extravagant amount of Italian buttercream. Sunday Baking's recipe had been scaled up from two egg whites to four; in hindsight, her original ratios were ideal for frosting/filling a single cake.

While constructing the sponge, I had committed the amateur error of contaminating the whites with a broken yolk. Running low on both time and eggs, I made my best attempt at salvaging the whites and compensating the accidental infiltration of fat with a few squeezes of lemon juice.
The yolks, now contaminated with protein, first failed to expand in volume. Upon adding the dry ingredients, the batter grew lumpy and outright repulsive. I added baking powder for good measure, but really ought to have refrained from doing so. The whites, despite showing success in acquiring some degree of volume, lacked the structural integrity of meringue.

The batter was passed through a sieve to remove any lumps. It appeared fine at first, but the cake collapsed in the oven, emerging after its 15-minute baking time with noticeable bumps on its surface and non-uniformity in thickness.

Admittedly, the staggering proportion of buttercream to sponge improved ease of rolling. The buttercream acted as a splendid cohesive, albeit being causing the roll to evoke an unwanted sense of heaviness in the user.

I opted to decorate the top with chocolate ganache, only to realize that I had incorporated too much butter in efforts to make it appear smoother. This, in turn, caused:

1. The ganache to be excessively rigid (not pliable enough for piping)
2. The volume to decrease, leaving me with barren segments of cake

​
​Thinking quickly, I rapidly mixed melted Surfin with a small amount of leftover buttercream. The combination was tasty, but its finish was glossy instead of matte. A different mouthfeel had been obtained. 

Slicing the cake was another challenge in itself, for the rigid strips of ganache crumbled off the cake in little pieces. The sponge, being drier than past attempts, pulled away from the buttercream and the ganache. Its height was also insufficient in offsetting the satiating qualities of the buttercream.

​Though visually appealing at a glance and bearing sufficient resemblance to a Yule Log, I declared the roll cake inferior to previous pieces with similar output specifications in the departments of taste and texture. ​The journey to Swiss roll mastery is a grueling, lengthy one indeed.

​Leftovers were consumed over the following days, either unaltered from their initial presentation or elevated in the form of Turkey Congee. ​If executed well, Turkey Congee can serve to grant even greater gratification that pho; this one surely did. 

The Kokuto Choya was revisited during daylight hours, as was a latte spiked with Kahlua. About 2-3 oz of each liquor is recommended, though 1.5 oz is a good starting point for those with sensitive tolerances.

Physical Christmas presents were limited this year, being bestowed solely on the basis of need. My go-to scent was replenished - in a Mediterranean-themed box to boot! - with the addition of a scented body cream.

With a decent amount of buttercream in the fridge, the idea of cupcakes was entertained. 

​Truthfully, I had wanted to revisit the delicate crumb of last year's Cocoa Cupcakes, but wasn't able to locate the recipe organically through YouTube's mobile app. Instead, I took to the first recipe of interest: Sunday Baking's Fudgy & Moist Gothic Black Buttercream Cake. I instinctively skipped the buttercream then swapped out the cocoa powders for finely milled houjicha instead. 11 g were sourced from a forgotten packet from Korea, then 39 g more from Paragon's Houjicha Obsidian to yield a total of 50 g​ - the equivalent mass of Sunday's predominant flavouring.

​Varying vastly in terms of vibrance, the two powders also emitted drastic differences in depth. Paragon's was rich in both hue and extremely potent. The resulting product was essentially as dark as cocoa cupcakes!

Mini muffin liners from Dollarama made their entrance, only to be regarded with disdain due to the gap left between the liner and pan. A different set of mini liners was slotted in for comparison, and served to fit the muffin tin perfectly. The diameter of the Dollarama renditions were at 5-10% too small.

​Sunday called for baking at 350 F for 30-35 minutes. I averaged the individual portions at 15 minutes, then snuck them back into the over for 1 minute longer for assurance. They turned out wonderful, intensely fudgy and moist as she had declared, yet devoid of unwanted denseness. Greater structural integrity was obtained due to being based of butter (and not oil), while the unexpected addition (and availability) of sour cream contributed an interesting tang, presumably serving a similar effect to buttermilk.

SK's Marbled Banana Bread was constructed on the side, simply as a consequence of having three spotted, ripe bananas on hand.

A horrible twist of fate, my buttercream was unveiled as a lumpy, separated mess unfit for frosting. Whipping it to reincorporate air did not assist in reverting whatever process had taken place.

I immediately poured whipping cream into a medium-sized bowl, whipping it to soft peaks then preparing a warmed portion of strawberry jam for incorporation. Perhaps the soluble jam mixture had been heated too much, for the mixture curdled even after sacrificial mixing.

In a hurried attempt to make progress, I hastily poured more whipping cream into the bowl. At this point, the mixture lost all structure, turning to liquid and refusing to whip. Floating the bowl over ice did not recover its earlier state, nor did chilling in the fridge. I admitted defeat, opting to serve the runny strawberry cream as an optional condiment, for the cupcakes were fabulous even on their own.

Compared to those past, this year's Christmas was busier at work and quieter at home. An overwhelming amount of social interactions were declined for the sake of sanity, and what a good decision that was.

Merry Christmas!!!