Not Your Average Christmas Cookie

'Tis the season of holiday parties, and with it comes the obligatory housewarming gifts. If a bottle of wine or bundle of flowers simply won’t suffice, a festive tin of baked goods will certainly do the trick (provided you avoid “break-and-bake” cookies and the dreaded fruitcake.)

This year, I made several batches of chocolate-dipped almond cookies to distribute to my coworkers and send to my relatives. They were a colossal success, eliciting blissful sighs and happy grins with every bite taken. I’m calling them marzipan macaroons because they are much more moist than the almond macaroons you’ll find at most Italian delis. The gooey, chewy centers pair perfectly with the cookies’ crispy exteriors and the crunchy layers of almonds surrounding them. Best of all, they’re a cinch to make- just combine the ingredients in a food processor and use a spoon to scoop the dough onto a parchment-swathed sheet tray. Finish them off by dipping their bottoms in bittersweet chocolate. Perfect for a holiday- or any day, for that matter.



Marzipan Macaroons

14 oz almond paste
¼ cup granulated sugar
2 egg whites, lightly beaten
1 tsp vanilla extract
½ cup sliced almonds, for garnish
9 oz dark chocolate (50% cacao or darker)
1 tsp vegetable oil

. Preheat oven to 325 degrees
. Combine almond paste and sugar in food processor, pulsing thoroughly
. Add egg whites and vanilla extract, and pulse until combined
. Spoon small scoops of dough onto a cookie sheet covered in parchment paper
. Sprinkle cookies with sliced almonds, gently pressing them into the dough
. Bake for 18 minutes, until edges turn golden
. Cool cookies completely on their tray

. In a small saucepan, melt chocolate and vegetable oil over low heat (making sure chocolate doesn’t burn)
. Dip the bottoms of the cookies in chocolate and place them bottoms-up on the sheet tray
. Refrigerate for 30 minutes, until chocolate is set

Yields 16-20 macaroons.

The Meyer Lemon, Glorified

For those not yet enlightened, the Meyer is not your typical lemon. Only available in the winter months, it is technically a mixed breed- half lemon, half orange- but there is nothing mutt-like about it. To its loyal followers, this sumptuous fruit is the supermodel of the citrus world, prized for its beauty, rarity, and ability to look (and taste) great in anything.




Why so special? The Meyer’s shiny, smooth skin flushes a deeper gold than its common cousin, but the real difference can be found within, where the fruit’s aroma is positively ethereal. There, beneath its thin, aureate wrapping, the fragrant zest and juice are reminiscent of seasons passed; of orange blossoms, almond butter, and limoncello over ice.

But this lemon’s admirable versatility should also be celebrated. Previously, I’ve featured the fruit in everything from cerignola olives marinated in Meyer lemon rind, garlic, and bay leaves, to roasted chicken stuffed with Meyer lemon wedges, sweet onions, and thyme, to a Meyer lemon cream pie brimming with silky lemon custard and whipped cream, and festooned with candied lemon rind curls (the latter took my mom and me all of Christmas day, but it was worth every bite.)

Could you simply opt for the common lemon instead? Sure. But the Meyer variety gives those same dishes the “Mmm what is that?” quality.

Because the lemons are only in season for several months each year, the holidays are the perfect time in which to showcase their talents. The following recipe really allows the Meyers’ illustrious flavor to shine through in this festive dish’s bright and tangy sauce.



Meyer Lemon Shrimp with Israeli Couscous

For the shrimp:
. 1 cup extra virgin olive oil
. 2 tbsp finely-chopped shallots
. ¾ pound large, raw shrimp, peeled and deveined
. Juice of 4 Meyer lemons
. Zest of 2 Meyer lemons
. 2 tbsp chopped fresh thyme
. Freshly-ground salt and pepper, to taste

For the Israeli couscous:
. 1 box of Israeli couscous (pearl pasta)
. 2 tbsp extra virgin olive oil
. 1 tsp garlic powder

For garnish:
. 1 Meyer lemon, cut in paper-thin slices
. Fresh thyme sprigs (or fresh sage)
. Parmesan shavings (optional)

. Heat oil in large skillet over medium heat
. Add shallots to infuse the oil and cook until translucent (about 2-3 minutes)
. Salt and pepper both sides of shrimp
. Add shrimp to oil and sauté until pink and almost cooked through, 1-2 minutes per side
. Add the lemon juice and zest and fresh thyme, and reduce heat to simmer for 5 minutes
. Scoop shrimp out with a slotted spoon, setting them aside
. Let sauce simmer until reduced and thickened, whisking occasionally (add more olive oil if needed) for 15 minutes
. Remove from heat

. Meanwhile, cook Israeli couscous according to box directions
. When done, add olive oil and garlic powder
. Stir in 2/3 of the thickened lemon sauce
. Season with salt and pepper to taste

. In shallow risotto bowl, pile shrimp on top of a bed of couscous
. Spoon remaining lemon sauce over all of it and garnish with herbs, lemons, or parmesan shavings

The Cupcake That Changed Everything

Okay, I’m just as sick of the trend as you are. Must we be subjected to a cupcake reality show on every channel and a cupcake shop on every corner? (They’re becoming as numerous as Starbucks.) Personally, I think the cakes are adorable, but the customary buttercream frosting is too cloying for my taste. Give me a bittersweet chocolate truffle, a puffy raspberry soufflé, or even a gooey Krispy Kreme over a cupcake any day.

HOWEVER

At Ogilvy’s holiday party last night, my perception of these fluffy sugar sponges was forever altered. With the event in full-swing, my friend Nicole and I took a break from mingling to peruse the various food displays. The dessert buffet caught our attention immediately, and for good reason. There, upon an infinitely long table, lay a veritable carpet of tiny cupcakes glittering beneath the recessed scarlet lighting.

Okay, okay, so they were really pretty… maybe I’d try just one.

After selecting a red velvet specimen, I sunk my teeth into the downy dollop of cream cheese that sat perched upon the confection. It was… heavenly. Yes, the frosting was delectably light and not-too-sweet, and the cake itself was heavy enough to be substantive without jockeying for attention over its counterpart. But the real star of the show was the crunchy layer of coarse sugar granules on top that sparkled like newly fallen snow and added the perfect textural variation to counter the soft pastry.

Of course, this revelation got me thinking… why not add the crispy, brittle sugar to my other favorites? A sparse sprinkling on the chocolate truffle; a crust of sugar on top of the raspberry soufflé (with egg whites serving as glue); even a thin, crunchy layer on top of that Krispy Kreme. For this food lush, the possibilities are endless.

(Note: the mini red velvet cupcakes hail from Something Sweet near the National Cathedral in Washington, DC)

Photo credit: L'usine