Resolutions: Eat More Daim Cookies

Almond toffee cookies with a lick of chocolate.

As I write this, it’s December 13th, the day after the glorious last full moon of the decade (1990 was THIRTY YEARS AGO), and I am listening to a potent combination of rain, sleet, and drizzly snow hitting the new skylight on my new roof that, up until two weeks ago, had developed a leak.

There is a spice cake in the oven for Sarah, owner of Yoga Tree Baltimore, and I am not quite sure what to do with myself while I wait for the cake to cool. I have been thinking about the year that is coming to an end, and it’s taking up a lot of mental space (as you can tell by this sentence, which is less than stellar, if I am being honest. Which I always try to be.).

I have been, as is my wont and millions of others’s, too, as the clock winds down the calendar, reflective. I am not one of the people who shun resolutions, but I don’t also have a lot of faith in them either. Case in point: last year’s (2019) New Year’s resolutions. Other than using my time more effectively and exploring Baltimore a little more (very little more, as it turns out), I accomplished exactly zero of these resolutions.

In fact, 2019 was precisely nothing like I thought it would be. The summer was chaotic and sad, money was tight, a good friend died, and my house started falling apart (a lintel fell off, then the roof leaked).

In 2019, between housing issues and taxes, I spent $30,000 on unexpected expenses. Which is enough to make it impossible to travel or go on retreat or any of the things I had planned.

On the other hand, I published two poems and was accepted into my first juried art show (won second place!), and I am going on retreat to The Woods with Writers & Words and Ink Press Productions in January. I submitted a ton of work, got some good acceptances (and some terrible rejections), but also constructive, positive feedback on a few of my pieces.

Khristian and I built a camping platform on our land in Canada, and we have found an ally in one of the other homeowners there, kindred Canadian spirits who I met accidentally on a walk and am so glad that I did.

I am not here to tell you how to set resolutions or change your life. I am no expert, no self-help guru, and I would not presume to tell you how to live your life. I have had years when things went closely to plan, and others when nothing I planned worked out but other things rushed in to fill the void. Turns out, sometimes when a plan goes awry, it makes space for new discoveries and serendipitous occurrences.

These cookies, or the name at least, is one of those. They are your standard lace cookie, and I made them one night when I needed something sweet but was too lazy to hit the store and the cupboards were mostly bare. So I whipped these up in 30 minutes and had to remove myself physically so as not to eat them all.

Sicily tried them, and said, “Oh, these are Daim cookies.”

You may or may not be a visitor to IKEA, but they have these candies in their shop, Daim, that are bits of toffee covered in chocolate. We used to buy them all the time until they changed the recipe and they tasted off so we stopped.

These cookies taste exactly like the original Daim, a happy accident that nevertheless takes me exactly where I want to go when I want a delicious sweet thing with a bare minimum of ingredients and effort.

Enjoy.

Daim Cookies

(makes between 18 and 24 cookies)

Ingredients

1 stick butter

2/3 cup lightly packed brown sugar

3/4 cup almond flour

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon light corn syrup

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

optional: 1/2 cup chocolate chips

Instructions

Melt butter in a saucepan over medium heat. Add sugar, flour, salt, and corn syrup, cooking and whisking constantly until sugar has dissolved and ingredients are combined. Turn off heat and whisk in vanilla extract. This may make the mixture appear grainy, but that’s ok.

Let mixture rest ten minutes (it will become thicker as it cools down). Preheat oven to 350°F.

Line baking sheets with parchment (I used three baking sheets). You could also use silicone baking sheets.

Spoon teaspoons of mixture onto sheets (leave 3” on all sides) Bake for six to eight minutes until golden brown around the edges. Cookies are done when they are no longer bubbling.

Do not walk away. Burning happens very quickly. #askmehowIknow

Allow cookies to cool for five minutes on the baking sheets. If you don’t have more to bake, you can leave them to cool on the baking sheet, or you can transfer to a wire rack.

You can eat these as they are, or you can melt chocolate chips in a saucepan and either paint to bottoms of the cookies with a thin coat of chocolate, drizzle it over top, or sandwich two cookies together (use a little more chocolate for this than if you were just painting a single layer).

Cover and keep on the counter for three days or in the ‘fridge for up to a week.

Let Them Eat Cake

I cain’t quit you.

I was about to let this blog go. Not the name, you understand – just the process of writing a blog every month.

But then…cake.

You should know that cake is the world’s perfect food, or at least in a three-way (tie) with watermelon and pizza.

I love it the best and the most and will eat it every day if I can. I believe in the power of cake for breakfast, lunch, and dinner.

Perhaps most importantly for the purposes of this missive, I enjoy baking cakes for people. I like to see their faces when they open the box, and the whites of their eyes when they take their first bite.

That last little bit is creepy, but I mean it in the nicest way possible.

Additionally, if I made all of the cake I want to make/eat, the fit of my clothing would become problematic.

So, hello, you. Let me bake a cake for you.

I have updated my “Let Me Bake For You” page to list the offerings that are available.

Since I want baking to continue to be enjoyable, I won’t accept more orders than I can make with love (seriously. I know that sounds hokey or saccharine or whatever, but I mean it). If you want a cake, stake your claim early in the month and slap your money on the barrelhead (or the Venmo or PayPal – the 21st-century barrelhead).

If you want to give a cake to a person, I suppose I could whip you up a gift certificate for that person. Get in touch.

And if you want something other than a cake, get in touch. I could maybe work something out for you.

Oh, and hey. Share this post with a friend, using the buttons. I am off the Facebook but still use Instagram.

You can also take pix of your cakes and post on Instagram with my inventive hashtag: #charmcityedibles. That would not suck.

Back To Fall: Frangipane Tart With Bourbon Brown Sugar Peaches

pastry tart with peaches on a wooden cutting board — *Peach and almond delicious.*

August might just be the very best month of the summer.

I realize this is a blasphemous statement to place at the very top of September’s post, but bear with me.

There is a tart at the end of all of this.

For the second year in a row, Khristian and I have headed to Canada to spend a few weeks in the lovely province of New Brunswick, camping on a piece of raw land we purchased last year and gazing out at the creeping fog of the Bay of Fundy.

The Bay of Fundy is out there. Somewhere.

While this blog post was initially going to be titled, “How to build a camping platform without murdilating your partner,” I have mellowed somewhat, basted as I have been over the past two weeks in salt air and the chittering of squirrels.

*No one was harmed in the making of this deck.*

Coming home, and walking to the farmer’s market this morning, I realized that August is the best month of summer.

First, yes, it’s usually hotter than hell, but most people have their summer gear dialed in at this point and are capable of finding water or keeping cool. Many people head to the beach at this time (perfect time to avoid it, IMVHO), or just find some friends and a piece of shade to hang out in.

In short, by August, we are all used to the hellish weather and a little more relaxed about it. Sure, there’s still chatter on the topic but it’s less offended and more accepting, a sort of late summer resignation.

Next, by the time August rolls around, the frenetic new energy of the summer is chilled out. In June and July, everyone tries to do allofthethings, feels, in fact, COMPELLED to do them, but by August, much like that wild patch of overgrown, spindly, weighted down trio of tomato plants on your balcony and the overabundance of zucchini packed in ziploc baggies in your freezer, we have all given up. Sure, we still do someofthethings, but mostly it’s at a more leisurely pace. We are in our groove. Laid back.

It’s like we finally realize how long the days actually are in summer and just stop rushing around.

This more relaxed vibe is what all the commercials are actually talking about in April, looking towards summer. We just don’t get there until August. Add two eclipses and Mercury in retrograde during the entire month of July, and that’s some frantic shit right there. August is one big, fat exhale.

And then as August winds down? SCHOOL SUPPLIES.

Not back-to-school shopping, which sucks at any age, but school supplies. Fresh notebooks; new, full-to-the-brim ink pens; post-its; planners; and, if you’re lucky, a brand-new Trapper Keeper.

In college, the promise and possibility (and unfortunate expense) of new textbooks. I am probably the only person in history who didn’t mind the expense, but then again, I believe you can never spend too much on books.

August is the best. It leads into the productive energy of the fall in preparation for the hibernation of winter. This gentle seasonal slope makes me more motivated and often more creative – I do some of my best work in August and September. It’s like a reset.

I come back to the kitchen more energized, usually, and am baking with a ferocity that usually evaporates in mid-summer’s heat. Right now I am smelling the beginning notes of Frank’s Holy Bundt, unsurprisingly posted first on this blog on September 1st two years ago.

This time of the year the farmer’s markets are overflowing with abundance as well. Everything summer comes to a peak right now, perfect timing for canning, preserving, and otherwise storing away the easy bounty of summer against winter’s leaner feel.

Today I walked through Hampden in the sparkling sunshine, stopped at a neighborhood pear tree to see how things were going, and came away from the market with peaches, green beans, and a zucchini the size of my femur bone (put half in the current Holy Bundt and am freezing the other half for the next one).

The peaches. Man.

Everyone talks about South Carolina or Georgia peaches, but Maryland peaches kick their ass in a peach fistfight. They have more flavor and silkier flesh than their southern cousins, and the farm I bought from today is 30 miles from my back porch.

I ate one on the way home, and saved the others for this, my frangipane tart. Frangipane seems like a really complicated thing, mostly because its correct pronunciation eludes me, but that’s about it. It has a delicate almond flavor but still holds up like a more rustic dessert. The first time I made it with an apple butter caramel swirl on top I couldn’t cram it into my gaping maw fast enough. It wasn’t too sweet and had a tender, light crumb.

This time, some peaches and some bourbon and some lemon and some peach marmalade from Italy brighten the whole thing up.

You could also swap plums for the peaches and switch the bourbon to rum. Or use tart apples tossed in brown sugar, a squeeze of lemon, and some cinnamon. I’d like to try a banoffee version (bananas and toffee caramel), but that might be for the holidays.

Enjoy the last few days of summer.

Frangipane Tart With Bourbon Brown Sugar Peaches

Ingredients

Crust

½ cup whole toasted almonds

1 ¼ cups gluten-free all-purpose flour

¼ cup sugar

¼ teaspoon salt

1 stick chilled butter, cut into pieces

2 tablespoons ice water

Filling

1 ¼ cup whole almonds

¼ cup brown sugar, packed

6 tablespoons butter, at room temperature OR melted and cooled

1 large egg

1 egg white

1 capful vanilla extract (see Recipe Notes)

1 teaspoon bourbon

2 teaspoons lemon zest

2 big peaches (between a tennis ball and a softball size)

Glaze

¼ cup peach preserves

3 tablespoons bourbon

2 tablespoons brown sugar

½ teaspoon lemon juice

Method

Preheat oven to 375°.

Start with your crust. Pulse almonds in food processor until they are finely chopped. Add flour, sugar, and salt and process until almonds are ground into meal.

Pulse butter in until mixture resembles sand. Mix in enough water to form moist clumps. Once this happens, turn the dough directly into your tart pan and press into shape (see Recipe Notes for what to do if you use regular flour). Use a piece of plastic wrap to keep your hands clean and press dough evenly into the sides and bottom of the tart pan. The goal is an equal thickness all around, about 1/8”.

Cover tart pan and refrigerate at least two hours or overnight.

When you are ready to bake, place tart pan on baking sheet and poke several times with a fork. You can place a piece of parchment on top of the crust and fill the crust with blind baking beads or rice, which will prevent the edges of the tart from shrinking and which I usually forget to do.

Bake crust 10 minutes, popping any additional bubbles that arise with a toothpick if you have not filled your crust with the baking beads or rice. If you are using parchment, remove the parchment after 15 minutes to allow the bottom to cook. Crust may take up to 20 minutes to become a pale golden color – be patient.

Cool tart while you make the filling.

Blend almonds in food processor until they break into smaller pieces. Add remaining sugar butter, eggs, extracts, bourbon, and lemon zest and continue to pulse until almonds are finely ground and ingredients are well mixed. Spread the filling in your crust.

Wash and slice the peaches into ½” slices (ish. No need to be precious. This is a rustic tart). Place peaches in a spiral pattern (or any pattern, really) into the top of the tart, pressing gently to make sure they stick into the filling. The filling should come up the sides of the peaches a little.

Bake tart on baking sheet until frangipane is puffed and golden, between 30 and 45 minutes.

While the tart bakes, prepare the glaze. Stir brown sugar, bourbon, and lemon juice in a small saucepan over medium heat until mixture just boils and sugar is completely dissolved (this happens quickly). Strain glaze into a bowl.

Transfer the tart to a cooling rack and brush the entire surface with the glaze.

When completely cool, release the tart from the pan and serve to much adoration. A little unsweetened whip cream (or with just a tiny splash of almond extract) is delicious on this. If you’re especially fancy, garnish with chopped fresh lemon balm.

Recipe Notes

I used McKenna bourbon in this recipe, a seriously underrated, easy drinking and mixing bourbon. It is young and cheap and thus smooth and sweeter, with notes of caramel and vanilla. It goes well with the flavors of this tart and costs less than $15 a bottle. Go get some.
If you use regular flour, do not place the crust directly in the pan; follow the typical crust recipe, which is to bring the dough together by turning it out of the food processor after you incorporate the water and kneading gently before forming it into a ball, wrapping it in plastic and chilling it at least two hours. Then, roll the dough out on a floured surface before placing into your tart pan and baking.
Prepare the crust a day ahead, chilling overnight in the ‘fridge and then baking the next day.
Tart can sit at room temperature for eight hours before serving, but you should plan to eat it on day one. The crust softens in the ‘fridge overnight, so you don’t get that snap the next day. Still delicious for breakfast.

Fondant Fancies, Or How To Get Back On The Horse

*This recipe inspired by the Great Canadian Baking Show.*

I just watched The. Dumbest. Movie. about unicorns on Netflix.

Call it boredom. Call it curiosity. Call it straight-up avoidance, but I clicked “play” and watched the whole thing. There goes 90 minutes of my life I will never get back.

Part of my clicking “play” on a really stupid movie is me floundering about a little, trying to figure out whatthefuck is next. After a month off of social media and with a few important deadlines looming, deadlines that have nothing to do with mercenary writing and everything to do with my own personal creative practice, my brain and body just don’t really know which end is up. It’s like riding a horse backwards, a little. Possible, but ill-advised.

Adding to the mental fog, this week has been a wild ride in other important ways.

Started off by putting my stressed out kid on a plane to Paris for a month.

Then I picked up my dog’s ashes and pawprint, which sent me back into grief, not just for the loss of the dog but also for every bit of loss from the past decade and a half – a long series of just having something or someone I love ripped away on a regular basis. In no particular order: A baby. A houseful of belongings. A parent. A house. A school. A husband. A horse. More belongings. A dog.

It’s a lot to deal with on a random Tuesday.

So I baked some things. It doesn’t really matter why or how, but a month ago I committed to donating four dozen sweet things to a writing conference my friend organized for Baltimore City College, and the due date for those sweet things was this week.

Two of the four dozen were Fondant Fancies, fiddly little things that required several hours of baking and fussing over. In conjunction with the other two dozen sweet things (individual Chocolate Covered Cherry Cream Pies), this baking occupied enough time and mental space to get me to the end of the Tuesday of Loss Remembrance.

And then after I delivered them on Wednesday morning, I took the remaining dog for a five-mile walk. As we got back to the car, sweaty and thirsty, I felt an overwhelming sweep of gratitude, even among all of the Lost Things, that I could bake all day for a friend, and then go out on the first truly beautiful spring day and walk through the woods with my dog. It’s a privilege and a blessing that I do not take for granted.

If you are feeling the need for making something special or avoiding something or just want to distract yourself with something other than a really, really dumb movie, give these a try. I didn’t find them too technically challenging – just time and patience-intensive.

p.s. If you want the recipe for Chocolate Covered Cherry Cream Pies, comment below the recipe.

p.p.s. Oh, and hey, if you like what you read, think about subscribing to this blog. You get one email when I post – that’s it. No ads, nothing more.

Fondant Fancies(makes 25 pieces)

Ingredients

Cake

2 sticks very soft butter

225 grams sugar (about 1 cup)

4 room-temperature eggs

225 grams gluten-free all-purpose flour (about 1 1/2 cups)

2 teaspoons baking powder

1/2 teaspoon salt

grated rind of one lemon

Buttercream and topping

1 stick very soft butter

3/4 cup powdered sugar

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 jar seedless jam (your choice, but I used raspberry and you won’t use it all in this recipe, so get something you like)

1 tube marzipan paste (see Recipe Notes)

Powdered sugar for rolling

Two bags Wilton candy melts (see Recipe Notes)

1/2 cup coconut oil

Dark chocolate, chopped (optional, for decoration)

Equipment: parchment paper, 8″ square cake pan, cooling rack, rolling pin, ruler, two rimmed cookie sheets, piping bag, squeeze bottle.

Method

For the cake: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter an 8″ square cake pan and line with parchment paper, then butter the paper, too. Set aside.

Place butter and sugar in a stand mixer and cream with a paddle (this paddle is the best – not a sponsored post!) until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, mixing to combine thoroughly after each egg.

Combine flour, baking powder, salt, and grated lemon rind in a bowl and mix to combine. Add to butter mixture and mix to combine, scraping down the side of the bowl. Batter will be pretty thick – this is ok.

Tip batter into prepared tin and level the surface with an offset spatula.

Bake for 30-40 minutes or until the top is light brown and springy and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Do not open the oven while it’s baking or it will sink in the middle.

Cool in the pan for ten minutes and then cool completely on a rack. You can make the buttercream while you wait.

For the buttercream: Add softened butter, powdered sugar, and vanilla extract to the clean bowl of your stand mixer. Use the whip attachment to beat until light and fluffy. You want frosting that is completely smooth and easy to spread. If it seems stiff, add some milk, just a teaspoon at a time, and whip thoroughly in between additions.

When the cake is completely cool, cut it into two horizontal layers. Spread a thin layer of raspberry jam evenly on the bottom layer, then place the top layer back.

Spread an even layer of buttercream on the top of the cake only and place in the ‘fridge.

Note: You will have leftover buttercream. Place it between graham crackers. Eat all the time.

Dust the clean counter liberally with powdered sugar and roll your marzipan paste to an 8″ square that is 1 /16″ thick (or thereabouts).

Place the marzipan on top of the buttercream and press down very lightly, then chill for another ten to 15 minutes. Have a coffee. Check your email.

Once chilled, remove the cake and, using a ruler, cut squares that are 1 1/2″ by 1 1/2″. Try to keep your cuts straight and neat, and remove any stray crumbs to keep the sides clean.

Set on a cooling rack over a rimmed cookie sheet (like a jellyroll pan). Place in ‘fridge while you prepare the candy melts.

Melt the candy melts in and coconut oil in a saucepan (or in the microwave if you have one – I do not), then transfer to a squeeze bottle with a wide opening (I cut mine wider).

Remove the cakes from the ‘fridge, and carefully coat each square with candy melt mixture. Periodically transfer the cakes to another pan and scrape the candy melt mixture that has dribbled off into the pan under the cakes and put it back in the squeeze bottle (use a funnel).

Make sure each square is fully coated.

If you’d like, allow the candy melt mixture to set (not in the ‘fridge – on the counter is fine) before melting some dark chocolate, placing it in a piping bag with a tiny opening, and drizzling all fancy-like over the squares.

Pro-tip: You can make this cake over several days, and finished squares are delicious for about a week (although the cake is not as springy).

Recipe Notes

Marzipan paste can be homemade, but I wanted to control some of the variables and so used pre-made paste. It can be found in the baking aisle. I have made my own in the past, and it’s worth the effort if the marzipan is the star.

Technically, fondant fancies use something called pâte à glacer as a coating. This is very, very similar to Wilton candy melts, and candy melts are widely available and much, much cheaper. I used vibrant green candy melts, but I also experimented with Mary Berry’s suggestion to use powdered sugar thinned with milk and tinted with food coloring. MISTAKE. Thin, too sweet, and flavorless. The coconut oil added to the candy melts makes the glaze more supple and adds a delicious flavor that complements the lemon, raspberry, and vanilla. If you want a neutral flavor (no coconut) you could use vegetable oil instead of coconut.

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