brown sugar and pecan shortbread

there are two types of people:

those who went to camp and

those who not only didn't,

but don't understand how the

people who did, can recite

a camp song at a moment's notice.

from the age of 6

until the age of 18

i spent my summers

at camp.

some of those years,

i was working,

first as a waitress

(yes, we had waitresses at camp)

and then as a counselor.

most importantly,

the last 10 years were

spent all at the same camp,

making the collection of summers

a huge chunk of my childhood memories.

it was, thank goodness, a former

sleep-away camp that had been

converted into a day camp.

i don't think i was the kind of

kid who could have handled

eight weeks away from my own house.

but we had tennis teams and ceramics,

jewelry-making and nature,

two swims a day, s'mores,

talent shows, counselor shows,

ultimate frisbee and color war.

on good days we had ice cream sandwiches

or watermelon at snack time.

on bad days? ice pops. usually orange.

when it rained,

we went bowling or roller skating

or stayed in our bunks listening

to a group leader tell us

the same scary story year after year.

and when the last day of camp came,

preciously close to my birthday each year,

we sobbed.

because, above all else,

camp for us was about friends.

friends who lived just far enough

away, that we rarely saw each

other throughout the school year.

who we would send letters to -

when you are young, 20 to 30

minute distances might as

well be the other side of the country -

in efforts to keep in touch during

the winter. friends who somehow

felt like your best friends in

the world, who knew the most

about you, who knew

who kissed who

on the picnic tables

during free swim and knew

who always got the shaft

when the poor waitress

set a tray of nine pizzas down to

a table of 10 girls.

when we were 9, we made lanyards

and crossed our fingers that we would

all get our blue tags so that we

could swim and dive together

in the deepest end of the pool.

by 11, we hosted sleepovers,

trying to stay awake and succeeding,

thanks to the peanut butter cups, twizzlers

and store-bought chocolate chip cookies

we insisted our moms' bought.

at 15 we were waitresses.

we snuck frozen pb&j sandwiches,

from the walk-in every day before we left,

fought over boys

and at the end of the summer,

sang a song about camp

that a couple of girls had written

to the tune of sunshine day from the brady bunch

and hard-knock life from annie

in the counselor show.

and at 16, we planned nights to

have parties at each other's homes,

see tom petty, the cranberries

and once, montel jordan, in concert.

eight weeks at camp is

a year in the real world.

my last day of camp

was a thursday, one day before

the official last day of season.

and one day before i left for college.

non-camp people cannot understand

that. but 12 years later, i still am not ashamed.

pine grove played a big role in my life.

and gave me some of my closest friends.

lauren is from camp - we bonded at 10

after learning that we both had the same

pink towel that boasted ballet slippers

and our names, respectively, in embroidery.

and, my freshmen and sophomore year

college roommate was from camp.

by the end of college,

i had lost touch with almost

everyone, save for lauren.

a few years later, the two of us

got back in touch with one,

another lauren (there were actually

five of them altogether). and a year

after that, we decided to look up

and then find, our friend, alexis.

the first time we went out to dinner -

a group of four 25-year-olds,

not the group of 11-14 teenagers

we once were - i looked around the table

and saw us as 16. sure, now we had

college degrees, jobs, boyfriends (and,

for one, a husband), but it was obvious

that we fell right back into place,

in a way that you can only do with

certain people.

none of us live very close to the others,

but we've stayed in each other's lives

for the past five years: meeting for

dinner, going to each other's weddings

and most recently, alexis' baby shower in june.

alexis' daughter, riley was born in august,

and this past weekend

lauren and i finally met her.

i wanted to bring them something

nice, but let's face it,

i am not crafty.

so, i baked.

(but, um, lauren brought an adorable

onsie - why didn't that cross my mind?)

i turned to one of my favorite books

to rely on: alice medrich's pure dessert

(she of the olive oil and sherry pound cakes).

i have many one-day-i-will-make recipes

mentally marked off in that book

and i was glad to finally bake the

brown sugar and pecan shortbread,

made from raw sugars.

even though i love baking,

when it comes to cookies,

i'm a huge fan of the bar variety.

you mix, press, pat and bake -

no dropping spoonfuls of dough

on cookie sheet after cookie sheet,

cooling the pans, rotating and

spending hours at the oven in

11 minute increments.

usually.

these cookies worked out for

me this time, but normally

they might have a step too

many to be considered

a simple bar cookie.

you make the dough,

which couldn't be simpler:

melted butter

rum

vanilla extract

muscovado sugar

flour

pecans

and

salt,

press it into the foil-lined pan

and then wait several hours.

i got this far and then realized

something: i had no desire to

be in my apartment any more.

larry had been away for work

for several days already and

suddenly, everything seemed

very quiet. so instead of

sucking it up and staying,

i piled

everything -

the pan filled with dough,

the cookbook,

extra pecans for pressing,

demerara sugar for sprinkling

two large knives for cutting,

and a tin for giving - into

a bag and headed to my mom's,

an hour away.

i was a sight,

showing up with

my large pocketbook,

camera bag,

overnight bag,

cookie bag

and no coat,

all for one evening.

and after a few tries,

i was able to explain

to my mom that yes,

i brought unbaked dough

to her house and yes, it

was going to sit on her

counter for a few hours

longer before i have to

bake them,

cut them into squares,

place them on a baking sheet

and bake again.

nothing about this recipe

was hard. at all. i even

cut something resembling

squares without

traumatizing myself.

but, this nutty shortbread

is not especially fast.

it is however bursting

with two types of

raw brown sugar,

toasted pecans,

a rich butteryness

and a slight crunch,

thanks to the second

bake in the oven.

and they're more than

worth it for an old friend.

especially one, that you used to

eat lorna doones with at snacktime,

something i remembered

as i pulled them out of the oven.

i loved these cookies because, yes,

they'll crumble in your mouth,

but they survived a rainy trip to

staten island without breaking.

for me, they were the perfect thing

to bring to alexis and her family.

they ate them, one hand on the cookie,

the other on riley,

just as i hoped it would be.

(oh, and while i was busy baking,

my sister was at a wedding. one of

her camp friends was getting married.)

brown sugar and pecan shortbread

adapted from alice medrich's pure dessert

the original recipe was to be baked in a 8" pan, but i used a 9" so i multiplied everything by one-quarter. i have no idea if that's the correct conversion, but it worked well for me. the other change i made was that i only had dark muscovado sugar and the store did not have any, so i used something called golden bakers, which when eaten out of hand reminded me a bit of dried pineapples. once baked in, it just tasted like a lovely, rich brown sugar. oh, and one last thing: this dough looked kind of funky and overly buttery when i first pressed it into the pan, but by the time i baked it, it looked much more normal, like a real dough.

15 tablespoons (1 stick, 7 tablespoons), unsalted butter, melted and still warm

1/2 cup, plus 2 1/2 tablespoons firmly packed light muscovado or golden bakers sugar

1 1/2 tablespoons dark rum

1 1/3ish teaspoons vanilla extract

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 1/2 cups, plus 6 tablespoons all-purpose flour

heaping 2/3 cup pecans, chopped

demerara, turbinado or granulated sugar for sprinkling (i used demera)

line bottom and sides of 9" baking pan with aluminum foil. in bowl, stir together melted butter, sugar, rum, vanilla extract and salt. add the flour and half the pecans; mix just until combined. transfer to prepared pan. pat in evenly. let stand 2 hours or overnight (no need to refrigerate).

position a rack in the lower third of the oven. heat oven to 300˚f.

sprinkle remaining pecans over the dough; gently press into surface. bake 45 minutes. remove pan from oven (leave the oven on). sprinkle the shortbread with demerara sugar. let cool 10 minutes.

using foil, carefully remove cookies from pan and transfer to cutting board, making sure not to break them. using a sharp, thin, long knife, cut into squares (i made 25). place pieces slightly apart on a parchment or silpat-lined baking sheet. bake 15 minutes; let sit on pan 2 minutes.

using spatula, transfer to cooling rack; let cool completely. transfer to an airtight container.

*i'm not going to lie. in that picture of alexis and riley, she is actually opening lauren's gift. not eating a cookie.

making a memory

sometimes, i consider myself a food person,

someone who knows about trendy ingredients,

the latest gadgets

and the must-visit restaurants.

somebody who likes a lot of different

foods, but is not overly impressed

by everything she eats,

because, she, unfortunately, is a bit particular.

and other times,

i feel like i'm the newest girl on

the culinary block

(proof: i started this blog

about 5 years too late),

shocked by a new kitchen technique,

or truth be told,

an old classic.

scared to try,

yet so intrigued, i can think of little else.

that's how i felt the first time

i learned i could make

marshmallows.

we were in school.

it was the fourth module:

pastry.

i had been looking forward

to this section from the

beginning, knowing, there

wouldn't be any lamb

and that it was where i would

really thrive

(i forgot that pastry requires

a lot of precision for piping, frosting,

dolloping, slicing).

one very, very hard and, i think,

angry, instructor later, i was counting

down the days for the module to

end. i know. it's a familiar story.

but then, during the candy weekend, we

were taught to make

marshmallows -

which we learned were

quite prized in europe and often

brought to restaurant tables in long strips,

before they were

cut into individual squares

for diners,

using fancy marshmallow scissors.

i was instantly smitten by

the idea,

the process,

the whole thing.

before we even made the first

batch, i felt a connection

to marshmallows that i've

never before felt.

sure, i like a good

s'more. so much so

in fact, that we served

them at our wedding.

i did love that when you

add heat -

from an open flame,

a microwave

or an oven,

they change from

a solid, decent-tasting

sweet into a drippy,

sticky, caramelized

mass that seems

determined to make

you smile or swoon.

and i loved that they

usually are associated with

stories, like how in

camp as a child,

we counted

down to the

one day each summer

in which nature class

was not a seemingly boring

exploration of caged bugs

and birds,

but a time that we would

collect sticks, build a small

fire and in the middle of the

day, char a stickfull.

or how my youngest sister

went through a very long

s'more phase and because

it spanned over winter

months, settled for placing

marshmallows on top of

graham crackers and chocolate

chips and microwaving them

for 25 seconds. every time, she

waited until the very last

second before yanking open

the microwave door and watching

the now huge and 

about-to-burst marshmallow

collapse atop the grahams.

all that, but i never really

thought about or cared about

the marshmallow itself.

that day in class,

my partner and i were assigned

rose water marshmallows,

which was the one i was secretly

crosing my fingers not to

have to make, but we got it

and we made it

and i still loved everything

about boiling the mixture,

beating it into fluff

and once smoothed,

letting it sit and cure

before cutting.

(and even after, when a jerk

in my class of adults

dumped a whole

bowl of tempered chocolate

onto them, just because,

it didn't damper my enthusiasm.)

i realized how amazing

marshmallows can be when

they're freshly prepared, using

excellent ingredients. i realized

that they're at once

artisan and rustic.

and i realized that even if my squares

weren't perfectly cut,

no one cared after one bite.

and so, even though i promised myself

that once i left culinary school

i would:

braise everything all winter long,

always make my own chicken stock

and

use as many pots as needed

no matter how much of a mess 

it makes,

making marshmallows

was one of the very few

promises i abided by.

and i still do.

i swear by marshmallows,

a book that boasts combinations

like pear honey and 

sweet potato spice.

i've made absolutely scrumptious

brownies from one of my favorite

cookbooks,

demolition desserts,

using homemade marshmallows

and homemade graham crackers

and i constantly search for new

recipes.

this one, featured 

about a year and a half

ago in gourmet, was one of the simplest.

if you've never made marshmallows

before, i strongly 

recommend that you start with this 

relatively simple recipe.

i hope that if you try a batch,

you love to make them as much 

as i do.

but i give you this recipe

and this story,

fully aware that feeling

like marshmallows may be your calling, 

like marshmallows may be the one thing

you feel a true connection to in the kitchen

is kind of weird and 

probably not for everyone.

and in that case, 

i hope you just like

eating them. 

and, that you have a wooded area

nearby so that you can 

pick a stick, 

light a (safe) fire

and create your own s'more memories.

toasted coconut marshmallows

adapted from gourmet magazine

i know that coconut is not everyone's favorite and i haven't tried  it yet, but i have to believe that you could substitute finely crushed almonds or ground chocolate for the coating. or, if you want plain marshmallows, mix together two parts confectioners' sugar and one part cornstarch. don't coat the pan with this mixture. instead, once they're firm, toss the entire marshmallow in. they are so unbelievably sticky before they're coated - but don't worry, the coatings have an impressive effect on them. also, like many candies, it's best to make marshmallows on a dry day.

if you become serious about marshmallow (or candy) making, a battery-operated thermometer is a great tool that beeps so that you don't have to stand and stare and give yourself an inadvertant facial waiting for the syrup to come to temperature.

2 cups unsweetened dried coconut

3 (1/4 oz.) envelopes unflavored gelatin

1 cup water, divided

1 1/2 cups sugar

1 cup light corn syrup

1/4 teaspoon salt

1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract

place oven rack in center of oven. heat oven to 350˚f.

place coconut in shallow baking pan; place in oven and bake 7 to 10 minutes, stirring occasionally, or until golden brown. oil bottom and sides of 9x9 baking pan with 1/2 cup toasted coconut. set aside. place 1/2 cup water in bowl of electric stand mixer; sprinkle gelatin over water.

in saucepot over low heat, combine sugar, corn syrup, salt and remaining water; stir until sugar dissolves. bring mixture to a boil over medium heat, without stirring. using moist pastry brush, wash down any sugar crystals that appear on the side of the pan. put thermometer into syrup and cook (without stirring) until thermometer registers 240˚f. remove from heat and let stand until bubbles dissipate.

turn mixer onto low speed. in a slow steady speed, carefully pour hot syrup into gelatin mixture. increase speed to high and beat 15 minutes, or until very thick. add vanilla extract and beat 1 minute more.

immediately pour marshmallow mixture into prepared pan and press with dampened fingers to smooth the top. sprinkle with 1/2 cup toasted coconut. let stand uncovered 2 hours, or until firm.

run a sharp knife around the edge of pan; invert onto cutting board. cut into 3/4" wide strips and then cut into 3/4" squares. toss marshmallows in coconut (in small batches) to coat completely. i like to dip all sides one at a time.

*we were so lucky to find kella macphee, our wedding photographer, who took both beautiful and memorable pictures at our reception. she took the second two pictures in this post, the blazing marshmallow and us, making our own s'mores.

*the first picture of the marshmallows came from my mom's house. she was forced to deal with me, carrying a plastic container of marshmallows, asking for her camera and then ransacking her cabinets for interesting or colorful dishes, all before i took my coat off. we decided to go with her huge white corian dining room table. different, but fun, i think.