Say Happy Tuesday with a Story & Decorated Sugar Cookies

I keep thinking about Valentine's Day and wondering why, despite what feels like my best efforts, I end up stuck when I try to write about it.  I have no problem with the day, even though its focus is on gift giving and coupledom, two things I find offensively overemphasized in our society.  This notwithstanding, as a rule, I relish any holiday that provides an excuse to pay more attention to the people I like paying attention to, and that embraces goofiness with heartfelt gusto.  Halloween and Valentine's Day probably rank as the top two for taking goofiness to new heights, and Valentine's Day is really keen on paying attention to those we love best.  So, I wonder, why have I had trouble putting pen to paper, as it were, about The Day?

I think it may be at least in part because I'm keenly aware of the false expectations The Day conjures up for most people, much like those conjured up on any given Saturday night in the Land of the Dateless Adolescent.  While I don't feel the need to do more than say “Happy Valentine's Day” upon waking, and, until this relationship, I haven't received (and, so, haven't expected) Valentine's Day gifts, I'm aware that the day itself holds some weird, uncomfortable energy for people who do expect something.  Like those Dateless Adolescents on a flat Saturday night, they feel like something should happen.  They've no doubt that the masses will ask how it was, and they know that they'll have nothing of value to offer in response.  It isn't enough to say that the day was fine.  Flowers or candy or jewelry must have crossed the threshold for the day to be awarded any real merit.  For some reason, we falter at the idea of having a Valentine's Day that doesn't measure up the expectations of the masses.

Our Valentine's Day this year was a nice enough day, but it was Tuesday that was truly special.

Sunday, The Day, started with a beautiful morning followed by a brown kind of day.  The only reason it turned brown at all was that we allowed the world outside to invade our quiet and bang around for a bit.  Once we regained our balance, we had an evening filled with sweetness.

(Sweetness and a touch of food poisoning.  We tried a new sushi restaurant and left feeling, as Evan says, slimed.  Even though the food was highly mediocre and, come Monday, not a distant enough memory at all, the company was perfect, and we both felt happy and loved for the rest of the evening.  Monday brought prayers for swift deaths, but that's not a story you want to hear.)

On Tuesday, we awoke to snow covered everything.  The world outside was fluffy and white and oh so quiet.  We watched as the tiny flakes continued to fall, and marveled at the beauty.   The chickadees played on the lilac branches that rest on our bedroom windows, making us chuckle and reminding us that it was a good day, if we were at all inclined to forget.

We laid on our bed, watching the birds and squirrels outside, and talking about the animals we had known in our lives.  Some comment or other sparked Evan's memory and, mumbling enthusiastically about a dog and a story, he jumped up, gracefully sidestepped a cat doing the tango across his path, and left the room.

“You'll love this,” he said as he walked back in, flipping through the pages of E.B.White's book of essays, The Points of My Compass, while peeking over the top of it in time to step over yet another cat shimmying happily in place. 

He turned to an essay called Bedfellows, propped up his pillows and began reading in his deep, rich, very best storytelling voice.

“It's about White's dog, Fred.  I love this story,”  Evan, a great lover of both E.B.White and animals, smiled as he settled back into his spot with the contentment of a man about to be enveloped by the warmth of a good story.

Fred was a vibrant character in life and remains one still, long after his departure, thanks to White.  Evan read about Fred's bogus pedigree and generally shady past, his too-firm convictions, unwavering paranoia and exaggerated commentary until we laughed so hard that tears filled our eyes and he had to stop reading for a minute.  He read as White voiced his conviction that Fred was not especially loyal so much as obsessive, and his annoyance at the way Fred hogged the covers in bed and insisted on walking ahead of him when they surveyed their country property together.   His voice catching ever so slightly, Evan brought to life White's revelation that Fred's was the only grave he ever visited and how, seven years after Fred's death, White still felt him always nearby.

When he finished reading, Evan rested the closed book on his chest, and we talked about dogs we'd known, and places we'd lived with them.  We talked about our own odd family of cats and ducks, chickens and rabbits, all former rescues and strays, and their adorably quirky personalities.  We talked about White's writing, and our own  writing, and came to the firm conclusion that it was a perfect kind of a day.

Waldo doing his impression of a Macy's parade float

And it was.  It was a perfect Valentine's Day.  Had the planets been properly aligned when Hallmark's New Holiday Committee chose the official date for Valentine's Day, making it February 16 instead of February 14, I would have had an easy go at writing a lovely story about The Day.  Instead, I struggled.  I had misunderstood for a minute.  I thought that I was writing about The Day, rather than about the day.

Our stomachs have regained their ability to digest food, so much so that we ate sushi again last night.  (We went back to our tried and true favorite sushi restaurant, however, deciding to shun experimentation and adventure where raw fish is involved, at least until the memory of the aftereffects of Sunday's culinary adventure fades sufficiently, and we've restocked the Pepto.)  Evan continues to read stories from The Points of My Compass, but now he has to go find it first, since I snatch it when he puts it down and fail ever to return it to its place.  I love to read White, but I love most the sound of his words spoken by Evan's voice.

I want a day like Tuesday to be our Valentine's Day from now on.  It doesn't have to actually be a Tuesday and it doesn't even have to be in February.  Any snowy or rainy or sunny day will do.  And no flowers or candy or jewelry need pass over the threshold.  We need only a window and a comfortable spot, some cats snuggled up against our legs, each other and a good story.

Happy Valentine's Day.

(I mean every word I write, and I write them with a full heart.  I am not, however, giving back the exquisite square cut peridot earrings Evan gave me on The Day.  I mean, come on.)

HOUDINI'S SUGAR COOKIES

Ingredients

½ cup butter, softened
1 cup sugar
3 eggs
4 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 ¼ teaspoons baking powder
¼ cup citrus juice
1 teaspoon good vanilla

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 325 degrees (F).

1.Cream together the butter and sugar until smooth and fluffy.  Beat in the eggs, one at a time. 

2.Mix together the flour and baking powder, incorporating them fully.  (I do this by placing a strainer over my mixing bowl and putting the flour and the baking powder in the strainer, and then straining the dry mixture into the wet mixture.  The flour and baking power are fully incorporated this way.  You can use a good old-fashioned sifter, too.)  Thoroughly mix together the flour and the butter mixtures.

3.Add the juice (I usually use either pineapple or orange juice, though any citrus will work) and vanilla, and mix well.

4.On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough to your desired thickness.  The dough puffs only a bit, so the thickness you roll is, roughly, the thickness of your finished cookie. 

5.Using cookie cutters or the open end of a drinking glass, cut out shapes.

6.Place the cookies on a baking sheet with the raw edge up.  Bake for about 7-8 minutes, removing them from the oven before they brown.  Cool slightly before transferring the cookies to a wire rack.

7.Once the cookies have completely cooled, they're ready to decorate.

If you plan to store the cookies for a while, you can freeze or refrigerate them in an airtight container.  Freeze them without frosting; defrost thoroughly prior to frosting.

ROYAL ICING

Ingredients

1 large egg white  (Remember that this is going to remain uncooked, so use only pasteurized eggs.  You can also use meringue powder equivalent to 1 large egg white plus water, following the directions on the container.)

1 ½ cups confectioner's sugar, sifted

1 teaspoon clear vanilla   (Regular vanilla will cause your white frosting to turn a beige color.  If you plan to tint all of your frosting, you don't need clear vanilla.)
Preparation for Stiff Consistency

This consistency dries hard, and is used for outlining, writing and making shapes.  

1.  In a large bowl, whisk the egg white.  Beat in vanilla.

2.Add the confectioner's sugar, ¼ cup at a time, to the egg mixture, beating well after each addition. Beat on high setting until the icing is stiff and glossy.

Preparation for Flooding Consistency

Use this consistency when you are filling in an outlined surface with frosting.  It's a much thinner consistency, and is used to fill in designs.  After letting it dry thoroughly, you can pipe stiff Royal icing over the flooded area.

Prepare using the recipe for Stiff Consistency, adding  warm water at about 1  tablespoon at a time.  Beat until the icing dissolves into itself on the count of three when you lift the paddle of your mixer.

You'll pipe this onto your cookie, or you can use a fine paint brush.

Coloring Frosting

I use Wilton gels, but you use any food coloring you like.  Divide the frosting into little bowls and add your color, mixing thoroughly.  If you're using gels, start with just a little and increase slowly.  The color is much more intense with much less gel than it would be if you were using liquid coloring.

~As you can see from my cookies, I'm not particularly good at piping yet.  It takes practice.

I'm not even going to comment on this...

Check Our Simply Life's Giveaway

Simply Life is having a Chobani Yogurt giveaway!

Sugar (Putz) Brownies

Their name notwithstanding, Sugar (Putz) Brownies are pretty basic brownies. The recipe doesn’t call for anything particularly interesting or different, and the technique is hardly unique. They are delicious brownies, but so are others. In fact, the relative normalness of the brownies is revealed in heading on the little recipe card which reads, simply, Brownies. I named them Sugar (Putz) Brownies after hearing their story.

Evan and his mother spent much of their time together as a family of two. Evan’s parents divorced when he was a teenager and his older brother went off to create his own family. Evan and Houdini’s bond was loving and, when Houdini died, Evan became the keeper of her recipes. 

Several years ago, Evan mentioned that his mother’s brownies were the best he’d ever had. It was a “one pot” recipe which, in his younger days, he’d made himself upon occasion. As he spoke, he pulled a little tin box out of the cupboard. He said he thought the recipe would be in the box, since it held some of her favorite recipes. 

He stood there, in the kitchen, resting his hand gently on the little tin box while he told me the story of would become Sugar (Putz) Brownies.

Evan was in his late teens or very early twenties when, one day, he decided to make brownies. He found his mother’s recipe and set out baking. He dug out a big pot and lit the stove, melting the shortening and unsweetened chocolate before adding the rest of the ingredients. While he measured and mixed, he sang to the music playing on the radio and made plans for the evening with a friend who telephoned. He prepared the pan, poured the batter in, slipped it into the hot oven and stood waiting impatiently for those delicious, chocolatey bits of heaven to bake.

Evan, unlike me, waits for baked goods to cool before tasting them, saving his tongue from the little burns and blisters I sport so regularly. True to form, he refused to taste the brownies before they reached a safe temperature. As he waited, they teased his senses, sitting before  him looking so rich and lusciously brown, their chocolate aroma filling the kitchen, begging for him to pick just one crumb up and touch it to his mouth. 

He resisted, waiting until, finally, they were cool enough to eat. He cut a big square along the edge, scooped it out of the pan and put it to his lips. Closing his eyes (everyone knows it’s impossible to truly enjoy chocolate with open eyes, after all), he took a huge bite, fully confident that his senses were about to be tickled by that delectable chocolate brownie of his childhood. 

But instead of the sweet, smooth chocolate-laced gooeyness he so loved, his mouth suddenly harbored a tangy-bitter blob of wet flour and salt. 

“AAAUUUCCCCCCHHHHHH,” resonated through the house. 

He spit the offensive concoction into the sink and frantically scraped his fouled tongue with a paper towel before it disintegrated entirely under the influence of the disgusting substance engulfing it. His tongue rubbed raw and his mouth still tingling, he seized the little card from its resting place, and scanned it for its flaw. The stupid recipe was wrong. He went through each ingredient, remembering very distinctly putting it in the big pot. 

Shortening…yes, he had a specific memory of wondering, as he carefully measured it, how something so gross could make so delicious a flavor. Unsweetened chocolate…yes, he clearly recalled breaking it into sections and then breaking each section in half before putting it in the pot, a piece at a time. Sugar. Sugar…sugar….Sugar.

Oh.

Not one to knowingly blame the innocent, he quickly revised his position and made a mental note that sugar, especially four cups of it, is probably crucial to the success of a batch of brownies. And always one to laugh at himself, he immediately edited the recipe card, adding (putz) after the word sugar.

I love the visual of him spewing brownie and then laughing his hearty laugh at himself. I suspect his mother got a tremendous kick out of the murder of her ever-so-simple brownie recipe, and I can hear the two of them laughing at each subsequent telling of the story. 

I made the brownies for him for the first time the night he told me the story, and as I presented them to him, I was still chuckling at the visual of him spewing the would-be brownies all over the sink. 

“Wow, what did you make?” He scooped up a big square and bit into it with abandon.

“Your mother’s brownies,” I announced. 

“Mmmmm,” he said through a mouthful of brownie, flashing his most charming smile at me.  “I love that you made yours with sugar.”

SUGAR (PUTZ) BROWNIES 

 

(I’ve made some changes. The card gives you Houdini’s ingredients; I’ve given mine below. Both make delicious brownies.)

Ingredients

 

1 1/3 cups butter

8 oz. dark chocolate or unsweetened chocolate

Dark chocolate chips to taste (I use a full bag, plus some)

4 cups sugar

4 teaspoons good vanilla

8 eggs

3 cups unbleached all purpose flour

½ teaspoon salt

Preparation

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees (F)

Grease and flour an 8 x 12 cake pan (Or, if, like us, you like a lot of sides and top, grease 2 of them.)

1.  In a big pot, melt the butter and chocolate.

Remove from heat and add the sugar and vanilla, thoroughly incorporating each ingredient before adding the next.

2.  Add the eggs, one at a time, incorporating each thoroughly. Add the flour and salt. Mix thoroughly.

Pour into the prepared pan (or pans), and add the chocolate chips to the top. 

(The chips will sink a bit during baking because of their weight. If you like them in the bottom of the baked brownie, add them to the mix prior to pouring it into the pans. Sometimes I pour some peanut butter chips onto half of the batter, too.)

Tap the filled pan on the counter a couple of times.  It helps pop air bubbles as it settles the batter evenly in the pan.

3.  Bake for 45 to 60 minutes*, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. (This can be a trick since it’s just as easy to hit a chocolate chip, making your toothpick look gooey and wet. You’ll have to judge the difference between batter and melted chip if, like me, you put so many chips in that you can’t possibly find a chip-free zone.)

*Note that your baking time will be cut in about half, depending on your oven, if you've used two big baking dishes instead of one. 

And there you have Sugar (Putz) Brownies.

 GraphicsFairy