i got a tall order of shortbread on my countertop the other day.
i was wondering if i could make some sort of danish dopeness,
with the big sugar, and the heavy butter game,
like in the olden days of my misspent and mayhem-laden mishap-slapped
unhappy stretch of young adulthood.
my elderlies, back in the day, eternally had those danish butter jauns
in the round red or blue metal tins,
and i used to terrorize 'em like i was entitled to every last sugary swirl
on every last doily in each circle of holiday hottness on the table.
going to grandma's (which also happened to be my great aunt's as well)
meant allllll the treats all the time-
my grandmother would cook,
my ancient aunt would bake,
and i would steady stir the sauce or the batter,
like an attentive, if effeminate, nice and good little italian boy.
that's real talk.
you want an origin story, comic-book style, for your boy?
the food part of the story starts in that house in new haven...
and in between meals,
you'd best believe i was lacing into those cookies
like a savage stormswept raging gypsy shark-glutton.
i made some shorties, reminiscent of my long-lost youth.
....so, how'd it go?
take a little look for yourself, via teleport:
BATS ON BATS!!
i sort of smooshed myself into the middle of somewhere
between sugar and shortbread cookies,
and came up with something unintentionally not quite either.
they're delicious, and that's what's most important.
the bats have got chocolate ganache piped on top,
carefully applied to maintain the shape of the airborne mammals they mimic,
with holiday hallowe'en sprankle dots dropped on top,
...and the circles??
i went off-book and double drizzled some of that dark chocolate ganache,
AND a thick citrusy lemon-orange icing.
lemon juice, a drop of lemon extract, three drops of orange extract, vanilla extract,
magical orange dye, and kapowdered sugar, super thick.
it's simple, and i used a plastic baggie as a pastry bag,
with a pinhole punched in one corner.
to drool that sauce over the surface, and activate some pretty hallowe'en stripes.
you wanna know what's in the dough, bro?
1 1/3 cup vegan butts
4 T coconut oil (unrefined)
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 cup big crystal demerara sugar
1/2 tsp salt
1 1/2 tsp baking kapowder
2 tsp vanilla
2 cups of flour
1/2 cup coconut yogurt.
^^^i added everything together at once, except the yogurt,
and cut it in like piecrust,
so the fats were coated in flour and were still just a little chunky.
that makes the crumbliness all sorts of flaked out and nice-nice.
i hit it with that 'gurt, just to bind it all up;
after that tough touch, y'must let it chill in the fridge for a spell.
i let mine get exxxxtra-lazy in there for half a day.
here's the thing-
once it was rolled out, it just so happened to be a baby bit wet,
so i used a whole lotta flour,
and that fixed the stickiness right away.
also, i made sure to chill the shapes before baking, too-
which happened at 375F, on the convection setting,
with that hot air circulating around all the edges
of each and every cut-out crispy one, for 15 minutes.
the cookies have big sugary bits in amongst the flaky fattie-boombattie layers,
they're all cut pretty thick.
because thin cookies are all fine and good,
but MORE cookie in every bite seems so much better.
too much is the right amount.
that's no joke.
super-stupidly especially awfully sick.
i mean it.
i can't stop with this cough.
and as such, i can't sleep.
the minute i get in bed, the banging around in my bronchials begins in earnest,
and there's no rest as i hack and bark and wreck myself with every breath.
yeah, i know- it's pretty cool.
luckily, there's a brutal biting wind outside,
dropping these morning temperatures, and whipping the wet air directly at my face.
well, yeah, because i've still got hours of walking this terrible terrier ahead of me,
and i'd hate for that to be anything but a HORRIBLE experience.
crabtree isn't playing it cool.
not one bit.
these days, he's making sure that hallowe'en isn't gonna happen as hard as it used to.
nope. not one bit.
he's determined to destroy every happy moment in every day,
along with his own A*-hole,
and most of my house.
therefore, the time i'd take to create is now spent shepherding his maniacal energy
into places and spaces that DON'T require emergency medical attention.
it's essentially a whole other 'nother job as soon as i get home from work.
that's what happens, right?
harder and harder styles;
longer and longer nights;
and the only thing lessening besides my sleep schdedule
is the appointment book a work.
where's the good part, guys?
i'm wracking my brains,
and i'm squinting my eyes,
but all i can see is a blurry bludgeon pounding away,
with every breath, which in it's turn comes with a banging b!tch of a cough.
it's all really happening,
and getting sick is all part of the deal, i guess;
never quiet, never soft.....