A few years ago, I decided that sugar cookies could be as buttery and chewy as chocolate chip cookies. I developed a recipe based off of my favorite chocolate chip cookie formula, substituting classic white sugar for the molasses-y brown, skipping the chocolate, and grating in a lemon’s worth of fresh zest. Today, I’m turning those cookie jar favorites into a Valentine’s Day dessert recipe.
I hadn’t made the recipe in a while when my sister Kate reminded me of it a month or two ago. Her boyfriend brought a batch into his office, where colleagues raved about the very qualities I’d engineered the cookies to have: softness, chewiness, butteriness. Yes.
Of all the characteristics of these sweets, my favorite is their size. Dainty treats have their place elsewhere. These cookies are huge! You only get 20 out of the full batch, a fact that makes these quicker to make, since you’re not shaping spheres forever…
That means lots of crispy edges, lots of chewy center–and lots of surface area for a hot pink frosting made from a handful of cherries (all natural!) that transforms these from cookie jar types into bright, festive cookies perfect for your Valentine and all your sweet friends and family.
What’s funny about this no-roll baked tortilla skillet shebang is I didn’t mean for it to appear during what I think of as Tex-Mex, or football, season. I invented the recipe – a means of eating an enchilada-like meal without actually rolling up a dozen or more tubes of filled tortillas – to be one of those smart shortcuts you take when you want to eat a decent meal, one with some vegetables and without copious amounts of refined carbs or cheese, but you’re on a little bit of a time budget.
When you cook layered foods, each layer has to be just right: seasoned aggressively but not overwhelmingly. Here, I started with the sauce, making a tomato-based enchilada sauce flavored with both a fresh habanero and a dried chile de arbol.
Every so often, I return to my vegetarian ways of the past (I was a vegetarian when BGSK started, just in case you haven’t been reading forever). With the notable exceptions of pepperoni pizza and ShackBurgers, I’ve been choosing to cook veggies since 2016 started. This is all accidental, not as part of a big resolution or anything. In this small kitchen, it’s been all potatoes and peppers and beans and rice and pasta and sauce and cheese.
As an omnivore, I don’t worry too much about protein in my vegetarian food. But after a couple weeks of pasta with veggies, I had the feeling that I should maybe add a handful of chickpeas to my aloo gobi to make sure my muscles stayed strong enough for barre class.
And so, I turned a recipe for the beloved Indian potato and cauliflower curry into a spicy, warming, all-vegetarian formula for a potato and cauliflower stew with chickpeas, making for a complete–if carb-centric–vegetarian dinner whose leftovers make a lunch I couldn’t wait to eat.
You should know that this–and most of the recipes I used as starting points for my experimentations in spicy potatoes and cauliflower–are all shortcuts. The best aloo gobi, like the best ratatouille, requires individually frying the vegetables before you combine them with the sauce. You can do it if you want. I might, sometime. But on a busy weeknight, that sounded like a pain. The other bit of knowledge to have is that aloo gobi is most often a dry curry. There’s not a ton of sauce, though you could increase the amount of tomatoes if you wanted. For that reason, I serve it with paratha instead of rice. If I have a little extra time til dinner, I’ll mix up the carrot raita from this New York Times recipe, which is an ideal match.
It’s my [Natalie’s] birthday month, so I’m pretty into sprinkles right now. Sprinkles in and on everything. Every treat becomes a birthday treat in January. These birthday cake Rice Krispie treats are pretty spectacularly colorful and incredibly fun. I had visions of frosting the entire sheet like a cake, but I luckily realized that our teeth might fall out if we did that much sugar.
Don’t worry, marshamllow-y goodness enhanced by nearly an entire container of sprinkles is quite delicious on its own.
Even if it’s not your birthday in January, these will brighten the winter days. Of course these will be a hit with kids, no doubt. But they’re also utterly festive for a Tuesday at the office or tucked in a roommate’s lunchbox, too. I’ve never heard anyone turn down sprinkles. Rice Krispies treats are a go-to gluten-free treat. Be sure to try our Salted Caramel version, or try making your own marshmallows.
Natalie of Good Girl Style joins us each month to share incredible desserts with Big Girls, Small Kitchen readers–desserts that are entirely gluten-free, but not like obviously gluten-free. That means no specialty flours or hard-to-find ingredients, just marshmallows and butter–yum. Don’t miss her white chocolate & lime truffles.
The other day, my pizza dough just wouldn’t rise. I was set on homemade pizza for dinner, so I started a second batch seeded with a way bigger spoonful of yeast. Refusing to believe that my pizza dinner dream wouldn’t somehow bubble into reality, I put my two bowls of unrisen dough by the radiator and went for a walk. I was hoping that the watched-pot-never-boils truism would apply to bowls of flour with stunted yeast, too.
When I got back, the doughs–both of them–were bubbling. Pizza failure was averted. But now I had extra dough. I put bowl #2 in the fridge, and two days later, I decided I’d better do something with it.
In most grilled cheese sandwiches, the bread matters, of course. But the quality and freshness of the slices aren’t the most important factor in the quality of the finished sandwich. Leave that to medium-low heat and a generous pat of butter (here’s how to make a perfect grilled cheese).
But what if the bread were perfect too? What if it were chewy, fragrant, salty, and stretchy, like just-pulled-from-the-oven focaccia? And, while we’re at it, what if the cheese were cooked right inside?
You can guess what happened next: I took all the cheeses out from my cheese drawer, combined provolone with mozzarella and a little cheddar. I pulled my dough, now a wind fall, not a burden, out of the fridge and stretched pieces into small rectangles. I filled each with my three cheeses, and folded them over into pockets. Last, I brushed the outsides with butter, sprinkled them with coarse salt, and baked them in a hot oven until I had golden, oozing, fresh grilled cheese pockets. Though the whole activity happened by chance, the results were so good and so easy (once you have dough made) that I had to post about them here.
This dish has been lurking behind the scenes for months, maybe years. It’s the delicious, unglamorous, vegetarian, and speedy dinner that we eat once a week very happily. The Best Broccoli Linguine solves 82 percent of what-should-we-have-for-dinner dilemmas. The Best Broccoli Linguine is responsible for 100 percent of all the unmade calls for takeout–for the fact that I do not have a Seamless account.
One-quarter of the charm is the short ingredient list: broccoli, olive oil, garlic, pasta, and Parmesan. If you don’t have everything, the rundown is short enough to assure your supermarket stop is rapid. Another quarter is about ease and speed: you boil water, you break up the broc, you peel the garlic. By the time the pasta is cooked, the vegetable is ready to sauce it. The third piece has to do with health: while this isn’t a salad, it does deliver a whole lot of vegetable servings with your carbs, more than Pad Thai, more than dumplings. The final bit–and you have to trust me on this, because I know that florets cooked past emerald to that more muted, nameless shade green might not appear incredibly appealing–is that this is so, so tasty.
It’s tasty by design. Years of regretting overpriced, much too large take-out orders taught me that access to ingredients and the ability to boil water isn’t always enough to deter you from paying someone else to make you dinner. You have to want the thing you’re offering yourself.
To make the pedestrian offerings of broccoli and dry pasta truly crave-able, I cook the broccoli in a good bit of oil, for a while (the same amount of time that it takes water to boil and pasta to cook, incidentally). This helps bring out the flavors, and it makes a simple vegetable taste really satisfying. I try not to skimp on oil or time. The slowness of cooking also reduces quite a large amount of florets into an unintimidating portion. When I combine the pasta with the falling apart (don’t call it overcooked!) broccoli, I add some pasta cooking water, which transforms two parts into one whole. I sample a bite, adjusting the seasonings, thinking always to myself that this is the best weeknight dinner there is.
And then I unapologetically pile on the Parm.