cookies | The Rowdy Chowgirl

I don’t have a recipe for you today. I meant to update you on the sauerkraut project, but that will have to wait a few days.

I went to a funeral this morning. I actually go to a fair number of funerals, as a member of Saint Vincent de Paul. It’s an elderly bunch. And I’ve learned a lot from watching my older friends navigate these funerals with an enviable circumspection about the realities of life. They mourn their dead and enjoy seeing all their old friends on the same occasion. They dab away heartfelt tears, then laugh and tell stories through the funeral lunch.

The last time I saw Virginia was at another funeral, and she gave me a hug and a kiss, then held my hand in hers for a few minutes while asking me about my life.

Today I watched Harold, Virginia’s husband of 64 years, and their many children and grandchildren follow her casket up the aisle. The church was filled with family and friends, music and incense. A Catholic funeral is at once grand and simple, solemn and familiar. The well-known rhythm of the mass reminds me of the unceasing river of life itself with its seasons of birth, growth, and death.

As a member of Saint Vincent de Paul, Virginia worked tirelessly to feed the poor for decades. I took over coordinating the SVDP Thanksgiving and Christmas baskets from her six years ago, after she had done it forever. She mentored me through my first few years, answering questions, offering support and encouragement, and smoothing my way.

During the homily, the priest reminisced about Virginia bringing Irish Soda Bread to the rectory for all the priests every St. Patrick’s Day.

In his eulogy, her son-in-law talked about the importance of faith, family, and friends in Virginia’s life. He also shared memories of favorite recipes, birthday cakes, desserts, special dinners, her spaghetti, and especially her cookies. He spoke of the racks of cookies always cooling on her counters, and I remembered the times I when would visit Harold and Virginia, and she would smile and say, “Would you like a cookie?” If I hesitated at all, she would say, “Of course you do, dear!” and hold one out on her spatula with a smile. I felt about eight years old. But in a good way–cherished and fed.

The eulogy concluded with the observation that food was Virginia’s way of bringing together her faith, friends, and family.

And that, of course, is the secret wisdom of the very best cooks, who delight in feeding others, and whose generosity of spirit is made manifest in every dish their hands produce.

Such richness!

Sunday afternoon, after sleeping in and lingering over pancakes and bacon and lolling around on the couch enjoying a good long cuddle with bare feet propped in a shaft of sunlight, then going for a run around the sunny/breezy/cloudy/ warm/bright lake, and relishing the fact that there was nothing much on the agenda for the rest of the day, it was high time for a little experimentation in the kitchen.

I am not, generally speaking, a person who needs cookies. I don’t require baked goods to complete a perfect lazy Sunday afternoon. And yet, one of my goals for 2010 has been to find desserts that I like. So there I was, measuring and stirring happily away.

This thing started a few days before, with Stella’s recipe for Semolina & Rosewater Biscotti over at The Witchy Kitchen. Her recipe was adapted from Chef Dennis’s Cranberry Pistachio Biscotti, and they both looked scrumptious. I can probably count on one finger the number times I’ve actually eaten a biscotti, but the rose water caught me and I was hooked, good and proper.

I stopped at the little Indian grocery store in my neighborhood for the rose water. On opening the door I was greeted by the familiar gust of spices—curry, cardamom, hints of garam masala. The usual elderly gentlemen sat by the door, watching soccer on the wall-mounted TV. A tray of samosas cooled on the counter, under a display of bangles and bracelets. The clerk led me around piled up bags of basmati rice, found the bottle of rose water, and in a trice it was mine.

On Saturday night, had you been a fly on the wall, you would have seen me shelling pistachios into a measuring cup while watching House Hunters International with Michael. Mental note: just buy the bag of already-shelled nuts next time!

Which brings us to Sunday, and my reckless combining of two Biscotti recipes, and adding whiskey on the fly, even though I’d never tried either of the recipes as written. This, I understand from my friends who bake, is considered a cardinal sin. And I must confess it’s a sin that I committed with eyes wide open, and full consent of the will. The irresistible impulse to tinker is why I’m not a baker at heart. I’ve yet to see a recipe that I didn’t want to adjust immediately and capriciously to my own tastes.

Fortunately, in this case, it all worked out just fine. The kitchen filled with the wonderful scent of baking, and the biscotti came out perfectly, to rest in orderly rows on the cooling rack. Densely textured, they were firm but still bitable without dunking. Not too sweet, rich like shortbread, and heady with the scents of the pistachios and rose water. If a cookie can have an umami taste, these did.

And here’s the thing I figured out about baking cookies. They aren’t just cookies–not really. They are a little more tangible warmth and sweetness in the world, a little something that can easily be shared with coworkers or friends or lovers. They are a modest addition to the sum total of all that is good, right there on the list with volunteer fire departments and daffodils and science fiction and high tech running shoes.

Suddenly, cookies seemed like the perfect way to complete a Sunday afternoon.

Rosewater Pistachio Biscotti

(adapted from More Than a Mount Full and The Witchy Kitchen)

1-2/3 cups flour
1 tsp baking powder
¼ tsp salt
2 large eggs
2/3 cup sugar
2 tbsp oil
¾ tsp rose water
½ tsp whiskey
1/3 cup coarsely chopped pistachios

Preheat oven to 350.

In a small bowl mix flour, baking powder and salt. In a larger bowl, beat together the eggs, sugar and oil until mixture is a light yellow in color. Stir in rosewater and whiskey. Add the flour mixture and nuts. With moistened hands form dough into flattened log on greased cookie sheet, about one inch thick by 3 inches wide. Bake for 25 minutes or until golden brown. Allow to cool for about 10 minutes then slice into ½ inch slices and place on sides and return to oven. Bake for 10-12 more minutes. Let cool.