Some people use air fresheners, but I prefer spicy cakes.

Sometimes I clean around here, and though that doesn’t happen as often as it should, when it does, I’m always a little OCD about the place smelling like it was cleaned. If I can smell it, it’s right, and so from time to time, the bleachy, VIMy, ammonia smells are a little more prominent than they need to be. It’s momentarily satisfying – it’s the way I let Nick know that I don’t always do almost nothing around here. And then I hate it, so baking happens, because spices and vanilla and sugar cover up the smell of cleaning stink and make an apartment feel like home.

Tonight the evening light was golden, and though we’re well into spring, it doesn’t feel too late for cake. The warm glow through the trees seemed to call for something yellow and spicy, and this cake is it. Well, maybe not yellow. Golden, I guess, but definitely spicy. Perfect for brunch or tea.

Ginger spice cake

  • 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 2 cups brown sugar
  • 2 tsp. baking powder
  • 1/2 tsp. baking soda
  • 1/2 tsp. salt
  • 2 tbsp. ground ginger
  • 1 tsp. cinnamon
  • 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
  • 1/2 tsp. finely ground white pepper
  • 1 1/4 cups plain yogurt
  • 2/3 cup vegetable or canola oil
  • 2 eggs, beaten
  • 1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat oven to 375°F.

In a large bowl, combine flour, brown sugar, baking powder, baking soda, salt, ginger, cinnamon, nutmeg, and pepper. Mix well.

In a separate bowl, combine yogurt, oil, eggs, and vanilla.

Pour wet ingredients into dry ingredients, and combine until wet ingredients are just moistened.

Pour mixture into a greased 9″x13″ pan. Bake for 25 to 30 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the centre comes out clean.

Serve warm, with whipped cream or ice cream.

Can I write about meatloaf in May?

I think yes, I can, because it’s my name on this thing and I felt like something meaty. The whole last hour of my day and the entirety of my bus-ride home was spent fighting the urge to chat MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! MEAT! for all the world to hear, and when I finally got here, I dove right into things, mincing shallots and sautéeing finely chopped mushrooms and garlic in butter and olive oil. Can I write about mushroomy meatloaf in May?

Again, I say yes. At the little farmer’s market I go to when I go back to the ‘burbs, there were beautiful little white mushrooms that a sign claimed came from very nearby. And I wanted them, so we’re throwing back to November here, even though it’s warmish out now and the sun periodically mentions itself from behind the clouds. Around here meatloaf is a three-day affair – one day dinner, two days lunches, and I like the long-lastingness of it. Why am I defending this? You know you want meatloaf. There are places where it’s not even really spring yet, and maybe you’re from there. Maybe you want this so bad right now.

Well, here. This one’s a little different – it’s French. Or, rather, French-ish. It starts with shallots, then mushrooms, and then garlic, some dry white wine, fresh bread crumbs, a generous dollop of dijon, enough black pepper, and fresh parsley. There’s meat in there too – I used buffalo tempered with pork, but you can use beef, and venison would be lovely. I’ll bet a bit of lamb would be exquisite.

Anyhow, I made the meatloaf, and it was very good. You can hold off until October, if you want, but I’d make this now. Let it get cold, and slice it into sandwiches, and serve them at picnics.

Mushroom meatloaf

  • 2 tbsp. butter
  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1/2 minced shallot
  • 3/4 lb. mushrooms, finely chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic
  • 1/2 tsp. salt
  • 1/4 cup dry white wine
  • 1/2 lb. extra-lean ground beef (or other extra-lean red meat, such as buffalo or venison)
  • 1/2 lb. ground pork
  • 1 tbsp. grainy dijon mustard
  • 1 cup fresh bread crumbs
  • 1/2 cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 2 eggs
  • 1 tsp. black pepper
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

In a large pan over medium heat, sauté shallot in olive oil and butter until translucent. Add mushrooms, stir to coat, and allow to cook for five minutes, until liquid begins to drain from mushrooms. Salt, add garlic, and stir. Sauté for another five to ten minutes, until pan is dry and mushrooms have begun to caramelize, achieving a golden hue.

Deglaze pan with wine, and simmer for another three to five minutes until all of the liquid is absorbed. Remove from heat, and allow to cool until you are able to handle the mushrooms comfortably.

Preheat your oven to 350°F.

In a large bowl, combine meats, mushroom mixture, bread crumbs, eggs, mustard, parsley, pepper, and nutmeg. Squish everything together with your hands until pretty well combined. It’s okay if the meats are not thoroughly blended – it’s more interesting if they’re not, actually.

Press mixture into a greased 9″x5″ loaf pan. Bake for 45 minutes.

Remove from oven and let stand for ten minutes before serving. And remember, it’s always even better the next day.

As you may have noticed, meatloaf is one of the ugliest foods, which is one more reason why these photos suck. But don’t let that stop you from making this.

To make up for the photos, and because I’ve been good lately, here’s a sleepy photo of the cat.

I am pretty sure that every recipe for pistachio pudding that exists anywhere on the Internet or elsewhere is the direct result of the Kraft marketing department. This recipe is no such thing.

So, as has been well-established around here, I am all about comfort. And lately, I’ve been sick so I sent Nick to the store for something creamy with pistachios and he came back with Reese’s Peanut Butter Cup ice cream – nothing like what I wanted exists. So when I was feeling mobile, I went to the Internet to find out how to make pistachio pudding, because I was too lazy to think about it on my own, and would you believe that every single recipe for pistachio pudding that I was able to find is based on three ingredients, namely Jell-O pistachio pudding, canned pineapple chunks, and baby marshmallows? I had never even heard of such a combination, but there it was, all up in my sick-face grill.

And then I was angry. Because the comfort food of my imagining was, in reality, mint-green, chunky, and gross – there was nothing unctuous and soothing about it. And as someone who had been vomiting a lot, there was no going there – I knew ahead of time how that was going to look.

Fortunately for everyone and the Internet, I am feeling much, much better. And, Angry Emily is Motivated Emily and she gets shit done. The result is that I’ve come up with something I think you’ll really, really like. It’s smooth, creamy, nutty, the right amount sweet, and every bit as unctuous as it needs to be. If I was going to serve this to fancy company, I’d divide it cleanly between six ramekins and serve each with a discerning dollop of whipped cream. Otherwise, pour it into a bowl and serve it with a less discerning, more gluttonous fwop! of whipped cream. Do what you need to do.

Pistachio pudding

  • 1/2 cup unsalted whole pistachio nuts
  • 1 tbsp. butter
  • 1 tbsp. honey
  • 2 tbsp. cornstarch
  • 1/2 cup sugar
  • 1 cup milk
  • 1 cup cream
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • Pinch salt

In a pan over medium-high heat, toast pistachio nuts for one to two minutes, until you can smell them. Pour them into a blender or the bowl of a food processor.

Purée with butter and honey. It’s not essential that this form a paste, but get it as close as you can.

In a medium saucepan over medium-high heat, whisk together cornstarch and sugar. Pour pistachio mixture into the pan, whisk to combine. Pour in milk and cream, and bring to a boil.

Boil for one minute, and remove from heat. Whisk in vanilla and salt.

Pour mixture into a bowl through a mesh sieve. Taste as you go. As if you’ll be able to resist.

Cover the top of the pudding with plastic, and place in the fridge to set, two to three hours. Serve with too much whipped cream.

In other creamy food news, I made this “super easy homemade yogurt” and it was every bit as super easy as it promised it would be. It is amazing. The recipe produces a litre of yogurt (about four cups), and costs a fraction of what you’d pay for the same amount of yogurt in-store. I sweetened mine with honey and flavoured it with vanilla bean, but even plain it would be fantastic. So, go. Get the best dairy products you can, and make your own. It feels amazing to know that what you can make at home is a bijillion times better that what you can buy, and that making your own is cheaper. And the effort is minimal. There’s no reason not to get started right now for your Monday breakfast.

Chicken and spinach calzones.

We make and eat a lot of pizza around here – it’s my go-to meal when a bunch of people show up and are hungry. Last summer I discovered my new favourite easy crust, and there’s been no going back – I make it all the time. I change it from time to time – whole wheat flour, a little bit of buckwheat flour every so often, or spelt even. I let it rise a little for a thicker pizza, which is how I like it, or roll it out flat for a thinner crust. Or, sometimes, I add a little bit of semolina flour, give it 30 minutes in a warm kitchen, cut it into eight pieces, roll each piece out until it’s barely as thin as a pie crust, and stuff it with sauce and cheese.

Calzones are a treat, and they’re awesome for lunches at work or school – they’re pizza pops, but with none of that chemical stuff that’ll probably kill you. Cheese, a little sauce, some veggies and meat if you want – and you can stick them in the freezer and reheat them as you need them, in the microwave or toaster oven, whatever you’ve got. And if you’re using an easy crust, they’re the kind of thing you can serve on a weeknight, or even to company, with a little bit of salad and not much else.

If you use leftover chicken, even better! Less effort, so you have more time for drinking beer and inhaling the smell of baking pizza. Which is infinitely better than ordering delivery, even though delivery is easier. Some things are just worth a little bit more time, and people will like you more if you serve them calzones over take out schlock. Some of us need all the help we can get in that regard.

Chicken and spinach calzones

(Makes 8.)

Dough (inspired by a recipe from everybody likes sandwiches):

  • 1 package yeast (or 2 1/4 tsp.)
  • 1 tsp. honey
  • 1 cup warm water
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/2 cup semolina flour (if you don’t have this, it’s not crucial; just use regular flour, or sub whole-wheat, if you want)
  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 tsp. salt

Filling

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, chopped
  • 3 cloves garlic, chopped
  • 1 28 oz. can crushed tomatoes
  • 2 cups shredded cooked chicken
  • 2 cups packed fresh spinach, roughly chopped
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh basil
  • 2 tsp. ground black pepper
  • 1 tsp. lemon zest
  • Salt, to taste
  • 2 cups grated mozzarella cheese

In a large bowl, combine yeast, honey, and water, and let stand until foamy, about five minutes. Add flour, semolina flour, oil, and salt and stir to combine. Turn out onto a floured surface, knead ten times, and then place in a greased bowl and cover with greased plastic wrap and allow to rise in a warm place for 30 to 40 minutes.

Use semolina if you can, because it’s extra nice in this kind of crust. It’s a coarser flour, and it produces an excellent crispiness that you’ll want in your calzones. Regular old all-purpose will work fine if that’s what you’ve got, but semolina is a nice touch. A little goes a long way too – spend the two dollars, and you’ll have a bag that will last you a long time, and you can add it to homemade pastas and breads and all kinds of things.

In a large skillet over medium-high heat, heat onions in olive oil until shimmering. Add garlic, stir and saute for another minute, and then add crushed tomatoes. Reduce heat to medium, then add chicken, spinach, lemon zest, garlic, and basil. Taste, adjust salt as needed, and set aside.

Cut dough into four equal pieces, and then cut each piece in half. Roll each piece out until it is no more than 1/8-inch thick – it should be as round as possible, about the size of a small plate.

Preheat oven to 375°F.

Spoon filling onto dough, dividing the amount as equally as possible between all eight rounds. Place the filling slightly above the centre of the dough, so that when you fold the short side of the dough over top of the filling, you still have an inch or so of dough on the other side. Place 1/4-cup of cheese on top of each scoop of filling, and fold dough over.

Press dough down gently to seal, and then fold the remaining dough over the crease to seal. You’ll end up with a sort of scalloped pattern, as you fold each bit of dough over the last. (See below.)

Place gently on a baking sheet lined with parchment or sprinkled with cornmeal. I bake these four to a sheet, with at least an inch between them, as they’ll puff up a bit and get bigger.

Bake for 20 minutes, or until golden brown. Serve hot.

If you’re not going to serve them all right away, you can cool the rest on a wire rack, and then wrap up and freeze. Reheat as needed.

Green soup.

I haven’t been around very much, and I haven’t been cooking. I’ve been busy, which after having been very not busy for over a month has proven exhausting, and even my weekends have been full of things. The past week has blown by and in its aftermath the weather? I am being pulled under it. By tonight I was an antisocial, horizontal mess and my main objective was to eat something restorative, something soothing that would put me back in my right place.

Soup.

Vegetables are greener and brighter these days, and green things are all kinds of restorative. For soothing, an avocado. And if you’re feeling flat and beige, like I am, this is the kind of thing you can make with whatever you’ve got in your fridge – if your green things are chard or kale or even lettuce, it will be more than okay. My favourite leaf is spinach, but you can use what you like. Watercress, arugula, and dandelion greens are in season at the moment. It’s vegan and easily adapted to include other ingredients – the components are only part of the experience and are easily modified, subbed out, or dropped all together.

And it’s smooth, so there’s none of that complicated chewing to be worked out. You can eat it as close to horizontal as is comfortable.

Green soup

(Serves four to six.)

  • 2 tbsp. olive oil
  • 1 medium onion, diced
  • 3 cloves garlic, minced
  • 4 cups vegetable stock or water (plus one or two cups additional water, as needed)
  • Juice of one large lemon, about 2 tbsp.
  • 2 to 3 cups leafy greens, packed
  • 1 bunch scallions, chopped
  • 1/3 cup chopped fresh parsley
  • 1/3 cup chopped basil or cilantro
  • 1 avocado, diced
  • 1 or 2 large jalapeño peppers, diced (if you prefer less heat, remove seeds and membrane before dicing)
  • 1 tsp. dried oregano
  • 1/2 tsp. nutmeg
  • Salt and pepper, to taste

Sweat onions and the white and light green parts of the scallions in olive oil, then add garlic. Sauté for a minute or two, until you can smell the garlic, then add four cups of stock, water, or a combination. Bring to a boil.

Stir in green things, allowing them a minute or two to wilt. Add lemon juice, and blend until smooth with a blender (in batches) or a hand blender. At this point, add liquid to reach desired consistency.

Stir in oregano, nutmeg, and salt and pepper. Taste, adjusting seasonings as needed – I used more water than stock, and found I needed about 1 1/2 teaspoons of salt.

Garnish with yogurt, if desired, and serve hot or chilled.

Peanut butter and white chocolate shortbread cookies.

It’s my birthday (tomorrow)! Exciting news, I know. I’m now 27, which is three years older than my mom is in that picture, which makes me feel fairly unproductive and much less like an adult.

Fortunately, those feelings are easily forgotten by eating cookies, so I made myself some special birthday cookies and then stuffed my face with them. Being a grown-up means that I can have all the cookies I want, which is the best but most often overlooked part of adulthood. And tomorrow we are celebrating my birthday by driving two hours to Hope for pie, and then to a dodgy casino across the border for $1.75 pints and $3.00 blackjack. Adulthood can be kind of awesome if you don’t take it very seriously.

Peanut butter and white chocolate shortbread cookies

  • 1 cup butter
  • 1/2 cup peanut butter (smooth or crunchy, whatever you prefer)
  • 1/2 cup brown sugar
  • 1/2 cup white chocolate chips, melted (if you don’t like white chocolate or simply prefer dark, use the same amount of semi-sweet chocolate chips)
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour

This is the kind of recipe for which you need to have some sort of electric mixer or food processor. You can do without, I suppose, but that would be an incredible pain in the ass. The thing about shortbread, especially shortbread made with granulated sugars (including brown sugar) is that you literally have to beat the hell out of it. And not for a minute or two either – I’m talking 25 to 30 minutes, so that the sugar rips tiny little tears into the butter before dissolving back into it.

Yes. Now. Cream together the butter, the peanut butter, and the brown sugar. Meanwhile, melt white chocolate in the microwave or in a bowl over a pot of simmering water on the stove. Once melted, pour into the butter-sugar mixture, and continue beating. Beat for 25 to 30 minutes, total.

After what will seem like forever, especially if your mixer needs to have its engine WD40d or something because it howls like it’s been stabbed, add the flour, a bit at a time, until a dough forms. Mix for another three to five minutes, until the dough forms a ball and pulls away from the sides of the mixing bowl.

Divide into two balls. Roll out into two logs, about a foot long each, and an inch and a half in diameter. Cover tightly in plastic wrap, and place in the freezer to firm up, 30 to 40 minutes.

Preheat oven to 325°F.

Slice each log into about 24 equal pieces, place on a baking sheet about an inch apart, and poke each piece with the prongs of a fork. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, but check occasionally during the last few minutes to ensure the cookies have only just begun to brown. You want them firm and crumbly, but pale.

Allow to cool completely on a wire rack before eating, and then enjoy with chocolate milk (as much as you want).

Ten-minute sweet yellow curry.

It was supposed to be Rib Week, and indeed that’s how the week started off, but then I felt an obligation to perform and then some other stuff happened and I decided to hell with it, and stuck the rest of the ribs Nick bought into the freezer for another week. Today we had chicken in an easy ten-minute curry, because I am working on a few freelance writing projects before going back to work and have less time this week than I thought I would.

Don’t let the long list of ingredients put you off. It’s not that much, really, and it really does all come together by the time the rice is cooked. Which leaves you time for other important things, like drinking wine and watching What Would Brian Boitano Make?

Sweet yellow curry

  • 1 cup diced mango (about one mango)
  • 1 banana, sliced into rounds
  • 1 large shallot (or small onion), chopped
  • 1 tbsp. chopped fresh ginger
  • 3 cloves garlic, smashed
  • Zest and juice of one lime
  • 2 tsp. sriracha (or the hot sauce of your choice)
  • 1 tsp. fish sauce
  • 1 bunch green onions, light green and white part separated from darker greens
  • 1 398mL (14 oz.) can coconut milk
  • 1 tbsp. canola or vegetable oil
  • 2 tsp. sesame oil
  • 1 lb. boneless, skinless chicken thighs
  • 1 tsp. ground cumin
  • 1 tsp. turmeric
  • 1 tsp. freshly ground black pepper
  • 1/2 tsp. ground coriander
  • 1/4 tsp. nutmeg
  • 2 red bell peppers, chopped
  • 1 cup frozen peas
  • 1/2 cup chopped cilantro

In a food processor or blender, combine the mango, banana, shallot, ginger, garlic, lime juice and zest, fish sauce, sriracha, white & light green part of green onions, and coconut milk. Pulse or blend until smooth. Set aside.

Chop chicken thighs, and smash each piece with a meat mallet or rolling pin until flattened. Flattening the meat tenderizes it, and it cooks much faster because it’s not so thick.

In a large pan over medium-high heat, sauté chicken in canola and sesame oil. Add bell peppers. Let cook for a minute or two until the chicken browns, stirring frequently. Once chicken has browned, add cumin, turmeric, pepper, coriander, and nutmeg, stirring chicken and bell peppers to coat in spices.

Pour mango-coconut milk mixture into the pan, scraping the bottom of the pan with a wooden spoon to remove any browned bits, and stirring to incorporate all of the spices. The colour will be fantastic, possibly alarmingly bright. Reduce to medium heat, and bring to a gentle simmer to warm the sauce through.

Stir in the green part of the green onions (chopped) and the frozen peas. Simmer for five minutes, stirring occasionally. Before serving taste to check your seasoning, adjust as needed, then add cilantro. Serve over jasmine rice.

Seriously – this whole thing takes, like, ten minutes. It’s got a delicate sweetness, but not cloyingly or oppressively so, and gently spicy. It’s fragrant, and all kinds of good for you. Anything that colour has to be good for you.

If, like me, you ate a kilo of Mini Eggs this weekend, a little bit of stewed rhubarb is probably exactly what you need.

You see that terrible disaster? It’s the first thing on my to-do list this week, and I’m a little overwhelmed. We’ve just had a three-day weekend of constant going and doing, and I don’t even recall cooking anything, and somehow, this is the aftermath. Even the cat is tired and doesn’t want to do anything.

This week and the early part of next week will be very busy, as I’ll be back to work next Thursday. Hooray! I have enjoyed unemployment (my four-week paid vacation), but it’s going to be great to be back. And back better than ever, as I’m moving on up to something a little different, a little more challenging, and likely with my own office to fill up with pictures of my cat. It’s very exciting. Nick is glad I will continue to earn an income, and I am glad that obligation will force me to brush my hair and shower, and to get out of bed before 10:00.

Best to ease into the day (and the week) slowly, I think. Stewed rhubarb with a little bit of local honey should do the trick – warm, tart, and like sweet porridge, it’s comfort in a bowl. This recipe makes about two cups’ worth, and is very good poured over oatmeal, if you prefer actual porridge, or over ice cream, which I don’t mind if you have for breakfast.

I prefer to stew greener rhubarb, as often it’s almost too sour to do anything else with. Red rhubarb has greater possibilities, which I am sure we’ll get into later. Stewed rhubarb is a very good start though, and you can make it all through rhubarb season using apples as I’ve done here for the early part of the season, or summer berries as the season continues. Strawberries are the obvious choice later in the season, but blueberries can be used as well, to great effect. This is also a recipe that Miss Rosa can adapt to the GI Diet, and the restrictions therein.

Stewed rhubarb

(Makes one to two servings, however the recipe is easily multiplied.)

  • 1 lb. rhubarb, cut into 1/4 inch slices
  • 1/2 lb. apples, finely chopped
  • Honey, to taste

In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine rhubarb and apples with 1/4 cup of water. Stir occasionally to ensure fruit doesn’t stick to the bottom of the pan, until rhubarb and apple have disintegrated and the mixture resembles pink applesauce, 15 to 20 minutes. Sweeten with honey to taste, and serve warm.

Chai tea: Perfect for thunderstorms.

When I was young, my parents had some very good luck with daycare providers. There weren’t after school programs or “amenities,” but there were very interesting people like Mrs. Gill and Mrs. DiAntonio, immigrant women with fantastic recipes who were at home all the time, cooking. And looking after me, I guess, but mostly cooking. And more often than not, they shared. From Mrs. DiAntonio, I learned about the other kind of amaretti cookies – the soft ones with the almond thumbprint in the centre, about how magnificent just tomato sauce could be on pasta, that mozzarella doesn’t come in bricks, and that wine is something that happens after you squish grapes with your feet. I never got to taste the wine, but Mr. DiAntonio would make it that way, and grew his own grapes to boot.

From Mrs. Gill, I learned about bright red tandoori chicken, still one of my favourite things, about samosas (and, incidentally, ketchup on samosas which is still the only way to have them) and potato pakoras and twisty orange jalebis and chai tea. At one point, Mrs. Gill and my mother traded skills – my mom taught Mrs. Gill to sew, and Mrs. Gill taught my mom about Indian cooking. Armed with spices Mrs. Gill had given her, my mom was able to make that chai tea at home. I still remember the taste of Mrs. Gill’s chai – it’s nothing like the Starbucks iteration, and nothing at all like what you buy in teabags labelled “chai tea.”

Today it rained a lot, and there was thunder (and I discovered that Molly is a scaredy cat), and I had a lot of housecleaning to do. A regular cup of tea would not quite have done. I don’t have Mrs. Gill’s recipe, but I remember the taste. If you don’t keep them in your kitchen, go buy the spices – you can buy them at Indian grocery stores, and you get a lot of them for not very much money. I buy most of my spices from Indian grocers (or from the Indian section of Superstore), because they are so plentiful and inexpensive.

So, here. A recipe for chai tea, which I’ll hope you enjoy anytime there’s thunder and downpour, even if you end up drinking it while cradling (and reassuring) a bawling kitten.

Chai tea

(Makes two cups)

  • 2 cups cold milk
  • 2 tbsp. honey
  • 2 cinnamon sticks
  • 1 tbsp. whole green cardamom
  • 2 tsp. whole cloves
  • 2 tsp. black peppercorns
  • 1 tsp. fennel seed
  • 3 allspice berries
  • 1 slice of ginger (sliced horizontally from ginger root, about the thickness of a quarter)
  • 1 piece dried orange peel (optional, but if you have it, all the better!)
  • 2 teabags of black tea

In a saucepan over medium-high heat, toast whole spices until just fragrant, about two minutes, moving them about the pan frequently. Reduce heat to medium, and add milk and honey, stirring to dissolve the honey. Add teabags once honey is dissolved, and allow to come very slowly to a gentle boil, about 40 minutes.

Once it begins to boil, remove the mixture from the stovetop and strain into mugs. Serve immediately.

Meyer lemon shortbread.

I’ve been thinking about shortbread lately, and I wasn’t going to give in to temptation (especially after I consumed 80% of the butter/cream/cheese buns the other day), but then I needed comfort food and my stew failed last night and cookies always make everything better when we’re out of the stuff to make pudding (pudding is the most soothing of comfort foods). My grandpa died yesterday, and though we all knew it was coming, that kind of advance warning doesn’t make the news any less surprising or unpleasant. And while I certainly have thoughts on the matter, I think I’d best save them for now – I’m well past the age of emo, and besides, it’s impossible to think clearly about anything until you feel able to focus.

So this morning, I am busying myself with shortbread cookies, the kind that sparkle with Meyer lemon and whisper vanilla. Regular lemon – or any citrus you like – will do if your local market didn’t surprise you with Meyer lemons this week. To replicate the taste of Meyer lemons, use two tablespoons lemon juice and one tablespoon orange juice (preferably mandarin orange juice), and that should give a suitable impression.

Meyer lemon shortbread cookies

(Makes about 24.)

  • 1 cup butter, softened (room temperature)
  • 1 cup confectioner’s sugar
  • 2 Meyer lemons, zest and juice (zest = about 2 tbsp., juice = 2 to 3 tbsp.)
  • 1 tsp. vanilla
  • 1/4 tsp. salt
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour

Cream together butter, sugar, lemon zest and juice, vanilla, and salt until liquid is absorbed into the mix. Mixture should be shiny and light.

Add flour, stirring until a soft dough forms. Form dough into a log (make sure the ends are equal to the middle in girth), and wrap tightly in plastic. Place in the freezer for up to one hour.

Preheat your oven to 350°F.

Slice cookie roll into approximately 24 equal pieces. Place cookie slices on a baking sheet, and bake for 20 to 25 minutes, checking after 15 minutes for doneness.

Shortbread is different from regular cookies, in that it’s best if it isn’t allowed to bake until golden. The other thing that’s different is that you don’t want to eat it warm. Like bread, there are changes that occur when the shortbread cools, and you want the texture to have a sandy fall-apartness that you have to wait for. Troublesome, isn’t it? Not really, but they smell so good when they bake you’ll want to dive in right away.

Allow to cool on the baking sheet for five minutes before removing to a cooling rack. Serve with tea.