Holiday Goodies

My husband has been begging me to make rugelach for years now.  They are the favorite cookie of his youth and he has always raved about his mother's rendition of them.  I've just never gotten around to making rugelach happen.

About five years ago, my husband attempted to make his own batch of rugelach.  Oh my goodness, they were these horrible little petrified pieces of doodoo.  They were so hard and burnt they exploded when you took a bite.  Of course I laughed and didn't think about making them for a long time. 

About a year ago, this recipe was published in my local paper and I held on to it until now.  It belongs to Margaret Hasson from Portland, Oregon whose rugelach is sought out by friends whenever she is baking.  I truly believe it, because these little bites are pretty much heaven on a plate. 

From the New York Times

“The Widow Clicquot,” Tilar J. Mazzeo’s sweeping oenobiography of Barbe-Nicole Clicquot Ponsardin, is the story of a woman who was a smashing success long before anyone conceptualized the glass ceiling. Her destiny was formed in the wake of the French Revolution when, Mazzeo suggests, “modern society — with its emphasis on commerce and the freedom of the individual — was invented.” Barbe-Nicole, daughter of a successful textile maker turned Jacobin, is portrayed as someone whose way of doing business helped define the next century.

Fate cursed or blessed her with the mantle of early widowhood. Her husband, a winemaker from whom she learned the craft, died when she was 27, leaving her a single mother — the veuve (widow) Clicquot. Officially, the cause of François Clicquot’s death was typhoid, which was then commonly treated by feeding the patient Champagne, believed to strengthen the body against what was known as malignant fever. “To think that a bottle of his own sparkling wine might have saved François!” Mazzeo writes, going on to speculate that it is also possible he killed himself because business wasn’t good.

Read article...

I have been making dream bars since 1990.  It is a recipe I discovered in my Rose Levy Beranbaum Rose's Christmas Cookies (still, one of my favorites).

Prior to making these I had made a bar similar to this one, called a “7 layer bar”.  It had butterscotch chips and white chocolate chips plus other things.  And they were good, but I am not a huge butterscotch fan.

When I came across this recipe I had to try them. They immediately were a hit. I make them all year round and 75% of the time you can find some hidden in the back of my freezer.  They were always and still are included in my holiday baking which I have done every year since 1990.

I used to have a fear of doing things on my own. This included going shopping, going to the movies, and going to sporting events. Now walking into a coffee shop in Rome, at age 22, I am completely void of that fear, and I am as thankful as ever for overcoming it.

I have just walked into Caffe Della Pace, placed behind one of the most beautiful piazzas in all of Rome—Piazza Navona. With the option of sitting outside or in, I choose in, as the air on this December morning is brisk. I am told that I not only have the choice to sit inside or outside, but that I can pick any table in the entire cafe—which is composed of two large rooms. The front room, which I have just walked into, is full, and so I venture into the back room. ‘This is perfect,’ I think to myself. ‘No one is back here.’ I spot a table on a lower level of the room next to a backdoor. The table has three seats, but I don’t mind because there is a statue placed to the side of the table that can keep me company.

The waitress follows me as I sit down and hands me a menu. Quickly, I say, “Pronto,” which means “I am ready,” in Italian “Un cappuccino e cornetta con cioccolato per favore,” I say, which translates to “A cappuccino and a chocolate croissant, please.” She smiles at me and says, “Si,” before walking away with my menu.