T’was three nights before Christmas, and I had an urgent SOS for Santa. I was just placing the first two trays for the next day’s cookie exchange into the oven when I realized the oven, which had been preheating for 20 minutes (but, now that I had stopped to think about it, hadn’t beeped to announce the desired temperature had been reached) was cold inside.
Now, let me tell you. The oven stopped. At Christmas. And most of you don’t know this but I’ve been through a lot this month, and last month and the month before too, lots of scary health stuff and other trauma, but when my oven broke down so did I. I’m not ashamed to say so. Just think of it, will you? Initially Simon was not so sympathetic. “I had part of the Christmas tree stuck in my eye (it’s true) and you thought it was funny (that’s also true). And now,” he exclaimed, “you’re going to cry because the oven won’t light?!”
Luckily, he figured it out. Only because I was putting on my coat and making noises like I was heading off to Lowe’s to buy that convection oven I’ve been eyeing all year. And also because he thought of all those good boys and girls who wouldn’t have any biscotti with their Vin Santo this season if my oven didn’t work.
Truth is, I didn’t really want to buy an oven just yet. Though I’m also not ashamed to say that I think about ranges and stovetops the way some people think about sex, I haven’t researched the options and if I had to run out and buy one without properly understanding what I was getting into, well, that would have been more stressful than trying to make Christmas dinner in the backyard fire pit. Happily I didn’t have to do either.
It was just the igniter, a relatively inexpensive and do-it-yourself-able fix. But it made me realize that I don’t ever want to be in the position of buying a range/oven without first having had the time to figure out exactly what I want. Induction stove top with convection oven? Gas cooktop with electric baker? Stainless steel, most certainly (I like shiny things…) Though I cook and bake constantly, I don’t really have any idea where to start figuring it out, but it’s one of my tasks for 2009 (my current one should last another 365). So if any of you have been through this recently and have some tips for me, please share what you know.
The Recipe
This biscotti is an ode to my other grandmother, my mom’s mom. She was Italian, which also explains why she had no teeth. The biscotti habit, I mean. She loved these things – she loved any dried out, stale, petrified bread product, actually. She was always scouting for things to dip into her black coffee.
It wasn’t until I was older that I learned to love the biscotti she held so dear, but now that I have developed a taste for them, I make them each year. Over the years I’ve experimented quite a bit, and I’ve come to see that there is a compromise between crumbly and crunchy and tooth-destroying. The secret seems to be in the choice of fat. Butter yields a good flavor but they also tend to be soft and spreading. Whole eggs are a better choice, but these can be a bit on the impenetrable side. It’s the addition of extra egg yolks to the batter that gives it an authentically Italian texture — sturdy, serious, and unflinching but also a bit sandy, definitely bitable, and willing to concede to a mug of hot java (or a glass of Vin Santo).
These vanilla beans really are heirlooms. Not in the biological sense perhaps, but certainly in the historical sense: these beans have been marked by the farmer who harvested them in Madagascar. Sometimes, according to Margaret at my local Penzey’s store, they do that. Margaret wasn’t sure why the field workers sometimes carve their initials into vanilla pods – maybe to indicate that the crop was hand-collected by them, or maybe just their way of saying “I was here”, like writing your name in the sand just before the tide washes in. Whatever the intent, it’s always a bit magical to pull a vanilla pod from the jar and find another person’s presence etched into it, to almost be able to conjure a hand, holding the other end of the bean, and to picture a face belonging to that hand.
In this bean, it’s hard to read them – something round like a C or a G, and then something lean like an L or an I. It’s impossible to tell. But the indentation is clear, and the reddish brown tint of the etching, where the pod has begun to dry out a bit.
Cooking with vanilla beans instead of extract is a real treat. The fragrance and flavor is both more delicate and more insistent. After you’ve split your bean and scraped the “caviar” out of it, touch your tongue to the inside of the pod, just to see. It’s a very different taste than extract – potent, slightly bitter, and almost buttery.
The easiest way to extract the usable part is to slice the bean in half lengthwise and then, using a knife, scrape out the hundreds of tiny seeds that line both sides of the pod. Don’t waste the empty pod – place it in a cup of sugar or honey or in a pint of rum. After a couple of weeks you’ll have extract or scented, flavored sugar.
Vanilla Loves Chocolate Biscotti
2 1/4 cups unbleached flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/8 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground allspice
1 cup granulated sugar
2 large eggs
2 large egg yolks
Seeds from one vanilla bean
For ganache:
8 ounces dark chocolate, chopped into small pieces
¾ cup heavy cream
Sift flour, baking powder and salt together into a small bowl.
Whisk sugar and eggs in a large bowl, beating together until they become a pale yellow color and there are some air bubbles forming. Add the vanilla beans and mix well. Take in the scent – lovely!
Add the black pepper, cinnamon, cloves and allspice. Observe how gorgeous it looks, sprinkled atop the egg mixture. Stir it in, then add the dry ingredients. Mix carefully, just until the dough is beginning to form.
Divide the dough in half and roll each piece into 13 x 2 inch logs. Place them on a cookie sheet lined with parchment paper and place them in the refrigerator for about 40 minutes.
Preheat oven to 350. Bake the logs just until they are golden and starting to crack on top, 30-40 minutes.
Remove the logs from the oven and allow them to cool for about 15 minutes. Lower oven temperature to 325 derees, then slice each log diagonally into slices. Place the slices ½ inch apart on a cookies sheet, cut side up. Return them to the oven and let them bake for about 22 minutes, until they are crsip and golden brown. You will need to turn the biscotti once or twice during this second baking. When they are finished, remove from oven and allow them to cool completely. They will get harder as they cool, so if they don’t seem quite done when you pull them out, they will get sturdier as they sit.
To make ganache, chop the chocolate into fine pieces and place it in a large, sturdy bowl. Bring the cream to a boil in a small sauce pan, letting it rise up the sides of the pan. Remove from heat and pour over the chocolate. Stir slowly and constantly for about two minutes, until all the chocolate has melted and become smooth and thin. You’ll know it’s properly melted if it responds to gravity – that is, if it sticks to the spoon or spatula then you need to keep stirring.
Dip one end of each biscotti into the chocolate, spinning it to make sure the chocolate covers both sides. Allow to cool so that the chocolate forms a solid coating. Enjoy by dipping into your beverage of choice – coffee, tea, Vin Santo (hey, you should try it just once. The Italians know how to enjoy wine!).