Mom's oatmeal cookies

When I was young, my mom did things differently from the other mothers. When the other kids were eating sugary cereals, I had to eat Uncle Sam. When the other kids were drinking milk shakes, I had to drink raspberry kefir. And when the other kids had smooth, flat store-bought cookies in their lunch boxes, I had chunky, lumpy homemade oatmeal cookies that looked like golf balls.

Appearances aside, I loved these oatmeal cookies as they were spiced with brown sugar and dotted with chocolate chips. But they looked strange, definitely not like the other kid’s cookies or something you’d find at a bakery. And when you’re in elementary school, appearances mean everything.

In the fifth grade, we had assigned seats at our lunchroom table. I was seated next to a boy named Vance. I knew him from our country club as we had taken tennis lessons together that past summer, but over the course of the school year we became better friends and he asked me to “go with him.” I thought he liked me because I was cute and lively (my nickname was Spaghetti Legs) but in time, I realized the truth.

Once I became Vance’s girlfriend, he told me that what was his was mine and vice versa. So I got to eat his Oreos and he got to eat my mom’s cookies. I thought that I was getting the better end of the deal and he was just being kind.

But one day I didn’t want to eat Oreos—I wanted my mom’s oatmeal cookies. Vance threw a fit. “You don’t want to trade? Your mom’s cookies are the best cookies I’ve ever had. I wish I had a mom who made cookies as good as these! And you don’t even appreciate them!” he said.

I was shocked at his outburst. Someone would choose lumpy, chunky cookies over perfect store-bought cookies? And that’s when I knew—my mom’s cookies were indeed superior.

I held my ground and told him I’d be happy to trade my peanut butter and banana sandwich on homemade bread for his baloney sandwich on Mrs. Baird’s, but it was no deal. He wanted those oatmeal cookies.



We broke up soon after—it was fifth grade after all—but remained good friends throughout our grade-school years. And sometimes, when I was feeling generous, I’d share with him my mom’s oatmeal cookies—no reciprocation necessary.

Mom’s oatmeal cookies
Ingredients:
3/4 cup of butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup of brown sugar
1 egg, at room temperature
1 tsp. vanilla
3 cup of oats
1 cup of whole-wheat flour
1 tsp. salt
1/2 tsp. baking soda
2 cups of chocolate chips

Method:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees
Cream together the butter, sugar and egg. Add the rest of the ingredients and mix well.
Place 1 teaspoon-sized balls of dough on a greased or parchment-paper lined cookie sheet and bake at 350 for 12-15 minutes.
Makes four dozen.

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Bacon jam recipe: make it at home

“Bacon jam tastes like the love child of pulled pork and pate!” said one friend. “I am now officially in pig heaven,” said another as I shared tastes from the jar of Skillet’s bacon jam that had just arrived in the mail.

Bacon jam? Yes, indeed—it is good stuff. And so good, in fact, that I decided to figure out a way of making my own bacon jam at home so I wouldn’t have to rely on someone else for this smoky, pork-rich treat.

Over the past few months, it seems that you can’t escape the topic of bacon jam. Skillet’s rendition has certainly excited people, but at heart bacon jam is simply a potted meat, something that has been gracing battlefields, picnics, high teas and nursery suppers for hundreds of years.



For most, the term potted meat conjures up images of mystery meat in a can, but traditionally potted meat was made at home from meat scraps, herbs, spices and maybe an acid or a spirit, such as vinegar or brandy. Making potted meat was a preservation method, meant to extend the meat’s life just a few more weeks. Nothing mysterious or scary about its contents at all! Matter of fact, when made from quality ingredients, potted meat is as satisfying as pate, though it’s far easier to make. And like pate, potted meat can be either elegant and smooth or rustic with chunks.

As for my homemade bacon jam, I knew that it should have the smoky fire that comes from chipotles, the warming depth that comes from chocolate and allspice, a hint of sweetness, but also the bitterness that comes from coffee and the tang that comes from apple-cider vinegar.

I chose to use thick slices of center-cut bacon because I wanted to cook my meat for a long time and didn’t want it to completely disintegrate. And finally, I also added plenty of black pepper for heat and ancho chile powder both for its color and its fruity, nutty flavor.

Unfortunately, the first batch spent too much time in the food processor and ended up with a consistency that was a bit too creamy on the tongue; you definitely want some texture in your bacon jam to remind you of the spread’s source. But subsequent batches were just the right balance between being smooth and rough, much like your favorite homemade fruit jams where chunks of fruit are nestled in a thick syrup suspension.



Bacon jam is excellent on slices of tomatoes, plopped on a warm biscuit, stirred into a bowl of beans or spread on top of a cheeseburger. Or you can just grab a spoon and dig into your jar.

But best of all, it’s superb for sharing. You’ll soon see—nothing makes a friend's face light up more then when you pass them a jar and say, “Here, have a taste. It’s bacon jam!”

Chipotle bacon jam
1 pound of bacon
4 cloves of garlic, minced
1 sliver of onion
1-4 chipotles en adobo (depending on the level of heat you can tolerate)
2 teaspoons adobo sauce (from the can)
2 teaspoons ancho chile powder
1/2 teaspoon allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground Mexican hot chocolate
1 cup of brewed coffee
1/4 cup apple cider vinegar
Black pepper to taste

Method:
Cook the bacon until fat is rendered, but not too crisp. Cut cooked bacon into two-inch sized pieces.

On medium heat, cook the onion and garlic in one tablespoon of rendered bacon fat in a medium-sized pot for two minutes. Add the cooked bacon, spices, apple-cider vinegar and coffee. Simmer on low for two hours, stirring occasionally. If jam starts to get dry, add water, 1/4 cup at a time.

After two hours, place bacon jam into a food processor, and puree for two or three seconds, tops. You just want to bring it together but still have some chunks.

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Molletes with homemade bolillos

Do you love refried beans and cheese? Do you love a crusty yet soft roll? Then allow me to introduce you to a superb Mexican dish: molletes.

Earlier this summer, I traveled to Mexico City. It was the rainy season, which means that every afternoon it would rain for an hour or so. By the time I landed from New York, however, that day’s shower had passed, leaving the air clear and the streets clean.

I knew I wanted to stay in the Condesa neighborhood and I found a delightful place called The Red Tree House that was filled with light and trees—two things often in short supply here in New York City.

My agenda for the trip was precise: eat well and take photos. On the first morning, I woke up early with the plan to go to El Mercado Merced, the largest market in Mexico City. Before leaving, I walked through the dining area and saw a lavish display of pastries, fruits, juices and yogurt. The owner asked I wanted to stay for breakfast. The cold spread was indeed gorgeous, but I wanted something hot—namely refried beans—and so I declined and left the house.



This pattern continued for the next two days. As I was leaving, the owner or manager would ask if I wanted breakfast, and I would politely decline the pastries because I wanted to eat beans.

Three days into my stay I was talking to the manager, Ernesto. He asked if I was so interested in food, why I never stayed for breakfast. I told him that I wanted hot food, street food—I wanted to eat like the locals. He laughed and said, “Well you’re missing out because we have the best breakfast in all of Mexico City!”

Ernesto then told me that besides the pastries, the ladies also made a hot breakfast every morning. He then rattled off a list of what had been on the menu every day since my arrival. And as I listened to him, I realized that I had been missing out on some of my favorite Mexican breakfasts. I was a fool.

What had I missed? Namely, molletes. (Pronounced: mo-YEH-tehs.) One of the mornings I had been at the inn, the cooks had made molletes—a dish comprised of crusty rolls known as bolillos, split open and topped with salsa, refried beans and melted cheese.

If you know me at all, you know this: refried beans are my comfort food. And granted, I had eaten some wonderful beans during my stay in Mexico City, but I had missed out on a chance to eat probably some of the best refried beans, right there at my home away from home.



I asked Ernesto if they would be serving molletes again before I left. He said no. But no matter, as soon as I returned to New York, my first order of business was to make my own molletes, on homemade bolillo rolls. And while extremely satisfying, I do believe another trip to the Red Tree House is in order—soon—so I can compare my molletes to theirs.

Molletes
Ingredients:
4 bolillo rolls (recipe follows)
1 cup of refried beans
2 cups of shredded cheddar or Monterrey Jack cheese
1 cup of salsa

Method:
Preheat the oven to 350
Split the bolillos in half, lengthwise. Top each half with 1 tablespoon of salsa, 1/8 cup of refried beans and 1/4 cup of cheese. Bake for 10 minutes or until cheese is melted. Serve with extra salsa.

Notes: This is how I like my molletes, but the fun thing about them is that you can make them any way you like. You can make them with black beans, borracho beans, even no beans if you prefer. And feel free to add bacon or sausage.

Serves: 4

Bolillos
Ingredients:
2 1/2 cups of flour
1 cup of warm water
1 teaspoon dry yeast
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon sugar
1/4 cup of canola oil
Cornmeal

Method:
Mix together one cup of flour, yeast and warm water. Add one more cup of flour, sugar, salt and oil and stir until ingredients are combined but dough is still wet and shaggy. Let dough rest for 15 minutes.

Sprinkle 1/2 cup of flour on a clean surface and knead dough until it shapes into a ball, about 10 minutes.

Place into a greased bowl, cover and let it rise until doubled in size, about an hour.

After dough has risen, divide dough into 8 equal pieces. Take each piece and flatten it into a circle. Take one side, and fold it in half into the center. Take the opposite side and do the same. Roll folded dough with your hands until it’s spindle shaped, wider in the middle and tapered at the ends. (Here’s an expert shaping bolillos.)

Place shaped rolls on a greased or parchment-paper lined cookie sheet that’s sprinkled with a bit of cornmeal, cover, and let rise until doubled in size, about an hour.

Twenty minutes before baking, heat oven to 425 degrees. Five minutes before baking, place an oven-safe pan filled with water on the bottom of the oven.

Mix 1/2 cup of warm water with 1/4 teaspoon of salt, and brush on each roll. Then, with a sharp knife, razor or lame, make a slash lengthwise through each roll.

Place rolls on bottom rack of oven (be careful when opening oven as steam might come out) and cook for 15 minutes or until the bolilllos are light brown in color and make a hollow sound when you thump them.

These keep for a couple of days, though they if they get too soft. just reheat in the oven to firm them up. They also freeze well.

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