All natural, no-sugar peanut and pistachio butter cookies

 

 

I have been seeing recipes for these natural peanut butter cookies around for a while now. When I saw Monet post about them the other day, I knew my time had come. She has a beautiful baby daughter so I knew the recipe would be wholesome, but she is first and foremost a wonderful baker so I was certain these cookies would be really good besides being healthy.

 

That is a must in my book. My idea, and those of you who have been reading my blog for a while have heard me preach this before, is that if you are going to make a dessert or something sweet you might as well go the whole way and make something worth the calories you are ingesting. Otherwise, if you are on a health kick or trying to lose a few pounds, skip dessert altogether and have some fruit or yogurt instead.

 

 

 

 

 There are cases, however, when this does not apply, like feeding your kids afterschool snacks that are so good they won't really be able to tell they are naturally sweetened and full of wholesome ingredients.

 

So even though I still stand by my belief that a chocolate fudge cake should be a buttery, sweet, dense affair, if the result of a recipe is a lovely tasting cookie that satisfies a craving without going way overboard, why not?

 

  

 

  

With this batch of cookies I finished the jar of pistachio paste I told you about in my last post. I also used up that almost empty jar of peanut butter I had lying around for more time than I care to remember. It worked out perfectly, since I didn't have enough of either to make a whole batch of just one kind, and how do you split an egg in half?

 

Both cookies are delicious because they are so incredibly full of nutty flavor and they are just sweet enough, with that touch of salty that keeps you wanting more.

 

 

 

See how chewy these are on the inside? Mmmmmh...

 

 The peanut butter cookies are crumbly and dense, perfect to have with a cup of coffee or a big glass of milk. The pistachio cookies have a completely different texture, moist and chewy and rich. They are sweeter because I had added some sugar to the paste (ok, so there is a little sugar in the pistachio cookies, but if you want to make these 100% without sugar, pistachio butter would work just as well) and are fabulous with a cup of unsweetened tea in  my book. The different texture is the result of several factors: i) I used more pistachio paste than PB because I wanted to finish the jar, ii) the pistachio paste was not as dense as the PB, iii) the pistachio cookies baked as long as the others but they were a bit bigger in size.

 

To make the two different batches, I followed Monet's basic instructions but divided the egg mixture into two bowls. Then I added the different nut pastes into each and split the dry mixture between the two. It makes for a little extra work and more bowls to wash but this way you won't end up with a huge amount of cookies if you are making both. If making just one kind, use a whole cup of the nut butter of choice and use just one bowl for dry ingredients and one for wet ingredients.

 

 

 

 

Dried fruit truffles (a healthy, vegan, sugar free, slow carb snack that is much more delicious than it sounds!)

 

 

Girls are girls from the minute they enter this world, I don't care what they say about nature vs. nurture.

I never brought up my daughter as a girly girl and went as far as putting a ban on pink during my pregnancy and the first half year of her life. Admittedly, a phase that did not last very long, thanks to overeager relatives (she was and still is the only female in a pretty large group of cousins) and that unstoppable process that makes parents do a string of things they swore smugly they would never do before actually becoming one.

Nevertheless, my daughter has grown up wearing pants more than dresses and "sensible" colors so that certain clothing items can be passed down to her little brother when she grows out of them. When it comes to toys, we have never denied her Barbie dolls or princess accessories, but we try to keep a pretty gender neutral approach in general.
 

 

 

 

This has not mitigated the traits in her that are so often ascribed to the female population in the least. She is a real chatterbox, extremely curious, very observant (as in nothing goes unnoticed) and loves clothes, hair, make up and jewelry.  She has been known to make earrings out of stickers, paperclips, fruit and flowers and is always excited to receive the sparkly Disney merchandising I so abhor as presents. She is undeniably a girl. A jeans-clad, sneaker-wearing girl with a glittery soul.

If I wear an old sweater I haven't worn for a while I immediately get asked "Did you go shopping?". If she is in the kitchen doing her homework and I tell her brother off in the bedroom, you can bet your bottom dollar that her head will be sticking through the doorway, neck craning, to see what is happening. She can hear you say something from the other end of the apartment even if you think she is busy dancing and singing, and will come up and enquire about it with insistence. Discreet she is not.

She ooohs and aaaahs on the rare occasions I wear heels.

The other day, the minute I walked into the kitchen after getting ready, she looked up at the very thin stripe of eyeliner I had applied and exclaimed: "Mommy, that black line on your eyes is sooo pretty!". My son is still trying to find it.

I scream, you scream, we all scream for ice cream! Bittersweet chocolate and maple butter pecan

 

This post is looooong overdue.

True, I was gone for a few days here, doing this. I have been back for a while now, except I stepped off of the plane directly into an intense reporting season at work combined with the end of summer school, which means F and I have been juggling morning and afternoon parenting duties with one of us rushing out the door to go to the office the minute the other steps in.

I did however find time to buy a shiny new toy.

Don't say I didn't warn you, because I mentioned here that I knew this was likely to happen sooner or later, only you probably didn't think it would be so much sooner rather than later. But hey, I have plenty of perfectly good excuses*.

Those of you who follow me on Pinterest may already have a hunch. Roll of drums please.

Ladies and gents, I present you my brand new Kitchen Aid Ice Cream maker attachment.

This baby churns out some delicious ice cream, this said by someone who lives in the land of gelato. 

I get all the reasons for not owning an ice cream machine, because I had all of them until a few days ago. I understand not having the kitchen space, being lazy about planning ahead, not wanting to be tempted by the extra calories or preferring to splurge on a pair of heels.

But then again, if you have the cooking bug; if you need to watch out how many calories you ingest (yes, I am totally aware that I just used this pro as a con in the paragraph above) and thus every fat-laden calorie has to be delicious and worth its while; if you are the kind of person who despite feeling lazy, is willing to go out on a dark, cold winter evening to buy some ice cream; if you can spend an inordinate amount of time thinking about what flavor you will choose the next time you have an ice cream, because there are oh so many possibilities! well, then you should own one, what are you waiting for?

Oh, the calories... Well, although it is early on to argue my point, it is much more time consuming to make ice cream than to open a container and this makes you appreciate it more once it is ready. Also, when you realize what goes into your homemade ice cream, even if you are using wholesome and organic ingredients that you can count on one hand, you will think twice about having a second serving.

I admit to having initially developed a little custard-phobia whilst reading the many recipes I found online. I mean, I had gone down the custard path before, but reading one post after the other about curdling, lovely creams turning into scrambled eggs, made me a little anxious.
So far I have made two flavors and have yet to encounter the "c" problem. It may just be beginner's luck, but I actually find the process pretty easy and I did not use a food thermometer.

Then there was also an initial scare with my ice cream machine attachment. My European version just doesn't seem to attach well to the motorhead and during my first attempt, in my zealousness to fit it better halfway through churning, I almost broke it and had to finish churning my chocolate ice cream by hand before freezing (which explains the somewhat odd texture you may notice in the photos). I was already feeling very sorry for myself when I read on several forums that the piece isn't really supposed to fit tightly. So after a wobbly start (honestly, the instructions sorta sucked) I realized that was just how it works and have started mixing in the chunky bits by hand at then end rather than during the last couple of minutes as suggested (my attachment unhinged again when I tried that). Better safe than sorry.

The end result, however, is delicious and I love that I didn't have to buy a whole new appliance, so I am still a fan of the Kitchen Aid accessory, despite the wobbliness (why can't the attachment just be like the more-stable-looking US version for crying out loud?).

Now, let's get down to business.

Pumpkin muffins with streusel topping and maple cream cheese filling

You know from my last post that the past week has been kinda rough. On Friday my colleagues and I filled box after box, took our children's drawings off of the walls, erased the pictures of them on our desktops. Co-workers from other floors filed in one at a time or in small groups to shake hands, hug us and wish us luck. We had a farewell coffee with pastries and foccaccia. A tear or two was shed. It was tough. The hardest part was saying goodbye to three great girls I have been working with for a long time, some even eight years. In this time they have become good friends, a family away from home. We became mothers together, we literally grew up together and all I can say is that I still miss being with them in the same room every minute of my working day.

When I got home yet another good friend came to bid me farewell.  An American expat like myself, our girls were born a few days apart and literally grew up together, going to the same day care, pre-school, kindergarden and elementary school. Needless to say they are best friends and over the years our families bonded. We went on to have two boys and spent many a vacation and week end together. Now she has left too, she lives in a different city and I am happy for her and her new life despite the loss.

But you will agree with me when I say it is cruel to say good bye to four sisters in just a handful of hours.

But then I had a bittersweet phone conversation on Skype and met beautiful little Laura. And the next evening my best friends and husband stepped in at just the right time and organized another, delayed birthday party for me. Just to remind me that I am one lucky girl, with lots of great friends and a job to keep me safe and comfortable.

And so instead of curling into the fetal position and crying myself to sleep like I admit having considered on Friday I decided to celebrate the coming of the fall and Halloween and all that is good in life. Life is full of spice, just like these muffins (that are really cupcakes in disguise, minus the mess because the frosting is on the inside), with a rich and sweet heart.

Make these for your family on Halloween. They are insanely moist with a creamy heart and the lovely crunch of sugar and cinnamon on top.

 

Adapted from Annie's eats.

Maple syrup and rolled oat scones

This past week end was an Ikea week end. Ikea is like a black hole, everything you do on an Ikea weekend, before or after, somehow revolves around your trip there, gets sucked into it. First comes the idea: should we take a quick trip to Ikea to look at xyz (replace xyz with any Swedish name)? Come on, even while you are saying it, you know no trip to Ikea is a quick one. Whether you think you will just glance around or go exactly to aisle number 3 to pick up that one box, forget it. They will be out of that product or you will get distracted on the way there by those cute new blue-and-white striped napkins. Or you will suddenly need the four adorable colored bowls that cost only €3. If that doesn't happen, you will end up in the restaurant eating kottbullar (yup, the meatballs) or drinking a cup of coffee and nibbling on one of those flourescent green cilinders dipped in chocolate. And if you don't go to the restaurant, be sure you will end up driving home with some gravad lax or a bag of frozen pyttipanna from the store, which you will eat for dinner or lunch the next day (and a few dozens of candles and lotsa lightbulbs, because if you buy a lamp there you are doomed).

If you have kids, don't even get me started. Sometimes you go there just because you don't have a sitter. You park in the family parking space right next to the entrance. Your kid gets a ladybug sticker with her name on it, a number stamped on her hand (and you do too) and off she goes to play in the enchanted forest of Smaland, where nice people play and draw with her for free while you roam the floors, look at all the Billy bookshelves filled with fake Swedish books, your other kid or dog happily seated in trolleys made just for them. While you speak to the nice man with the yellow and blue Ikea shirt your child plays with those multifunctional columns strategically placed among the furniture. You end up buying a a stuffed rat or elk and a 7-pack of bibs while your child goes through the hole and down the slide in the kiddie section, which is strategically placed next to the cafeteria. The only way to lure them away is by promising them the full, organic lunch for €2. And then, while you sip your coffee, Daddy takes the little one to the bathroom because there are changing tables and tiny toilets and sinks in the men's room too.

When you get home you think you left Ikea at the turnpike, but no, it has followed you albeit without the pleasant smell of aromatic candles and the helpful salespeople (where are they when you need them?). The boxes seem to have multiplied in your trunk on the drive, those big blue bags are all over the place. The Kritter bed you thought would take five minutes to build has four different kinds of screws (x11) and you only realized you inverted the parts of the Stefan chair when you are about to put in that last screw. You marriage is at risk by evening and when you calm down enough to understand it is that darn instruction manual's fault, you are too exhausted to have make-up sex. Days later you will still find allen spanners strewn across the apartment, a sweet reminder that Ikea is just at an arm's reach if you need it.

Scones are a bit like Ikea, they make you feel cozy and pampered. You can be in Turkey and still feel like you are in England when you bite into one, just like Ikea makes you feel like you are in the organized, environmentally aware Sweden even if you are in Rome.

When Smitten Kitchen posted these last week, I knew my time to try making scones had finally come. Oatmeal, check. Maple syrup, check. Yup, I had almost everything I needed, and Deb kindly responded to my enquiry of what to substitute the 1/4 cup of wholewheat flour I didn't have with, regular flour or oats? I was set to go. They turned out just right, not too sweet, with a strong enough but not overpowering aroma of maple syrup. Since they are best when made the same day you intend to consume them, I prepared them and left them unbaked in the fridge the evening before and baked them the next morning. They were perfect. I then froze the baked ones and reheated them the morning after that and they were still just as good. My only note: the recipe suggested baking for 20-25 minutes. When they had been in for 18 minutes I realized they were turning dark and took them out just before the bottoms would have started burning. So keep an eye on them while they are in the oven. I made some maple butter to eat with them by beating a little maple syrup into softened unsalted butter, but if you have clotted cream on hand by all means indulge.

Very French French toast

Today I have both my childrens' Christmas recitals/parties pretty much at the same time, which means F and I will spend most of the afternoon running back and forth from the venues like the characters in a sitcom (luckily they are in adjacent buildings). This after I spent the past two weeks hunting down light blue tights for my daughter's recital. All I can say is that the most I got was a smirk from the sales girls and the statement that baby blue was last winter's collection. ???

 

Daaaahling (as one of you would say), you are soooo last season!

Finally, I tracked them down in the city of Genoa of all places, and surely enough I was told they were left over from last year's stock. Only to find out yesterday that my daughter will be wearing them ON HER HEAD! Don't ask, all I know is that she will be one of Santa's little helpers because I have heard her sing it over and over and over again for the same past two weeks. My little boy is still too small to dress up or sing, so I think he will just be stuffing his face with food and some of the Christmas decorations.

Aaaanyway. Remember my French friend Sally Lunn? If any of you decided to bake her recipe, please promise me you will set aside a few slices to make French toast with. It is out of this world! Luckily we only had two slices left each or I would have just kept on eating and eating, and I am usually totally a pancake person.

Fall in a bite: pumpkin cinnamon rolls with maple icing

It is grey and rainy, chilly but not really cold. Leaves are falling from the trees, even the sidewalks of this not-very-green city are carpeted in browns, yellows, reds and oranges. When I ride home from work on my bike, I smell the first roasted chestnuts of the season and all I want to do is sit in front of a blazing fire and peel them, quickly moving them from hand to hand to avoid burning myself and getting my fingers all black and sooty.

I like the fall, when it starts getting dark early and you look forward to getting home and putting on your comfy loungewear; when you eat soup every evening and you still want more; when you start planning for the holidays and making lists, only to end up doing everything last minute anyway and promising you will get it right next year.

Maple-glazed chicken thighs and bad days

Yesterday was a bad day. Or rather it started bad, got worse and then actually got better. 

As many of you know, being a working mom leaves you no other choice than to entrust people you don't know very well with what is most precious to you. I went through this with my first born and it was excruciating. This time it was a little easier. I knew I wouldn't miss out on the important things, I knew I would still be his number 1. And both times I was lucky to find people who cared. A few weeks ago emergency struck, so enter a new person. Not the perfect fit, I was aware at the time, but comfortable enough to help until day care started in a month. Or so I thought.