Month: May 2012

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Eggs à l’Oignon and a Defense of Food Bloggers

I want you to know just if you can / where I stand. / Tell myself that a new day is rising, / get on the rise. / A new day is dawning; / here I am.

Bob Marley’s voice is currently trickling out of the speakers of the deli I visit once a week or so. The reggae beat floats down to meet black and white tile, rain-stained windows, a soda fountain.

Tonight’s dinner was half a tuna salad sandwich and a cup of hot soup. I finished it a few minutes ago and I’m now paying only occasional attention to my Coke Zero while I compose this post.

Marley’s words come at an apt time, because I want to tell you about where I stand. The International Association of Culinary Professionals’ website just published an incendiary (but nothing new, actually, and nothing unexpected) opinion article by Amy Reiley that charged food bloggers with “faking it”: faking the recipe development, food journalism, and cooking expertise that the culinary industry is supposedly painstakingly cultivating.

Essentially, upon realizing that food bloggers are not testing their recipes dozens of times but are still being employed by companies to create recipes (like this one I created for McCormick — and tested, by the way — that is flippin’ awesome and you should make immediately), Reiley decided that food blogging represents a “dumbing down” of food culture. The IACP has since published a piece noting that these are solely Reiley’s opinions and don’t reflect the view of the association as a whole, saying, “OBVIOUSLY, at the end day, it isn’t really the medium that matters, but the work itself” (okay, I added the OBVIOUSLY part. But really!)

I say this is nothing new because the article is doing the same thing the Marie Claire article about health food bloggers was doing a year ago. The same thing Mario Batali was doing when he discussed food bloggers on Eater. That is, trying to discredit a medium that seems like an imminent threat to their fancy-official-cooking-people-ness. They have everything to gain from doing so, but it’s not going to work (unless bloggers shoot themselves in the foot; more on this later) because real people love hearing from other real people about food.

Here’s why Amy Reiley is wrong about food writing and the role blogging plays in it:

1. Real people have always shared food ideas with other real people — blogs just make it more convenient.

People visit major cooking websites, read cooking magazines, visit restaurants, and watch cooking shows to have enjoyable food experiences. But they also talk to other people to share ideas — and they always have. When I started cooking, I called my mom for ideas and received recipes from grandparents, friends, and coworkers. But blogging means that instead of limiting my personal culinary network to our friends and family, I can now search an extended network of personal ideas and experiences. I have hundreds of blogs on my regular reading rotation and I can’t imagine how limited my exposure to food and ideas would be without them.

2. People don’t go to blogs for rigorously tested recipes. They go to blogs for carefully created recipes that, from the blogger’s perspective, are worth trying.

When I log onto Suzie’s blog and she shares her creation, I know that her standard for how much testing needs to be done before publishing a recipe might be different than America’s Test Kitchen, but if I love Suzie’s personality, have similar food preferences, and think she’s creating neat recipes, I might want to try her ideas anyway. If I try something that doesn’t work for me, I can choose to try again or to stop visiting Suzie’s site. Or even better, I can let Suzie know what happened and we can troubleshoot it together, thus improving both of our culinary experiences — because Suzie is a real person just like me.

This is no different than if my Aunt Matilda made up a killer recipe and shared it with me at our last board game night. I’m not going to tell Aunt Matilda to stop sharing her awesome creations with me unless she’s tested the recipe 5 times, and I’m not going to tell Suzie that either. I get recipes from America’s Test Kitchen sometimes, and I get recipes from Aunt Matilda sometimes (well not really, because I made Aunt Matilda up, but you get the idea) — and they both play an important role in my culinary life.

3. Blogs provide something that food journalism, cooking shows, restaurants, and commercial test kitchens do not.

People know that when they visit blogs, they’re getting personal cooking wisdom that’s not produced by a company. If people only wanted recipes, blogs wouldn’t be so popular. Folks would just grab a cookbook or log onto Food Network’s website and be done with it. But sometimes people want more than that: they want a relationship with a person. They want to get to know you through your writing, hear your personal experiences with the dish, or take part in the community you create on your blog. They want to enjoy social networking with bloggers they love (Joy the Baker’s tweets regularly make my day.) They want to discuss what to do with Maple Balsamic Vinegar on your Facebook page. They want you to show off the awesome cake they made (the first they’d ever made from scratch!)

They might also want personal attention. I troubleshooted a pie with a lovely reader for her Memorial Day celebration today, and I can honestly say that I don’t think Mario Batali’s gonna bother emailing you back about that lasagna you have in the oven.

4. You don’t get to dictate what someone else wants from their food experiences.

In a recent article cataloging a few chefs’ opinions on food photography in restaurants, most chefs seemed to realize that guests get to choose, as long as they aren’t infringing on the rights of others, what they want from their evening. If this means taking a bad instagram photo of the dishes they ate and posting them in an album called, “GoOd EaTz!!” on Facebook, so be it. R.J. Cooper was the only chef who seemed to think he knew his guests’ goals for the evening, and as a result, he came off sounding pretty pompous: “You’re there for the dining experience with your companion, not to take photos of food.”

The truth is, R.J. Cooper doesn’t get to decide what you’re there for. Maybe you’re in his restaurant because you can’t wait to try a certain dish on his menu. Maybe you’re there to catch a glance of the jerkazoid who justified his hatred of restaurant photography by saying that it makes your dinner take too long and hurts his bottom line (he really said that!) Maybe you’re there because the sparkly disco decor reminds you of those awesome go-go boots you used to own (full disclosure: I have no idea how Rogue 24 is decorated — and don’t ever intend to visit — but disco is doubtful.)

Just like Cooper doesn’t have a stranglehold on diners’ opinions, “culinary professionals” don’t have a stranglehold on eaters’ opinions. They don’t get to decide that people only want recipes that have been tested dozens of times (or even that companies do — companies have realized, finally, that people enjoy hearing from bloggers). Each person can decide for themselves what information they’re interested in consuming.

5. Democratization always lets in “riff raff,” but the influx of amazing ideas is so worth it.

There are people with fantastic ideas that haven’t had the money, time, or life circumstances to become a “culinary professional.” We love the shows where hometown cooks try out to be the Next Food Star Master Cook and always root for the underdog. Until that underdog gets a blog and starts claiming they actually know what they’re talking about, that is.

The truth is, lots of people have great ideas and everyone deserves to share theirs. This does mean some silly ideas — maybe even a lot of silly ideas! — will find their way into a public forum. But first of all, there already were a lot of silly ideas, mostly thanks to companies that cared more about profit than about health, food, or people. Second, people are allowed to choose which ideas they want to pay attention to. If they do choose to pay attention to the pumpkin dump cake that uses a cake mix and a can of pumpkin instead of your religiously tested croquembouche, that’s their right. (Not to mention that I’ve tried plenty of those religiously tested recipes that ended up sucking. Just sayin’.)

6. We’re still gonna visit those “culinary professionals'” restaurants, read their books, subscribe to their magazines, value their carefully tested recipes, etc.

Blogs won’t stop people from paying “culinary professionals.” We think they’re kind of cute when they’re all angry and fussing about people stealing jobs. But more importantly, we’ll still care about their work because we love food, and just like blogs play a valuable piece in the food puzzle, they do too! We love those crazy “professionals” and all of their compulsive testing (here’s looking at you, ATK), fancy affirmations and accolades, and expensive equipment.

I’m being slightly tongue-in-cheek, here, though, because the truth is, plenty of bloggers are as professional as any “professional.” Plenty do test recipes repeatedly, plenty have written books, plenty have been to culinary school or worked in the culinary industry in other capacities. And those of us who haven’t are still pretty crafty.

Now for the caveat. There is a way that food bloggers can inadvertently justify Reiley’s concerns: by forgetting our place and our role, and pretending to be something we’re not. More and more bloggers are concerned with their “brand” and merging the world of blogging and business. To an extent, there’s nothing wrong with that; this is a business, even for me, and I’m concerned about maintaining the right image for Willow Bird Baking. I’m flippin’ overjoyed that I can get paid to create recipes, share stories, and host a little meeting place here for all of us. But I have to remember that my “business” is to be a real person communicating with other real people.

This means I won’t sacrifice my honest relationship with my readers for the sake of partnering with a business. It means I won’t represent myself as a “culinary professional” in any sense that’s misleading to readers. They’ll know that they’re getting simple recipes from a creative home cook in Charlotte, NC, and not from Cook’s Illustrated. I won’t mention products or companies that don’t fit in this space for the sake of getting paid. And I also won’t turn down products and companies that should show up in this space due to lack of payment. I’ll share with readers what I’d appreciate being shared with me as someone who loves food, loves people and their passionate endeavors, and loves honest discourse.

Basically, bloggers need to be real people, not businesses parading as real people (and not real people parading as businesses.) As long as we’re all honest about our experience and our culinary viewpoint, I think we should let the public decide on their own who’s “faking it” and who’s not. Deal? Deal.

In keeping with the spirit of this post, here’s a homey little recipe I made up for Mike and have made a few times since then. It’s a pantry meal packed with a mellow, gorgeous onion flavor and a creamy secret ingredient — mayonnaise! Don’t shy away if you’re not a mayo fan; it lends the slightest tanginess and a gorgeous texture to the dish that I think you’ll love.

I’ve “tested” this recipe in my own kitchen a few times, and I hope it works for you, too! If not, let me know, and we’ll fix it together while Mario Batali is out being too fancy to respond to your emails. Okay?

One year ago: (Freshly Picked!) Strawberry Cream Pie
Two years ago: Caramel Cream Croquembouche

Eggs à l’Oignon


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 2 servings

These eggs begin with aromatic minced shallots and garlic sautéed in butter. Mayonnaise lends a slight tanginess and a gorgeous texture after cooking, and the green onions sprinkled on top round out the delicate onion flavor. You’ll love these for breakfast or even as a quick, simple dinner, which is how Mike and I enjoyed them.

Ingredients:
4 eggs
2 tablespoons heavy cream
salt and pepper to taste
2 teaspoons minced garlic
1 tablespoon minced shallot
1 1/2 tablespoons mayonnaise (Hellmann’s, preferably)
1 tablespoon butter
green onions and a sprinkling of Parmesan cheese for topping

Directions:
Whisk eggs, cream, salt, and pepper together in a medium bowl. Heat a large skillet over medium-high heat and melt the butter in it. Add the garlic and shallots and sauté for about 30 seconds or until very fragrant. Pour in eggs and scramble them, removing them to a plate when they appear just slightly moist (they will finish cooking on the plate). Smear them with mayonnaise and Parmesan cheese and mix them to combine. Top with green onions and serve immediately.

Other great pieces on food blogging that you should read:
In Defense of Food Blogging on Amateur Gourmet
Are Food Bloggers ‘Faking It?’ on Lighter and Local

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Blueberry Scones with Maple Glaze

I think I’d make a fantastic grandfather. I don’t have a “walking three miles to school! in the snow! uphill both ways!” story, but I have a tale of effort and hardship almost as edifying-and-simultaneously-annoying. I like to call it the tale of the forgotten essay.

My students hear it so often that I’m sure they know it by heart. All I have to say is, “Have I told you that story–” and they all cry, “Yes!” I think they hope that this affirmation will prevent me from telling it again; alas, I always launch right in.

They’ll be glad that I’m finally writing it down (if only so that they can print it out and ceremonially shred it).

I tell the tale of the forgotten essay for the same reason many other storytellers have told many other great stories: to inspire young people towards responsibility, honor, and success. And groans. And the occasional eye roll, apparently.

It also begins the way many other great stories begin: “When I was your age…” (Incidentally, it was at this point in the story recently when one of my students dropped his head into his arms melodramatically. I think he was overcome with excitement about the inspiring tale he knew was coming.)

See, when I was their age, I was a driven, successful student. Any grade below an A was unacceptable. I stayed up until 3 a.m. most nights working diligently on homework assignments or projects.

One day I walked into my first period English class around 10 minutes before the schoolday began. When I sat down at my desk and looked around, I knew something was amiss. My classmates each had a lengthy piece of writing in front of them. It suddenly hit me like a freight train: I’d forgotten to write the essay assigned for homework.

I sheepishly approached my teacher, who was monitoring the hallway before class. “Ms. S,” I began, “I made a big mistake: I forgot to write the essay last night. I’m so sorry. Is there any way I could have a little extra time?”

I have to admit, I expected leniency. I was a superb student and tried harder than almost any of my classmates. I had never missed an assignment before. I always tried to go the extra mile.

Ms. S peered at me over her glasses and replied, “No.”

I was crushed and admittedly a touch bitter, but I didn’t have time to dwell. I walked back into the classroom and looked at the clock. There were eight minutes left until the bell would call Ms. S into the classroom. My bitterness was replaced by a rush of adrenaline and resolve. I took out a sheet of paper, grabbed my pencil, and began writing.

Eight minutes later, Ms. S stood at the front of the room collecting the essays. With a sigh of relief, I placed my work on the stack. She raised her eyebrows in approval.

Believe it or not, I got the paper back a few days later (oh, Ms. S, I now know what a miracle it was that you were able to grade papers so quickly) with a good grade scrawled across the top. I don’t remember the grade exactly (like a striped bass, it gets more impressive every time I tell the story), but it was solidly acceptable.

…And now I can lovingly goad my students with this story whenever they have an excuse for not trying their best.

Truthfully, though, we all have times when we’re in an unexpected pickle, and continuing to try can be daunting. Last Sunday I found myself in that position. I was supposed to make a special cake for a Mother’s Day dinner, but for reasons I won’t bore you with (I’ll just cry to Byrd about them), I found myself unable to commit to a long recipe.

There was at least an hour where I lay curled up on my bed with Byrd, wondering how I could make anything at all. Finally, though, with Mike’s encouragement, I began poking about online. As soon as I found a recipe for blueberry scones, I knew it was the eight-minute-essay of a dessert that I’d been looking for.

Thankfully, they turned out delicious. And even more lovely is the fact that I now have another story about determination to bore my students with.

When have you pushed past an obstacle to succeed?

One year ago: Coffee Mousse Filled Double Chocolate Chunk Cookie Sandwiches
Two years ago: Lemon Raspberry Cake

Blueberry Scones with Maple Glaze


Recipe by: Adapted slightly from Tyler Florence (scones) and Recipe Girl (glaze)
Yield: 8 scones or 16 mini-scones

These scones are delicious, quick, and easy. They can literally be mixed, baked, and glazed within 45 minutes — perfect for my crisis Sunday! I love the combination of maples and blueberry because it reminds me of a sweet blueberry pancake breakfast.

Scone Ingredients:
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons sugar, plus more for sprinkling
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold, cut in chunks
1 cup fresh blueberries
1 cup heavy cream, plus more for brushing the scones

Maple Glaze Ingredients:
1/3 cup icing sugar
2 Tbs maple syrup
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 400 degrees F and line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Sift flour, baking powder, salt, and sugar together (I usually do this on a piece of wax paper that I can then use as a chute to pour the ingredients into a bowl) and place them in the bowl of a food processor. Pulse the cold butter into the mixture 6-8 times until the mixture looks like coarse crumbs (you can do this with a pastry cutter or two knives if you don’t have a food processor.) Pour the flour mixture into a bowl and fold in the blueberries gently so as not to break them. Make a well in the center of this mixture, add the heavy cream, and slowly work the flour and cream together to form a dough, being careful not to overmix.

Lightly flour a surface and press the dough out (careful not to handle it too much; the butter should stay in tiny, cold pieces) into a long, skinny rectangle: about 12 inches by 3 inches. Cut the rectangle in half and in half again so that you have a row of 4 3-inch squares. Cut each square in half diagonally to form your scones (you can cut them in half on the other diagonal, too, if you want mini-scones.) Place the scones on the prepared baking sheets, brush on heavy cream, sprinkle with sugar, and bake for 15 to 20 minutes or until golden.

Let scones cool while you mix the glaze. Whisk icing sugar, cinnamon, and maple syrup together until smooth and drizzle over the scones. Eat immediately.

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cakes, cupcakes, other, pies and tarts

Ten Willow Bird Coconut Recipes

You guys have probably noticed that I’ve been a little coconut nutty (coconutty?) lately. I hated coconut as a child, so now that I understand its unadulterated deliciousness, I have to make up for lost time. If you’re trying to catch up as well, here’s a round-up of 10 delicious coconut recipes for you to try.

1. Banana Coconut Cream Cakes
2. Banana Coconut Cream Cupcakes
3. Pumpkin Oat Snack Cake with Broiled Coconut Icing
4. Caramelized Banana Upside-Down Coconut Cake & Coconut Whipped Cream


5. Brownie-Bottom Coconut Chocolate Cream Cake
6. Tres Leches Coconut Cake Trifle
7. Oatmeal Cake with Broiled Coconut Icing
8. Nanaimo Bars


9. Coconut Cream Tart
10. Buttery Coconut & Almond Morning Buns


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cakes

Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake

At one of my first jobs, I’d get so bored that getting up to refill my water was the highlight of my day. It was even better when the ice machine on our floor was broken, because then I got to go on a little mid-afternoon odyssey, if you will. The quest for ice was full of exciting choices: should I try the break room upstairs or head down to the cafeteria? Should I take the stairs or elevator?

Yep, it was straight out of Indiana Jones.

I finally started doing this thing where around 1 o’clock, I’d think to myself: “It’s 1 o’clock! Which is almost 2 o’clock! And that’s almost 3 o’clock. And 3 o’clock is basically 4 o’clock. So essentially, it’s time to go home.” My absurd time logic got me through the day. That and paperclip art projects.

Thankfully, I love my current job and don’t have a spare moment to count down the hours of the day. I do occasionally find myself counting down with the students towards summer, though, in spite of myself. And right now I’m thinking, “It’s finally May! Which means it’s almost the end of May! Which means June is basically here! Which means it’s essentially summer!”

Really, though, I need summer told hold off a bit while I finalize my summer to-do list. This summer I have a lot of very important plans. For instance:

1. Find an entire day to set aside for painting my nails so that, for once in my life, I can let them fully dry instead of immediately smearing them all over everything.

2. Convince Byrd that going for a walk is not some unique form of doggie torture. What kind of a dog doesn’t like walks? (I ask her all the time, and she has yet to provide a reasonable response.)

3. Drink lots of berry or lemon water, preferably while wearing a ridiculous floppy hat.

4. Go to the gym. And maybe even exercise there instead of getting nervous and awkward and deciding to run back out the door before anyone notices me. I bought a Groupon, so I have to do it now, right? Groupons are like little mini contracts I make with myself: “Here, self, you have to go to the gym for a month,” or the less productive, “Here, self, you have to go buy $30 worth of Mexican fare at this taqueria.”

5. Continue the chronological reading of the Bible that I’m doing with my church.

6. Bake all the things, photograph all the things, post all the things! Blog blog blog.

7. Drive to the beach with Mike with the windows rolled down and the 80s pop music turned up. Note to self: This will probably require convincing Mike that he likes the beach, driving with the windows down, and 80s pop music.

8. Cart my laptop (!!) all over creation, and do fancy things on the internet anywhere I can find some wi-fi and a fountain soda. Fancy things include (but are not limited to) posting witty Facebook statuses, pinning ridiculous baked goods, and checking my email obsessively.

9. Lead a Cupcake Capers summer camp for middle schoolers that will end in a cupcake picnic every single day (if you know of a middle schooler in Charlotte who might want to join in, get in touch!)

10. Eat berries. Eat cake. Eat berries with cake!

I’ve always loved strawberry shortcake, but this Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake is a new take on the summery dessert. Gooey Butter Cake itself is a super-moist, almost custard-like buttery cake that hails from St. Louis. By most accounts, it began life as a happy culinary accident, but it’s now a well-beloved local quirk in the Lou.

My fear is that you’re going to immediately deem Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake too sweet for your taste, so let me address that next: this dessert has the perfect balance of sweet cake, tangy berries, and freshly whipped cream that, without sugar added, lends a rich background bitterness. In short, it’s quite a savvy combination and not cloying in the least.

Indeed, it’s one of those desserts where you take the first bite and just have to give yourself a hearty, full-mouthed, back-patting, “Uh-huh!”

It’s rare to find a treat that manages to be so decadent and summery at the same time. Also — a real plus for busy summer days — it’s easy to throw together and (you know me) eat straight from the skillet.

What are your summer plans?

One year ago: Pasta Carbonara
Two years ago: Mini Doughnuts for your coffee cup: a creative use for yeast dough scraps!

Gooey Butter Strawberry Shortcake


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking, adapted from one provided to St. Louis Today by Fred and Audrey Heimburger of Heimburger Bakery.
Yield: would easily serve 4-6 people

I don’t know if I really need to sell this to you, but just in case: this is gooey butter cake + strawberry shortcake, so basically, it’s perfect. The tart strawberries and soft whipping cream are unsweetened, and the gooey butter cake itself has a surprisingly balanced sweetness (I expected it to lean more towards cloying), so altogether, this dish has the perfect sweetness level. It’s a beautiful, simple harbinger of summer.

Crust Ingredients:
1 cup cake flour
3 tablespoons granulated sugar
1/3 cup butter, softened

Filling Ingredients:
1 1/4 cups granulated sugar
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, softened
1 egg
1 cup all-purpose flour
2/3 cup evaporated milk
1/4 cup light corn syrup
1 teaspoon vanilla
icing sugar

Toppings Ingredients:
1 pound strawberries, quartered
2 cups heavy whipping cream

Directions:
NOTE: If you don’t have a skillet, I believe you can bake this in a greased 9-inch square baking dish (I’d use a glass one if you have it, and check it early and often. Remove when there’s some jiggle left.) Let us know how it goes if you try it this way for all the other skilletless people!

Make the crust: Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Whisk together cake flour and sugar in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter with a pastry cutter or two knives until the mixture resembles fine crumbs and starts to cling together. Press the mixture into the bottom (this step is a lot harder than it sounds, but be patient and use the back of a spoon to help spread/press the mixture down. I also stuck mine in the fridge for a bit to make the butter less sticky) and up the sides of a 10-inch cast iron skillet.

Make the filling: Cream together the butter and sugar until fluffy and pale yellow (about 2-3 minutes). Mix in the egg until just combined. Alternate adding the flour and evaporated milk, mixing after each addition. Mix in the corn syrup and vanilla. Pour the filling into the crust and sprinkle the top with icing sugar (I forgot to do this, and did it afterwards. Oops).

Bake and assemble the cake: Bake for 25 to 35 minutes or until cake is nearly set (mine was probably ready around 30). Some jiggle is fine — do not overcook! It’ll finish setting up as it cools. Let it cool in pan for 2 hours. In the meantime, beat heavy cream to stiff peaks. Pile heaps of fresh strawberries into the center of your cooled, set gooey butter cake, top with a mountain of freshly whipped cream, and serve.

P.S. This lovely background fabric is from a sweet local fabric shop in Cornelius, NC, called Cotton Ginny’s. If you’re in the area, you should stop in — there’s great stuff there and a sweet little canine greeter named Maggie.

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cookies, other

Malted Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Bars

Mornings are usually sluggish for my 7th graders, but this morning they were just barely reining in their excitement. Really, my hands were the only ones on the reins. I had a few last minute instructions to issue before letting them dive into the hip hop project we’re working on. Before I could finish, Jake’s hand shot up.

“We should work outside!” he cried. Ah, the inevitable springtime advent of the request.

Jake continued to build his argument: “It’s so nice outside right now!” Others chimed in: “We need space to work! It’ll be too loud in here! We need inspiration from nature!” Concluding their chorus, Jake slapped the final brick on the wall of pleading: he evoked the very outdoorsy nature of our school itself.

“It’s Woodlawn, Ms. Ruble.”

I looked around at their best attempt at persuasive puppy eyes. The battle was clearly won.

I sighed, vanquished, and that was all the permission they needed. They grabbed up laptops and lyrics and were out the door before I could so much as find my clipboard. They worked joyfully in the sunshine all class, pausing only to confer with me when I called them over to the picnic table where I sat.

I may sigh and “hmm” and squint when it’s made, but really, I don’t mind the request. At least once a week, one of my 6th or 7th graders issues it: can we read outside? Can we write our poems outside? Can we discuss outside?

My first instinct is always to say no, but I’m not sure why. Maybe it’s a relic of my first days of teaching, when a change in my schedule induced panic: What if I can’t adjust? What if my lesson plan fails today? The layers of experience and maturity I’ve gained over the years along with the pleasantly flexible atmosphere at Woodlawn have cured me by now, but sometimes my instincts seem to forget.

Thankfully, I can overrule them. And in so doing, I might even end up in the sunshine with some fantastic 13-year-old hip hop artists. Kids have the best ideas.

One idea kids love almost as much as being outside is eating cookie dough. Since I posted the three eggless cookie doughs to eat with a spoon, my students have been whipping them up like crazy. They come in with stories about how they made cookie dough at a sleepover, ate a whole bowl of it by themselves, or dumped way too much salt in their latest batch and had to throw it away. Okay, well they don’t always have the best ideas.

Their love of cookie dough has inspired me to work the treat into all of my middle school cooking camps lately, and that’s where these Malted Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Bars were first created. Seven students in my Brownies & Bars after school camp were the first people in the universe to make this original Willow Bird recipe. Didn’t they do a nice job?

If you think they look pretty, you ought to taste one. The cookie dough has a unique twist: a malted chocolate flavor straight out of a 1950s soda shop and bits of Whopper candies strewn throughout. I think my favorite part, though, is how well the buttery graham cracker crust supports the other flavors. If you’re a cookie dough fan or love a good malty dessert, you must make these.

As a bonus, this is one of those super easy recipes. You bake the crust for about 6 minutes and then you get to turn your oven off. A little mixing and a little chilling and these bars are ready to eat. I have a feeling my students are going to have a new sleepover snack.

Now, time to go outside and enjoy the spring!

One year ago: Maple Bacon Doughnuts
Two years ago: Assorted Truffles in a Chocolate Bowl

Malted Chocolate Chip Cookie Dough Bars


Recipe by: Willow Bird Baking
Yield: 8-12 bars

These little bars are super simple to make but so delicious! A buttery graham cracker crust supports malted chocolate cookie dough filled with Whopper candy pieces. The bars are drizzled with chocolate and topped with, of course, more candy. If you have a cookie dough lover in your house, they’ll thank you for these.

Crust Ingredients:
1 cup graham cracker crumbs
3 tablespoons butter, melted

Cookie Dough Ingredients:
3/4 cup butter, room temperature
4 ounces cream cheese, room temperature
1 1/8 cups light brown sugar, packed
1 1/2 cup all-purpose flour
3/4 cup chocolate malted milk powder (I used chocolate Ovaltine)
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 tablespoon vanilla extract
3/4 cup semisweet chocolate chips (I like to use mini chips)
1 cup broken up Whopper candy pieces
about 2 tablespoons water (as needed)

3/4 cup chocolate chips (for decoration)
Whoppers (for decoration)
whipped cream (for serving)

Directions:
Prepare your pan: Preheat your oven to 350°F. Prepare a 9-inch square baking dish with a foil sling. To do this, tear off 4, 16-inch long pieces of aluminum foil and fold them in half. Situate two side-by-side in the pan, covering the bottom of the pan to the edge (they will overlap). Situate the other two strips in the same manner, but perpendicular to the first. The overhanging foil of the sling will make it easy to remove the cake from the pan after baking and cooling. Grease the sling with cooking spray or butter and flour.

Make the crust: Mix the graham cracker crumbs and melted butter with a fork. Use the bottom of a straight glass to press it into the prepared pan. Bake for about 6 minutes and let cool completely.

Make the cookie dough: While the crust cools, in a medium bowl, cream together the softened butter and sugar. Add the cream cheese and whip the mixture until fluffy. Stir in the flour, salt, malted milk powder, vanilla, Whopper pieces, and chocolate chips. Add the water one tablespoon at a time stirring between each, until the dough reaches a consistency just a touch thinner than regular cookie dough (such that it will be thick but spreadable).

When your crust is completely cool, spoon cookie dough in big dollops around it and use an offset spatula to gently level it out into an even layer. Chill this while you prepare your chocolate.

Assemble the bars: Melt chocolate chips according to package instructions in the microwave (usually you heat on half power for a minute and stir, followed by 15 second intervals until the chips are melted, stirring between each heating) and let them cool slightly before pouring the melted chocolate into a plastic zip bag and cutting off the tip of one corner. Drizzle chocolate across the surface of the cookie dough. Press on Whoppers to decorate. Chill to set the chocolate, then use the ends of the foil sling to pull the bars out of the pan and then slice them into squares. Top with whipped cream to serve.

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