slinging hash: british flapjacks

Until I saw this recipe — ignorant American! — I never knew flapjacks could refer to something other than pancakes. I have since learned that in the British sense, flapjacks are bar cookies. I prefer bar or roll cookies because they are not only easier to prepare, but are often made without leavening, which I find imparts a slight but noticeable chemical flavor.

And yet, as these contain brown sugar and golden syrup, I suspected I would find them too sweet. These objections were overruled because a friend raved about the recipe, from Molly Wizenberg, who I find has a near-unerring palate.

With the possible exception of golden syrup, making flapjacks requires only five ingredients, all pantry staples. Golden syrup, also known as light treacle, has a lovely, true, sweet flavor, and is not impossible to find in American markets. If you are British, or like me, prefer golden syrup to honey (which I'm not wild for; weird, I know), you've got everything you need.

I am glad I did not listen to myself, because these are delicious. Buttery and toothsome, they are like a decadent, sophisticated granola bar, and I would not at all be above serving them for breakfast in a pinch. An undercurrent of burnt sugar adds an appealing bitter edge, and in combination with the salt, keeps the sweetness in check.

What's even more remarkable, I have made them several times, and all my children still like them. With a house full of highly opinionated palates, a cookie that everyone agrees on is a rare thing indeed. Rarer still is that it takes almost no effort.

British Flapjacks  
adapted from Molly Wizenberg's recipe for Bon Appetit


The original recipe calls for quick cooking oats; I prefer old-fashioned, so rather than make a trip to the market, used them. The recipe also calls for a metal pan, and mine is glass. I suspect these changes account for the fact that my flapjacks come out very dense and chewy, as well as the difficulty I had removing them from the pan when cool. I've gotten around this by buttering the pan and lining it with buttered parchment paper, and utilizing my mandible. 


1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, cut into 8 pieces 
1/2 cup (packed) golden brown sugar (I sometimes use dark brown sugar, and like it equally well)
1/4 cup golden syrup

2 1/3 cups quick cooking or old-fashioned oats

Generous pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter 8x8x2-inch metal baking pan. Line with buttered parchment paper.

Combine first 3 ingredients in heavy medium saucepan. Stir constantly over medium-low heat until butter melts, sugar dissolves, and mixture is smooth. Remove from heat. Add oats and salt; stir until coated. Transfer mixture to prepared pan, spread in an even layer, pressing lightly to compact a bit.

 

Bake until top is golden (edges will be darker), about 25 minutes. Cool in pan on rack 5 minutes. Cut into 4 squares; cut each into 4 triangles (mixture will still be soft). Cool completely in pan before serving.

slinging hash: sugar cookies

I don't know anyone who doesn't like a cookie, and were I to run across such a person, I would be highly suspect of their character. Yet, at the risk of contradicting myself, or casting aspersions on my own character, there are a lot of down-home standby cookies which I could take or leave.

I blame it on the leavening. I find the slightly bitter, metallic taste of baking powder and soda compromises my cookie experience. That's why I favor baked goods in the shortbread/brownie vein. But after being deluged with shortbread for months on end, cookie fatigue sets in, my clientele children begin to revolt, and I am forced to come up with something new.

And thus the cycle begins anew.

The last time this happened, I turned to sugar cookies. Because they are, basically, shortbread with an egg yolk, I was not really moving far afield. The addition of the egg makes for a slightly richer, more tender cookie. Like shortbread, sugar cookies are roll, as opposed to drop cookies, which from my perspective as the cook, is neater and more streamlined.

You could accuse me of being selfish or lazy, and you would have a point, but I prefer to think that as a yogi, I'm merely trying to find the middle way for all manner of cookie lovers.

My preferred way of eating sugar cookies is sandwich style, with a layer of raspberry preserves, and so I prepared one batch this way. Sometimes, I really do not understand my children, because, in anticipation of any potential problems, I strained the seeds from the preserves before filling the cookies, yet two out of three still rejected them.

And so they have been happily eating plain sugar cookies for two weeks now. Lest I get too comfortable, as they finished the last batch, Sarah admonished that precisely because she likes sugar cookies, I should stop making them soon, because if she has to eat many more, she is going to be sick of them.

A woman's work is never done.

Sugar Cookies
adapted from Sunday Suppers at Lucques, by Suzanne Goin

Once the cookies are cool, I heat about a half a cup of raspberry preserves in the microwave for about 30 seconds, strain it through a fine mesh sieve, spread on the cookies and top with another round.

1 cup (2 sticks) softened butter
3/4 cup granulated sugar, plus extra for rolling
1 extra-large egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher salt

raspberry preserves, optional

Cream the butter at high speed, preferably in a stand mixer with paddle attachment, about 1 minute.

Add the sugar, beat 3-4 minutes at medium high, until light and fluffy.

Add the egg yolk and vanilla, beat a few more minutes, until light and fluffy. Slowly add the flour and salt, mixing at low speed until dough comes together.

Shape dough into logs about 1-1/2 inches diameter. Roll logs in sugar, wrap in plastic wrap, and refrigerate until firm, at least one hour.

Prior to baking, preheat oven to 350 degrees fahrenheit. Slice logs into 1/4 inch thick rounds and space on baking sheet. I like to sprinkle the tops with a bit of kosher salt.

Bake 10-12 minutes, until lightly browned on bottom. Fill with raspberry jam, or not.