Favorite Southern Christmas cookies

“Oh Buddy, I think it’s fruitcake weather,” goes the opening line to one of the best short stories ever written (and certainly a sentimental Southern favorite), “A Christmas Memory” by Truman Capote. Capote based the story on his own memories with his elderly cousin Sook, his eccentric best friend, who baked fruitcakes each Christmas and sent them to acquaintances and people they admired, including Mr. and Mrs. Roosevelt at the White House.

These days, the idea of fruitcake is as stale a joke as some of the cakes that remain on the bottom shelf of the Frigidaire from last Christmas. The main appeal of fruitcake for me is the candied cherries, the red and green chewy bits of sugary former fruit. Although a candied cherry is as similar to a real cherry as plastic-encased American cheese is to aged Manchego, they still hold a visual and sentimental appeal.

Fruitcake is not a tradition in my home, although my mom makes stellar "fruitcake cookies." (That recipe is hers and I hope to share it soon). I buy the candied cherries, however, to top Mom’s sandy, crispy, buttery shortbread. Shortbread is the easiest, most elemental cookie – butter, confectioner’s sugar, flour, salt and vanilla. When I wake up in early December and say “it’s cookie baking time,” I always start with a tray of shortbread. Like Sook and Buddy's fruitcake, it’s a tradition, and it’s simple – I already have butter, sugar and flour out and the oven’s pre-heating.

Scottish Shortbread

1 cup unsalted butter, slightly softened

½ cup powder sugar (10X)

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

¼ teaspoon salt

1 teaspoon vanilla

Candied cherries or pecan halves for garnish, if desired

1. Preheat oven to 325. In a mixer, cream butter and sugar, then add flour gradually. Add salt and vanilla.

2. Line a rimmed baking sheet with a Silpat or parchment paper. Using a rolling pin, gently roll out the dough to 1/4 –inch thick, in a rough rectangle. Using a sharp knife, cut into 1-inch square pieces. Press cherry or pecan halves onto each square.

3. Bake at 325 for 20 minutes or until golden brown. Remove from oven and let cool. The cuts will have melded back together, but quick work with a sharp knife will take care of that. Store in an airtight container at room temperature.

There are traditions to keep and traditions to make your own, like pecan tassies. This is a Southern sweet - tassie is a Scots variation of “cup” and a pecan tassie is a small cup of pecan pie filling, a tasty two-biter, rich and sweet. I make tassies each December with Georgia pecans, and they occupy a coveted corner on my cookie plates, but this year, I decided to part with tradition and use macadamias. You know the part of “Christmas Memory” where the fruitcakes are done and Sook gives Buddy and Queenie (the dog) some of Mr. Haha Jones’ whiskey and they dance in the kitchen and feel the Christmas spirit? Well, if I’ve learned anything this year, it’s to take the recipe as a suggestion, drink the whiskey and dance in the kitchen.

Macadamia-Rum Tassies


If you can’t get past the idea of messing with traditional Pecan Tassies, just sub pecans for the macadamias and vanilla for the rum (and tell your friends the recipe came from your cousin Sook.)

Pastry

1 3-oz package cream cheese

½ cup unsalted butter

1 cup unbleached all-purpose flour

Filling

1 egg

¾ cup packed dark brown sugar

1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted

1 teaspoon rum

2/3 cup chopped macadamia nuts

1. Combine cream cheese, butter and flour in mixing bowl. Form into a ball, wrap in plastic wrap and chill in refrigerator for one hour. After one hour, remove from refrigerator and shape into 22 balls. As much as I want this recipe to make 24, I’ve never managed to get the dough to stretch that far. Press each ball into a cup of a mini-muffin pan.

2. Preheat oven to 325. For filling, beat egg with brown sugar, add melted butter, rum and macadamias. Pour into shells, just a spoonful in each because they puff when they bake. Bake at 325 for 25 minutes. Remove from oven and let cool. Store in a covered container at room temperature.

Text & images copyright 2010, Lucy Mercer.
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Roasted, spicy almonds...just in case

Around the holidays, I like to have a few things on hand that I can set out when folks drop by, which, admittedly, doesn't happen all that often. But what does happen pretty often is that I'll be running late starting supper and will need to set out a snack of some sort to keep the hungry hordes at bay. Things like carrots and ranch dressing, or maybe cheese and crackers are year-round players. In the late fall, I buy bags of raw almonds or walnuts or pecans and make spicy roasted nuts to set out on the counter. (Cheese wafers are another standby - look for that recipe soon.)

I make these nuts in my wok skillet, which is roomy and just right for glazing bunches of almonds. This recipe can be used with walnuts or pecans, too.

Roasted Spicy Almonds with Rum Glaze

The spice mix is variable according to your taste. If you only have cinnamon, that will work. If you're out of rum extract or rum, just increase the vanilla.

2 cups raw almonds

2 tablespoons brown sugar

3/4 teaspoon kosher salt

1/2 teaspoon cinnamon

1/8 teaspoon allspice

1 tablespoon rum or rum extract

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 teaspoon brown sugar

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

1. Heat oven to 350 degrees and prepare a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. Spread almonds on baking sheet and toast for about five minutes, jiggling the pan midway through to ensure even toastiness.

2. While nuts are in the oven, stir together two tablespoons brown sugar, salt, cinnamon and allspice in a medium bowl.

3. Put wok pan over medium heat and melt butter. Add vanilla and rum and 1 teaspoon brown sugar. Remove nuts from oven and pour into wok. Stir until glossy and warm, about five minutes. Pour glazed nuts into spice mix; toss, then spread on parchment-lined cookie sheet to cool.

Marcus Samuelsson's lesson on rum and mango mojitos



Marcus Samuelsson's mango mojito by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books


On my wrist, I wear a golden reminder of the brutal past of slavery in the Caribbean. It’s a charm of a sugar mill, a common sight in St. Croix, now in the U.S. Virgin Islands, where the charm was crafted by Brian Bishop, an artisan creating jewelry in Christiansted. Bishop makes the mills accurate as they exist today - mostly abandoned, metal parts rusted or gone entirely, with trees growing through the doorless entries.

Crucian Gold charm bracelet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

The sugar mills are from the time when the Virgin Islands were a stop on the slave trade, the Triangle Trade as it was known. The Dutch who settled the islands in the 17th century enslaved Africans who were brought to the islands to plant and process the sugar. The sugar, usually in the form of molasses or sugar cane juice, was then taken to the American colonies, usually Boston, to be distilled into rum. The rum, in turn was loaded onto ships and sent to Africa were it was traded for more slaves. The Triangle trade - molasses, rum, humans, molasses, rum, humans.

When contemplating rum, as with many foods, the modern interpretation is vastly different from the historical truth. Rum today is the essence of the tourist-dependent Caribbean - a fruity, umbrella’d cocktail on a sun-bleached beach beside the deep blue sea. A good book, a comfy chair, a cooling drink, and hours spent trying to find the horizon, the place where cerulean sky and azure sea meet. Rum, with its sharp acetone fragrance, is made for fruit, especially the tropical bounty of the Caribbean - pineapple, mango and coconut distract you from the kick.

I suppose I could open up a copy of Mr. Boston's to come up with a recipe to spotlight rum, but in this case, I decided to consult a master, Top Chef Masters Season Two winner, celebrity chef and all-around nice guy Marcus Samuelsson.



Marcus Samuelsson by Pedro Soto/Foodie Atlanta


That’s right, cutie pie competitor Marcus Samuelsson, he of the engaging grin and fierce competitive streak, not to mention spiffy candy-apple red Chuck Taylors, showcased on the most recent season of the reality show that pits seasoned chefs mano a mano in food challenges. Samuelsson bested a field of 16 big-name chefs, coming out on top with a three course meal that described his culinary journey across three continents.

When I asked Marcus about rum drinks, he said immediately, “Well, do you know about rum and Barbados and the slave trade?” Samuelsson has a duality that’s apparent once you know his intriguing biography - born Kassaham Tsegie in Ethiopia 39 years ago, he lost his mother at age 3 in a tuberculosis outbreak, was then adopted by parents in Sweden, his identity changed with one airplane flight - he became Marcus Samuelsson. He found his art at his Swedish grandmother’s apron strings while learning to cook meatballs with lingonberry sauce and other comfort foods, then went on to apprentice at fine European restaurants and eventually emigrated to this country 20 years ago.

What a curious gift to see in a bottle of rum the duality of your ancestry, biological and adopted - the enslaved and the enslaver. To identify with the Africans who were forcefully taken from their homes and families to work in harsh conditions half a world away, and at the same time the Europeans who traded humans for molasses and rum. I want someday to ask Marcus more about this, but today he just had time for a recipe - dark rum (he insisted it must be dark rum), infused with mango, muddled with mint, strained and poured over ice. I'm not one to argue with the chef, especially the one who beat Susur Lee for the Top Chef Master title. (And the drink is delicious.)

Marcus Samuelsson's Mango Mojito by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Marcus’ Mango Mojito

In a large measuring bowl, place three cups of cubed mango from about 3 or 4 fruits. Fill to 4 cup mark with dark rum (I used Cruzan Rum). Chill overnight or for several days - (due to deadlines, I haven’t tested this recipe beyond the two-day mark). When ready to serve, pull out your favorite highball glass, muddle some mint leaves in the bottom, fill with ice, strain infused mango rum over all, and garnish with mint.

In Marcus‘ trademark “why do, when you can overdo” spirit (after all, his fried chicken recipe takes three days, my friends, three days to reproduce to his exacting standards), I created a Caribbean mango sorbet using the flavors of his prescribed drink. I kept it kid-friendly, using rum extract, but there’s no reason that if you’re feeding grown-ups, you couldn’t use rum-infused mango chunks from the above drink, folding them into the sorbet while it is still soft.

Mango and lime sorbet by Lucy Mercer/A Cook and Her Books

Sugar Mill Mango Mint Mojito Sorbet

We call the pit the “mango bone” in our house, it’s a favorite treat of my youngest daughter. When you cut up the fruit, save the mango bones and simmer them in the syrup to intensify the mango flavor. You will need an ice cream mixer for this recipe - I use a Krups with a freezable container.

1 cup sugar

1 cup water

3 to 4 mangoes to yield 2 cups cut fruit, saving the mango bones

2 teaspoons lime juice from ½ lime

3 or 4 mint leaves, chopped

1 teaspoon rum extract

1. In a saucepan over moderate heat, place sugar, water and mango bones. Let come to a boil and cook, stirring occasionally until sugar is dissolved. Remove from heat, add lime juice, mint leaves and rum extract and let cool. After at least 15 minutes, strain through a sieve and pour in container of ice cream machine. Follow manufacturer's instructions from here. Store leftovers, those precious leftovers, in the freezer. Trust me, they won't last long.

Text and Images © 2010, Lucy Mercer, with the exception of the picture of Marcus Samuelsson, which is provided by Pedro Soto of Foodie Atlanta.

Check out Brian Bishop’s spectacular jewelry at Crucian Gold.

If you visit St. Croix today, be sure to spend a morning at the restored working sugar plantation, the Whim Great House, complete with a working windmill/sugar mill.

Marcus Samuelsson and Lucy Mercer by Susan Loper.

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