My grandmother, Nova Metzger Jacobs, routinely made these cookies at Christmas-time, and I, as a child, routinely ate too many of them. They are called Merveilles (French for "miracle"), and they are insanely-delicious. Watch me make these crisply-puffed, orange-zest-scented, confectioners'-sugar-dusted delights:
But first, let me bore you with this memory snapshot!
Nova, along with my grandfather, Frederick, lived in a rambling 1920s house in Washington State. One closed-off room in the house held an enormous upright piano. As a toddler, I would sneak into that room, and tickle the ivories to my heart's content. This music-making eventually lead to piano lessons with some of the most gifted teachers in the world, including Yvonne Kovacevich in Spokane, and German Diez in New York City.
Of course, the piano is indirectly responsible for my brief career as a punk-rocker. I performed not once, not twice, but seven times at CGBGs in New York. There were other dates at other hip venues as well. Like S.N.A.F.U. in the East Village, and The Other End in the West Village.
I don't think my grandmother would have appreciated my punk rock days, nor my punkish appearance. My hair was spiky. I wore a spider-earring.
But grandmama would be glad to know that my piano-passion continues even to this day, as evidenced by the three grands in my home. Two pianos -- a Steinway and a Yamaha -- are located before a window garden. The plants seem particularly fond of Bach, Mozart, and Chopin. I don't know how they'd feel about punk rock.
And that's all the memoir-writing (dull as it is) that I can manage right now. So let's hit the cookie-trail, okay?
Here's the photographic step-by-step recipe, followed by a printer-friendly, copy-and-paste version:
First, tip some flour, baking powder, and salt into a small bowl...
And whisk to mix.
Next, pour some sugar into a medium-size bowl. More's the pity if your bowl isn't green.
Then grab an orange...
And zest it, baby.
I hope you have a micro-zester. If not, add it to your Christmas list. It is not an expensive gadget.
Add the orange zest to the sugar, and rub them together with your fingers. Inhale deeply! As you rub, the orange zest will emit an intoxicating perfume.
Add some softened butter to the bowl...
And stir it into the sugar mixture with the help of a yellow spatula.
Then open your purse, and retrieve...this stuff.
No brandy in your purse? Retrieve the rum.
No sooner had I mentioned brandy and rum than Mrs. Little People rushed into my kitchen. As I mentioned in a previous post, the woman is a lush.
My grandmother, however, was a teetotaler. She probably substituted orange juice for the booze in her Merveilles.
Tip: Don't be like my grandmother.
Add a healthy splash of brandy or rum...
And a lightly-beaten egg...
And some pure vanilla extract.
Mix this soupy business as well as you can, and then stir in the dry ingredients.
Stir until a soft, sticky dough forms.
Then scoop the dough onto a sheet of plastic film, wrap it up, and chill it for 2 hours or overnight.
No pictures of the following 2 steps: Line a baking sheet with plastic wrap, and generously flour your work surface. My work surface is a piece of canvas.
Cut the dough in half, and return one half to the refrigerator.
Flour the top of the dough, and then roll it out, turning it over and adding more flour to keep it from sticking, until it's paper thin.
Note: I rolled my pastry into a free-form shape. If you'd prefer a neat, 4-inch wide rectangle, go for it.
Use a ravioli cutter, a pastry cutter, or a sharp knife to cut the dough into strips. The strips can be long or short, wide or narrow. I made both long and short ribbons, all of them 1 inch in width.
Place the pieces on the baking sheet, and cover with another piece of plastic wrap. Chill for 1 hour.
No picture here, because I forgot to take one: In a large, heavy pot (or a deep-fat fryer, if you have one), heat 4 inches of oil to 350°F. Don't guess here -- use a candy or deep-frying thermometer to make sure the temperature is correct.
Oh. While the oil is heating, line a baking sheet with a few thicknesses of paper towels.
Lay the Merveilles, 4 or 5 at a time, in the hot fat, and let them cook on both sides until golden brown. You can use chopsticks or a slotted spatula to flip them.
Then transfer the cookies to the paper-towel-lined baking sheet, let them drain for a moment, and then smother both sides with confectioners' sugar.
Enjoy these miracles while they are still slightly warm, and preferably while you are not wearing a black cashmere sweater.
Delicious, delicious, delicious.
Need a copy-and-paste version of the above? Here we go-go:
Merveilles
Adapted from Baking Chez Moi by Dori Greenspan
1 cup (136 grams) all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
3 tablespoons sugar
The grated zest of 1 orange
1 tablespoon unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 large egg, lightly beaten, at room temperature
2 tablespoons brandy or dark rum
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
Confectioners' sugar, for dusting
Flavorless oil for deep-frying
1. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder and salt.
Tip the sugar and orange zest into a medium bowl. Use your fingertips to rub the sugar and zest together until the sugar is moist and fragrant. Add the butter, and blend it into the sugar with a spatula. Add the egg, brandy or rum and vanilla, and stir to blend. Then add the dry ingredients and stir until you achieve a soft, sticky dough.
2. Scoop the dough on a sheet of plastic, wrap it, and chill for 2 hours or overnight.
Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with plastic wrap.
3. Cut the dough in half and return one half to the refrigerator. Sprinkle the top of the dough with flour, and then roll it out, flipping it over frequently and adding more flour to keep it from sticking, until it is paper thin. (You can roll the dough into a neat rectangle, or into a free-form shape.) Use a pastry cutter, a fluted ravioli wheel, or a sharp knife to cut the pastry into strips. I always aim for 1-inch wide strips, about 4 inches long. Roll out and cut the remaining dough into strips. Transfer the strips to the baking sheet, and cover with another piece of plastic wrap. Chill for 1 hour.
Meanwhile, line a baking sheet with several layers of paper towels.
4. In a heavy pot, heat 4 inches of oil to 350°F, as determined by a candy or deep-fry thermometer. Fry 4 or 5 strips at a time just until golden brown on one side. Then flip them over with chopsticks or a slotted spatula, and brown the other side. Transfer the Merveilles to the paper towel-lined baking sheet, let them drain for a minute, and then immediately coat both sides with confectioners' sugar.
Mervilles are best when served on the day you make them. Enjoy them for Christmas...or anytime!
Think you'll try these cookies of my youth? You can let me know by leaving a comment.
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