Pecan, Date and White Chocolate Blondies

In 2008 Jessica Seinfeld published her first cookbook, Deceptively Delicious. Born of the frustration of feeding small fussy eaters, she devised a wide variety of recipes addressing all the usual nutritional concerns of parents. Her creations were low in sugar, high in nutrient density and full of vegies and supposedly loved by her kids, her and her famous husband alike. Seemingly the perfect combination. Hers was a not a particularly unique niche except for the big ticket item in her mix and the meaning behind the clever title of the book. Her recipes were not only vegie forward and loaded but the veggies were hidden. And not just a rudimentary disguise but at almost where’s wally, espionage level disguises. Vegetable purees were added to a plethora of dishes not normally noted for their vegetable content and smug parents the world over patted themselves on the back for their ingenuity and trickery. Parents 1, kids 0!

I remember buying the book fascinated by the concept thinking that I too could trick my kids into believing a vegetable loaded brownie really did taste as good as the more traditional style. With budding enthusiasm, I opened that tome convinced I could beat those boys at their own veg resistant game. I was soon deflated. Have you read it? In order to embark on the Santa Claus style deceit, I was going to need to purchase an additional fridge to store the enormous range of fruit and vegetable purees I was going to be required to keep stored to stir through her recipes. I was then going to smile and wave as I handed my kids ‘treats’ containing all sorts of smoothly pulped, pre-cooked potions. Whilst a great concept it honestly sounded more time consuming than the dinner time disputes we were engaging in and frankly I was pre-occupied enough with the parental ruses of Santa, the Easter Bunny and Tooth Fairy.

Aside from the time load I envisaged this method creating, front of mind for me, was the possibility that this would also make my boys unfamiliar with vegetables and therefore even more unlikely to eat them. When you search “hiding vegetables in food” in google the web offers up 9,000,000+ suggestions. As parents, we’re clearly not alone in our pursuit of vegetable love by our kids. It’s one of the many we seem to have aspired to as, enen by parents who perhaps even themselves don’t love veggies. Like sleep and toilet training it’s on the list of things we know as parents we’re meant to tick off. The list of tactics and strategies is long, full and often amusing. Spaghetti Bolognese with handfuls of grated veg, hamburgers or rissoles also loaded with grated veg, multi-coloured smoothies and my personal favourited sausage rolls with, you guessed it, grated veg. Who could even parent without a grater?

I had my own collection of strategies and recipes for fostering a love of veg with varying levels of success, or perhaps I should say ticking that veg quota box. We had ‘rainbow slice’ a collection of grated and diced veg encased in an egg and cheese mixture, also known as zucchini slice, but I wasn’t going to use the Z word. It’s a vague riff on this one, maybe I’ll share it with you soon. I also made ravioli soup, a simple pumpkin soup with kid size veg ravioli, corn and peas. Just between you and I, it was pumpkin soup loaded with pumpkin, carrot, potato and sweet potato for the ‘non pumpkin eaters.’

Like the short list of veg happily consumed here, introducing new fruit could also be a precarious path. But like veg, I had my ploys….or maybe I missed my calling as a quick thinking James Bond type spy. In an ‘adventurous’ moment as a mum I thought I’d try medjool dates with the lads. Reaching into the fruit bowl with curious little fingers and trepidatious eyebrows raised my son picked up one of the wrinkly squishy little blobs and asked what he was holding. I had one of two choices to make, honesty (as if) or another santa clause style fairy tale…. ”Oh, that’s caramel fruit!” I nonchalantly replied. “You know them. They’re the ones I use to make sticky toffee pudding.” It worked, he ate the fruit and I ran off to the pantry to hide while I silently fist pumped a parenting win.

Now, I’m not necessarily advocating the veg puree laced cakes and treats. Frankly they don’t really taste that great, at least not in my experience. I’m not singing the praises of parental deceit either, though a little white lie here and there, in everyone’s best interests won’t really harm. I’m just a mum sharing a little parenting hack or two from the other side. Santa, the Easter Bunny, the Tooth Fairy a box grater and Caramel Fruit.

Are these blondies healthy in the traditional sense? Depending on what philosophy you’re living on, probably not. Do they contain fruit? Well yes. Yes they do. They have caramel fruit.

Ingredients:

220 gm white chocolate chopped

225 gm butter chopped

220 gm brown sugar

120 gm white sugar

1 tsp vanilla (because can you really bake without it?)

4 eggs beaten

220 gm plain flour

¼ tsp baking powder

¼ tsp salt flakes

125 gm pecans chopped

100 gm medjool dates chopped ( toss in a sprinkle of flour to help them separate)

70 gm white chocolate chopped extra

¼ tsp freshly grated nutmeg

Method:

Preheat oven to 160c (140c for fan forced). Grease and line a 19cm x 30cm baking tin, the sort you’d use to make slice/lamingtons/brownie.

In a small saucepan, combine chocolate and butter and melt until just melted and combined, don’t let it cook too long or heat too much, it should be lukewarm. Pour into a large bowl to cool. In a second smaller bowl, combine flour, baking powder, nutmeg and salt.

Once cooled, add eggs, sugar, flour, baking powder, vanilla, nutmeg and salt to the cooled melted butter and chocolate. Gently fold everything together with purposeful but gentle folds ensuring everything’s combined but not overmixed. Sprinkle in pecans, dates and white chocolate, again folding gently with only a few strokes. Pour into the prepared tin and bake 35 minutes or until the edges have pulled away from the tin and look slightly browner and crispy and the centre is just firm, but a skewer comes clean.

Cool completely in tin and cut into squares of your preferred size

Anzac Bicuits

**For the purposes of this story I’ll be using the Australian word “biscuit” for the baked treat I’ll discuss otherwise known outside Australia as cookies**

As autumn descended on the battle-scarred fields of the western front and cold winds began to blow through the trenches signalling an impending third winter in the elements, my grandfather’s war came to an end. Enlisting early in the four years of the great war he served the bulk of his nearly four years of service in France Via Cairo. The failure of the Gallipoli offensive, that he thankfully was spared from deployment in, saw his battalion broken up, reformed and moved to the emerging theatre of the French western front. By the time his service concluded, he’d spent 22 months in the often muddied, overcrowded and stench ridden trenches of the Somme with only three days of R&R. He’d served in other theatres of war in Franco offensives with a couple of periods of convalescence from injury and ill health spent in Britain, his birthplace, but the greatest period of his time away was served in the relentless conflict of area famously referred to as The Somme.

He was a gentle man, loyal to a fault, softly spoken, kind and endlessly patient. He was never boastful and rarely spoke of his time in the army. Signing up was a rite of passage at the time, service in the great war seen as a young man’s adventure. Something hard for us to imagine through a modern lens of instant information and 24 hour news cycles where live images of war are streamed globally, but an adventure it was to the young men of the early 20th century. It was the first war of modern times to traverse years, not months or weeks. It was a relentless conflict who’s breadth seems unimaginable by today’s standards and one that changed the lives of many.

Papa’s time at war came to an end three weeks before the signing of the armistice that brought the fighting to an ultimate end. Three weeks before quiet descended on the devastated landscape of the French countryside, when young men looked to each other in shock and awe that what had probably felt never ending was suddenly over. When adrenaline ebbed away in floods and exhaustion took it’s place. Perhaps shock and quiet descended on their souls too before the joy of a return home bloomed, a sense of doubt that it could possibly have come to an end.

As children we saw our Papa as a hero and somewhat of ‘celebrity’ of sorts having fought in the First World War. But his personal reflection of his time away was anything but that, indeed he never spoke of it, deflecting anyone’s interest with comments like war is nothing to celebrate or look back on. This was the way he lived his life for all 66 years of the life he lived after the war. Except for two days each year in which he allowed himself some reflection. One of those days, his annual battalion reunion, when together, servicemen gathered at the tree planted in their honour at the Avenue of Honour in the forecourt or our Shrine of remembrance. And the other day, our national day of remembrance and honour ANZAC Day, when ex-servicemen from the joint Australia and New Zealand forces reflect on the many conflicts they’ve contributed to, a day born out of that first modern conflict. It’s a day deeply ingrained into my soul and the DNA of Australians. It’s written on our culture and history and is the one way we hold dear, in perpetuity the service of those who went before us to build the freedom we enjoy today.

One of the many ways our military history has instructed our culture is, as always, through food. The ANZAC biscuit was one sent by those left behind in care packages to the troops as small acts of love and nurturing from home. The first love language perhaps. The original recipe is a little different from the one we’ve come to know and love. Oats and coconut were not in the iteration of the Anzac, perhaps a reflection of the lack of provisions and a nod to the innovation of home cooks. In the years after the war as prosperity returned oats were introduced to the recipe followed by coconut. The bones of the recipe though remained, butter and golden syrup, golden caramel flavours of comfort. A formula that survived the long journey across the oceans to the battle fronts and the tyranny of time to today, still forming the foundation of the iconic bake we know and love.

My Grandfather never shared his very personal story of the conclusion of his service, ironically only weeks before the end of the war itself. It’s one that emerged through research since his passing. It’s a deeply personal story that would resonate with servicemen through the ages and one I wish I’d known when he was still with us. I wish he’d been alive to see what we know today of the effects of war on our service people and know that his service is as respected and honoured as every comrade he served with. It’s his story and not mine to tell, one that always brings a tear to my eye.

But next Tuesday on ANZAC Day after watching the march on TV I’ll have a cuppa and a couple of ANZAC bickies and reflect with pride on his treasured legacy.

My version of the iconic Anzac Biscuit is inspired by a well-thumbed Australian Women’s Cookbook purchased for me when I was a child. It’s the seed of the one I baked for him growing up and have baked for my own children as they grew up and enjoyed the many storied our my wonderful Papa.

Ingredients:

1 C (100 gm) rolled oats

1 C (150 gm) plain flour

1 C brown sugar (200 gm)

½ C (50 gm) desiccated coconut

½ tsp salt flakes

1 tsp vanilla paste/extract

150 gm butter

2 Tb golden syrup

1 Tb water

½ tsp Bicarb soda

Method:

Preheat oven to 150c. Line two baking sheets with baking paper.

In a large bowl combine oats, flour, sugar, coconut and salt, whisking well to combine thoroughly and break up any lumps. Set aside.

In a small pan, over med-high heat, melt butter pushing it to just browned (you can pop over here to see a short link on how to do that if browned butter is new to you). Remove from heat and quickly whisk through syrup and water. Return to a low heat and sprinkle soda into butter mixture. It will foam quickly, remove from heat immediately and pour over dry ingredients. With a light but efficient hand mix ingredients until thoroughly combined. Roll into small bowls the size of walnuts. Space out on the two trays and cook 20 minutes.

Allow to cool five minutes on the trays before moving to a rack to cool completely.

White Chocolate and Vanilla Cookies

As you cross the freeway from one side of the verdant hills of Gippsland to the other the landscape opens up. The road becomes a little rough reminding you that you’re on that ‘road less travelled,’ pot holes and bumps slow you down, the road narrows and the hum of commuter traffic recedes. Fields stretch out left and right, dairy and beef farms, wineries and small hamlets dot the landscape as you climb in to the hills and towards one of the area’s loveliest bush walking destinations.

We’d set off in this direction a second day in a row having checked out a winery in the area the previous day. Visiting dear friends who’ve embarked on their own tree change we were keen to get out again, explore the area and stretch the legs. My husband suggested this jaunt, one, taking us up into the gentle rolling hills of Bunyip State Park. Through winding roads lined with eucalypts and ferns the route ascends the park’s eastern trail with views sweeping out across to the west horizon. The route is shaded by the canopy of towering mountain ash and fringed with stunning emerald green fern forming home to a diverse range of small wildlife. You quite literally feel yourself breathe out reaching to let the car window down a little taking in the birdsong and cool forest air as you drive the sweeping bends. After a small disagreement with google maps we found our destination, setting off, the Mr, myself, our friends and their three adult daughters found the small opening in the roadside growth and began our walk. Lush rain forest greeted us only a few steps in, the music of waters gently meandering the bordering streams, our soundtrack. We naturally break into two groups, the young and fit up front and those preferring to take in the scenery at a gentler pace, shall we say, bringing up the rear. Fallen leaves form a carpet for our footfall and release an earthy fragrance with each step up the slope of the trail. Moist earth creates a home for fungus and cools the air as we walk, talking, solving the problems of the world and also just taking in the forest calm…whilst inhaling the fresh mountain air….or puffing and panting labouring up the hill side climb….whichever way you want to look at it. Sometimes the forest is silent but as the path twist and turns forward the whooshing of bubbling waters encourages us onwards, the occasional sound of a distant car reminding us we’re not too far from civilisation. Before too long the sounds of gushing water grow nearer and the happy voices of the forward party rejoicing at reaching our destination become louder as we approach, edging us to our destination. We’re rewarded with the stunning view of waters cascading over boulders, a soft mist moistening our faces and a breeze coming off the rushing torrent. After stopping a while taking in the view we start the trek back. Taking the view from the reverse perspective always shows a landscape in a different light. I stop to take more photos having already shot many along the walk in. The walk back a seemingly easier one, a trek that feels like it’s all downhill, in the best possible way.

Or maybe the walk back to the car and picnic ground was easier, with the knowledge that a morning tea picnic awaited. Whilst beautiful, our walk did get the legs working, filling our lungs with fresh forest air and working up a bit of an appetite and one deserving of the cake and bickies I’d baked the day before. Thinking about those treats on the walk back, hungry, I started imagining some other ideas for baked goods I could try. Remembering a can of condensed milk in the pantry at home I considered a slice perhaps, but then wondered if you could make cookies with it.

We gobbled up the goodies I had made but over the next couple days, many baking trays and a few large jars full of variations on the theme I’ve come up with the quickest, yummiest vanilla white chocolate cookie I’ve ever made. One you can throw together in a hurry when an impromptu country drive and bushwalk beckons.

Ingredients:

150 gm of soft butter

½ C sweetened condensed milk

¼ C brown sugar firmly packed

1 tsp vanilla paste/extract

2 tsp miso paste

300 gm SR flour

150 gm white chocolate chopped

Method:

Preheat oven to 160c (fan forced). Line two large baking trays with baking paper and set aside.

In a stand mixer or large bowl using electric hand beaters, combine butter, milk, sugar, vanilla, and miso. Mix on low until everything has just come together then increase speed to med-high and beat until light and fluffy. Stop beaters, add flour and mix on low speed until just combined. Add chopped chocolate and continue folding together with a wooden spoon until completely combined.

Roll into walnut size balls spaced on the trays to allow space for a little spread. Pop in the preheated oven and bake for 12-14 minutes. Remove from oven and allow to cool for a few mins before laying out on a wire rack to cool completely, though quality control tasting while still warm is always ‘essential.’

Makes 40 small cookies

Notes:

*For a different flavour you can add peanut butter in place of the miso.

*Soft butter? Let’s face it, most of us don’t plan for butter creaming and whipping indeed the call to bake something yummy usually comes out of the blue. If you’re like me and not an organised baker you can slice up the cold butter, pop it on a small plate and warm it in the microwave on 10 second bursts, checking after each 10 seconds to make sure you don’t overdo it and melt the butter. But hey if you do, keep going until you brown that butter and make this instead.

Double Chocolate, Peanut & Miso Cookies

Ensconced on the couch, head on a mound of soft cushions, fluffy mohair blanket gathered around me I assumed my position for the days that lay before me as I moved through my turn at the dreaded virus. I’d chosen a Netflix series to begin my week of iso, which as the last one to fall in our house didn’t see me confined to my bedroom. Thankfully winter sun streamed through the windows it’s winter arc through the sky bathing my position in it’s warmth. I’d considered myself extremely lucky to have made it this far without infection indeed the whole family only endured the dreaded lurgy this year. We felt like the unicorn family, having escaped infection and exposure what felt like a million times. We were almost smug really, revelling in the health we’d enjoyed not only avoiding covid but all the annual winter bugs that normally prevail. But then the hammer fell and like a domino trail in slow motion one by one we dropped. First the 19 year old, then the husband, then simultaneously me and the 22 year old, who didn’t even know he was infected. From my spot on the couch my view towards the tv was interrupted by a pile of books that had grown recently with the balance of books read and acquisition of said books being somewhat out of balance. Normally the prospect of a week stuck on a couch with such a stack staring at me coaxing me to choose would be my idea of heaven but covid brain is real my friends. Concentration was sadly lacking so I turned to my streaming selection and started watching. Though concentration and energy was absent my appetite was not. Distracting me from my viewing was a jar of chocolate coated peanuts, a jar I’d been nagging my son to put away. Reaching for it and dipping my hand in the jar for a little snack. Not normally a flavour combo I would seek out or a treat I would yearn for the little crunchy chocolate nuggets hit the spot. As you can imagine the contents of that jar slowly dwindled over the following days as did my son’s patience with my indulgence of his chockies. His consternation sparked an idea. I’d been contemplating a chocolate biscuit idea for a while but hadn’t had a chance to experiment too much.

My nibbles of my son’s chocolate coated peanuts reminded me how delicious the two flavours are together combined with my new obsession with miso an idea was born, that after a few iterations, has resulted in these delicious cookies. Crisp on the outside, fudgy in the middle, almost reminiscent of a brownie and encasing chunks of dark chocolate and crunchy roasted peanut. They’re a little bigger than a chocolate coated peanut of course but in my humble opinion a whole lot tastier and even more hard to resist.

Ingredients:

160 gm unsalted butter softened

75 gm brown sugar

165 gm white sugar

2 tb white miso paste

1 tsp vanilla paste/extract

1 egg beaten

175 gm plain flour

¼ tsp salt flakes

30 gm dutch process cocoa

1 tsp baking powder

100 gm chopped dark chocolate

110 gm roasted unsalted peanuts

Method:

Preheat oven 180 c and line two cookie sheet trays with baking paper.

Combine the flour, cocoa and baking powder in a bowl, whisk to combine thoroughly and aerate, set aside.

In a stand mixer cream butter and sugar until lighter in colour and fluffy. Add vanilla, miso paste and egg mixing again until well combined, scraping down the sides during the process to ensure it’s all mixed.

Sprinkle in the dry ingredients and mix on low speed until just combine. Remove and fold in peanuts and choc chunks with a wooden spoon. This will take a little effort as it will be quite stiff. Place bowl in the fridge for 15-20 minutes to firm up while you tidy up. If your kitchen is particularly warm you may like to refrigerate for 30 minutes. This step helps control the cookie’s spread when they hit the oven.

Working quickly roll into golf ball size portions allowing room on the trays for them to spread during cooking.

Place in the oven for ten minutes. Remove at the end of cooking and allow to cool for five minutes on the trays before transferring to cooling racks to completely cool.