Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

Lethargic, listless, lackadaisical. I've been utterly lazy the last week and half. At first, it was because I was jet-lagged, blaming time differences and long flights on my reason for not getting up from the couch. However, after the fatigue wore off, so did my excuses. I began setting my alarm to get up for the gym—an honest attempt to drag myself back into a normal schedule. Waking up to the loud beeping with cloudy skies overhead, I found myself hitting the snooze button and turning over for another hour's rest.

Not today, I'd tell myself. Maybe tomorrow...

Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

One day turned into two. Then three, then four. After rolling out of bed, I'd eat breakfast before situating myself in front of the television to watch hours of sitcoms and Lifetime movies. I made up excuses to convince myself I didn't need to leave the house. Overdue library books sat by the front door, accumulating small, but bothersome ten cent charges each day that passed. I wasn't sad or depressed, sick or under the weather. I was simply and inexcusably lazy.

I don't really need to go to the gym, I'd tell myself while eating through a bag of potato chips. I'll bake something tomorrow, I'd assure myself, scrolling through more recipes on Pinterest. Laziness was a luxury, wasn't it?

But, as the days turned into a week, I wasn't so sure of that anymore.

Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

Abraham Miller once said that he who knows how to loaf is wiser than three sages. I have the feeling, however, he wasn't talking about me. With all the reality television I was watching, I couldn't hope to be as wise as one sage, much less three. Laziness was no longer a luxury. It was becoming a chore (and no one likes chores).

Exactly 10 days after my lazy streak started, it abruptly ended. I pulled myself together. I went to the gym. I cuddled back up to my Kitchenaid mixer and made sweet, sweet desserts. I returned the library books back to their rightful home. Though laziness does have a time and place (and I will look back upon mine fondly), sometimes enough is enough.

The real world comes calling and we all must get up off the couch.

Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies

These Peanut Butter Cornmeal Cookies are the product of curious thinking and experimentation. Gluten and dairy free, the cookies are made with crunchy peanut butter and rolled in sugar for sweetness. The cornmeal adds a little extra texture to these cookies, without a distinguishable taste. Though the cornmeal can give the cookies a drier texture, it isn't anything a glass of milk can't cure.

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Ladyfingers

Ladyfingers

Ladyfingers

Ladyfingers. I've always thought this was an odd name for a cookie. If I let my imagination run free, I can see the resemblance (well, maybe). If I had it my way, however, I wouldn't equate delicate desserts with eating a woman's digits. Even so, depending on the part of the world you live in, these little cookies go by other names, such as sponge, savoy, savoiardi, and, my personal favorite, boudoir cookies.

Though the cookie has many names, the result is always the same.

Ladyfingers Ladyfingers

Ladyfingers are an old cookie, born out of the traditions of the eleventh century. The fact that this little cookie stood the test of time for nine hundred years earns my deepest respect. Despite the long history, the cookie has evolved very little in that time. In the fifteenth century, ladyfingers were often given as gifts to the visitors of France. Rumor has it that when Czar Peter the Great of Russia and his wife Catherine came to visit, Catherine fell so hard for these cookies that she bought the baker and sent him back to her home in Russia.

It makes me wonder just how many ladyfingers that poor baker must have made (and how many Catherine must have eaten).

Ladyfingers Ladyfingers

I do have a word to the wise to share if you want to bake these cookies. The batter is easy and straightforward to make, but the dough can be a bit persnickety, especially when it comes to temperature. If the room is hot and humid, the lady fingers have a tendency to spread out on the baking sheet, turning the look of the delicate ladyfingers into those from a large man's hand. I may speak from experience.

While still delicious, the look is a little less than desirable.

However, the problem is an easy one to avoid. Chilling the baking sheet before piping will prevent the ladyfingers from spreading due to the warmth of a summer day (or the heat from the oven).

Ladyfingers

Ladyfingers are light and airy, just as a sponge cake, with a weight that is light as a feather. Fresh from the oven, the lightly sweetened cookies are soft and the bottoms are just ever so crisp. Ladyfingers are individually lovely, but they taste just as well with a side of fresh fruit or a dollop of whipped cream. Incredibly absorbent, ladyfingers are also used in more complex desserts, such as tiramisu or trifles.

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Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pies

Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pies

Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pie

The history of the whoopie pie is surprisingly sordid, full of drama and general confusion. With an unusual name like whoopie pie, it seems destined to have an interesting story behind it. Whoopie pies are essentially two soft chocolate cookies sandwiched together with a sweet filling. Interestingly, whoopie pies were originally known as "gobs," a name I find both humorous and nondescript (Hey, do you want a gob?). I have no trouble understanding why the name was changed somewhere along the way.

Nevertheless, the true controversy begins with the origin. Depending on which source you choose to believe, a very different tale will be spun. Everybody wants a piece of the (whoopie) pie.

Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pie Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pie

First, we'll hear out the food historian. In medieval Germany, long before electricity and marshmallow fluff, they were making cake-like pastries with filling over roaring fires—the ancestors to the whoopie pie. This pastry was passed down over generations, eventually reaching the United States and finding a home with the Pennsylvania Amish. The Amish women, in turn, would make these pies as a treat for their husbands and children. Legend has it, when they would spot these chocolate pies packed neatly in their lunch pails, they would let out a whooopie! with a shout.

Thus, the whoopie pie was born.

Maine also claims ownership over the pie, claiming it was invented within their state lines. Rumor has it that a woman working in a bakery in the 1920s ended up with extra batter after whipping up some cakes. Instead of tossing it out, she scooped spoonfuls of the batter onto a baking tray and popped them into the oven. When they were done, she stuck the small cakes together with leftover frosting and created the first ever whoopie pie. While there is little to no evidence to this tale (the proof was inconveniently burned in a bakery fire), it didn't sway Maine's steadfast belief, especially when they legally made it the state treat.

Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pie

Boston also claims ties to the whoopie pie, but their evidence is even less substantial than Maine's or Pennsylvania's. Boston claimed the first whoopie pie recipe appeared in a cookbook created by one of their own bakeries in the 1930s. It didn't. Though the same bakery went out of business in the 1970s, the name of the bakery was painted long ago on the side of the building and still remains, though faded. If you ask the right people, they'll wistfully recall there was another sign painted below that read "Whoopee!" Pies—proof of whoopie pie's rightful heritage.

Whether you choose to believe the food historians in Pennsylvania, the governmental body of Maine, or the nostalgic patrons of long gone bakery in Boston, the real heritage of the whoopie pie doesn't really matter in the long run. The important part is that the whoopie pie is here to stay.

Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pie

These Chocolate Marshmallow Whoopie Pies are soft, sweet, and filled with a hidden history. Two soft chocolate cake-like cookies are sandwiched together with a marshmallow creme. Since I don't believe in the one purpose whoopie pie pans, these can be easily made on a standard baking sheet. Whoopie pies are very similar to a soft Oreo cookie (and are equally at home with a glass of milk). Give these a try, if only to taste the hints of its sordid and surprisingly complicated past.

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