It started innocently enough, with a languishing bag of chocolate chips. What could be more wholesome than baking a batch for an overworked husband? It was all well and good, of course, until impudence struck and I decided to test the viability of one of my favorite nut flours.

I don’t typically substitute flours in recipes that I bake for Christopher. He can smell a whole wheat crumb from a mile away. While I love spelt and oat and quinoa flours, I wouldn’t deign to bake them into his birthday cake. These cookies were baked for comfort, as a surprise brought up to his office late at night—tempting fate with a bag of hazelnut flour was truly reckless.

Madcap baking is rarely successful, but in this case, I got lucky. These cookies spread from a scant teaspoon-sized ball, into thin, graceful spheres of caramelized lace. They melted in my mouth, crispy and chewy all at once. It felt like eating delicate burnt sugar, with a tough of Nutella throughout; the subtle flavor of hazelnut, the occasional hunk of bittersweet chocolate.

I suggest making these to accompany vanilla ice cream.

Hazelnut Chocolate Chip Cookies

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Have ready two lined cookie sheets.

In a medium sized bowl, mix:

1/2 c hazelnut flour
½ c plus 2 tbsp all purpose flour
½ tsp baking soda

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or with hand mixers and lots of patience) beat:

½ c (1 stick) unsalted butter at room temperature
½ cup sugar
½ cup packed light brown sugar

Add and beat about 5 minutes on medium to medium / high speed:

1 large egg
¼ tsp salt
1 ½ tsp vanilla

When this mixture is very white and fluffed, slowly incorporate flour mixture, stirring just to combine.

Add 1 ½ cup chopped dark chocolate, or 1 ½ c dark chocolate chips.

Place teaspoon-sized, rounded spoonfuls on your baking sheet with ample room between.
(I baked only 6 per sheet.)

Bake for 7-8 minutes.

It came to me sooner than I anticipated, and in an unexpected place—over a cheese omelet the very next morning. Well, actually, it came to me while waiting for my omelet and sipping cinnamon-infused coffee, a tradition that has come to Houston by way of Texas. Since I had planned on baking my brownies with some espresso powder, I was thrilled about the potential for these subtle and complementary flavors.

And then I went a little crazy. I got home and wondered what other warm, sweet ingredients I could put in, hoping to coax out more flavor than a cup of white sugar ever would. And so these were born, imagined at first, and then actualized, into what became one of my all time favorite chocolate concoctions: deep, subtle and earthy, but decadent enough to satisfy even my greedy sweet tooth—I mean really, who needs two batches of brownies on hand? But once I was on the brownie train, a few leftovers were insufficient—a tease, even. The timing was perfect: I picked away the final peppermint crumbs while melting my own dark chocolate in a double boiler.

Happily, I’ve had my fill of brownies, with not a tinge of guilt. These were created, first and foremost, as a birthday gift for a dear pal, a fellow chocolate enthusiast. The wealth was spread around town and led to a serious bout of inspiration: thank you to my co-teacher Mark Wilson (formerly a professional pastry chef Houston’s glamorous hotel Zaza) for suggesting the pairing of whipped cream and blackberries. All along, I’d just been dusting mine with cinnamon and powdered sugar and garnishing with a scoop of Bluebell vanilla. I would never have thought of adding yet another layer of flavor to this unconventional confection, but I’ll be darned, Mr. Wilson is truly an inspired eater.

When the time is right, I’ll try these with some ripe blackberries, although I suspect the whole fruit, cream and chocolate affair would be much enhanced by a bit of berry maceration. I know it sounds like there’s a lot going on here, but truly, the commingling of sweet, warm sugars and spices gives me that soul-warming comfort that few things can.

Honey Cinnamon Brownies

Makes 9 brownies
½ Lb (1 8oz stick) unsalted butter
2 ¼ c semi-sweet chocolate chips
3 eggs
1 ½ T instant espresso granules
1 T vanilla extract
1 c honey
½ c all purpose flour, plus 2 T, set aside
½ T baking powder
1 ½ T ground cinnamon
1 t salt

__

Preheat the oven to 350, grease a 6 x 9  cake pan.

Melt the butter in a double boiler with 1 c of the semi-sweet chocolate chips.

In a small bowl, toss 1 ¼ c chips plus 2 T flour until chips are coated.

When the chocolate and butter have melted, remove from heat and allow to cool.

In a large bowl, gently mix the eggs, espresso granules, vanilla and honey.

Pour melted chocolate mixture into egg mixture and cool further.

In a small bowl, sift together the remaining flour, baking powder, salt and cinnamon.

Add the flour to the chocolate mixture and fold until incorporated.

Add the remaining chocolate chips and fold gently.

Pour batter into pan and bake 20 minutes.

Turn the pan and bake another 15-20 minutes, or until toothpick comes out clean.

Serve with whipped cream, vanilla ice cream and macerated blueberries, or sprinkle with cinnamon and powdered sugar.

Good thing I was too short to wield a spatula and bowl, or to maneuver the heft of a double boiler, because I could have eaten my weight in peanut butter buckeyes. One year, I did. But Aunt Lorraine only made these once—twice, maybe—though a single, lusty occasion stands out prominently in my mind. Mostly because it involves that raw, sugared ache of a kid who has had too many Christmas cookies on the 24th and drifts gleefully to sleep on the couch, knowing that gifts and more cookies wait patiently at the other end of the somnolent tunnel.

For some reason, I was in a decidedly unfoodie phase that year, which may be why the flavors stood out so much. All I had eaten for several days prior were peanut butter and jelly sandwiches. I had to fix them for myself—no fruit lumps, no thick smears of peanut butter allowed. My sandwiches were smooth, not too sticky, with perfectly soft bread. Come to think of it, perhaps this was evidence of a budding gourmande. Certainly, it was my first foray into asserting myself via food and appetite. Suddenly, the grown ups had no say. I could refuse what I wanted, fix what I wanted. My Grandmother did not approve of this 7 year-old self-expression. Though clearly, I was prime for peanut butter buckeye appreciation.

On the snowy afternoon of December 23rd, my Aunt Lorraine and Uncle Mickey unloaded their Buick from Buffalo, full of Styrofoam trunks bearing sausages, tree-shaped butter blocks, cheeses, authentic Pierogi, special varieties of Polish mushrooms and several cookie tins. My “Hellos” were perfunctory. I slinked around, waiting for a peak inside the sugary treasure troves. Finally I saw the buckeyes, peeping up at me, winking with their brown pupils, so perfectly shiny, so perfectly bite-sized. I could practically feel how they would cleave between my teeth. My mouth watered, my lips quivered. I was rabid with desire.

I coveted those buckeyes all day and into the night. They were the only thing that seemed even remotely capable of measuring up to the sweet, savory, rich, chewy flavor of a perfectly smooth PB & J. Could they possibly taste as good as they looked? My belly ached for them—still does.

Christmas Eve rolled around and after much sleeve tugging and pleading I finally found a soft spot in my uncle’s heart and he dropped a little ball into my palm, well before dessert time. I stuck it into my mouth all at once and fled behind the tree to bask in the sensation of melting chocolate and warmed peanut butter. It was almost too good: richer, deeper, stronger than any Reese’s I remembered. I wasn’t sure I could stomach another serving. The doubts proved unfounded.

Needless to say, my grandmother pouted through the entire meal after I refused her mushroom soup, her breaded fish, her pan seared Polish pierogi. I sat politely as plates were passed (at least this is how I remember it) then fled to the kitchen to make my ceremonial sandwich. I had a strategy for climbing up the counter: as long as I was barefoot, my feet were soft enough to grip the knobs so I could hoist myself to the peanut butter and jelly stockpiles. My grandmother complained that I was “finicky,” my mother came to my defense. I remember being vaguely pleased that I could inspire a Christmas spat.

I ate my sandwich at the Christmas table, endowing it with the flavors of a buckeye ball. I had a straight shot at the cookies, which sat on the dessert table at the back of the dining room. I imagined that silky chocolate, almost choking me, sliding down my throat. I imagined the dense, firm texture, the peanut butter ball breaking between my teeth. It was sexual, violent, delicious, all at once. All of my early appetites converged on that single, Cyclops cookie. I had to have it.

I didn’t understand why the women had one—half of one. “Maybe just a bite.” The loss of appetite that took place in adulthood would never happen to me, I vowed, even if I was temporarily fixated on one certain type of sandwich. This is the first year I’ve made buckeyes, and I’m ashamed it took so long: ashamed I haven’t fed that little girl inside, begging for those weighty little balls of happiness, considered little ‘sins’ to the typical, self-restrained grown-up.

This Christmas, let’s forget it. Let’s eat those buckeyes, one by one, in a row. However many we want, until we feel perfectly full, perfectly satisfied, perfectly childish again. Bring on the butter, the peanut butter, the pounds of sugar, the chocolate. I’m a grown up: I want to eat it proudly, front and center, in the middle of our yard, or on our snowy rooftop, shouting, “Buckeyes, I LOVE YOU. You are as good as food can be.” No more sneaking behind the tree to get my fill. Maybe I’ll make a double batch. This reunion has been a long time coming.

Peanut Butter Buckeyes

1 ½ cups smooth peanut butter (one small jar)
1 cup butter, softened
½ teaspoon vanilla
5 cups of confectioner’s sugar
4 cups semi-sweet chocolate chips, melted (you won’t use all of the chocolate, so be sure to have ice cream Sundaes at the ready…)

In a large bowl, mix peanut butter, butter, Vanilla and sugar until well blended. Dough may be slightly crumbly, but go ahead and roll it into 1” sized balls anyhow. It will work, I promise.

Prick a toothpick into each ball and chill in the freezer, on a lined baking sheet, for 30 minutes.

Melt chocolate chips in a double boiler (I use a bowl set over a pot of simmering water)—stir until smooth.

Dip frozen balls into chocolate, turning the ball around in the chocolate, leaving 1 cm. of naked peanut butter.

Return to the cookie sheet and store in the refrigerator until chocolate has hardened and you are ready to serve. After you remove the toothpick, gently smooth the tiny hole with your finger. No one will be the wiser.

So in the next few postings I’ll let you know what cookies I will be leaving out for Santa this year. In my opinion, it wouldn’t be Christmas without them. A few have been improved upon (dare I say?) while others remain untouched family favorites. Chocolate chip cookies will start it off, since they are the single most important cookie where Christmas is concerned.

With these, I deviate from the family origins. A few years ago it would have been unthinkable, but a string of happy accidents has led to the creation of these cookies, which are nearly perfect in my humble opinion. These are just the way I like chocolate chip cookies to turn out: very thin and soft in the center, with crispy edges. They are also chewy, not at all crumbly, dry or thick. They melt in your mouth.

It started with the chips…

While my grandmother was alive, it would have been heresy to suggest anything but the classic yellow bag. It was her favorite and she never deviated from anything that had been engrained in the Christmas cannon. The holiday kitchen was actually a rather militant place during her reign. Simply put, Grandma was an engineer in a house full of ‘creative’ types. No matter how many beans I passed from cup to cup in Montessori school, I could never keep up with Grandma’s numerical mind. “One little taste of the pre-flour batter won’t ruin the recipe,” was the family motto. “Every grain of sugar counts,” was Grandma’s reply.

Once, she slapped my sneaky hand with a spatula. And still, I love Christmas cookies.

The first year Grandma rested in peace there was some small trouble with the chocolate chip cookies: not enough to go around. Our hungry uncle Mick was in town and had already found the cookie tin, which meant that the stockpiles were low, even on the 24th. Grandma wasn’t there that year to guard the cabinets and anarchy seemed upon us.  Praying for a miracle, my sister Lily and I drove to the town grocery store. Miraculously, the door creaked open. For a place that opens at 9 and shuts promptly at 5, this was nothing short of a Christmas Miracle.

As it turns out, it was only the beginning. Next came the absence of that yellow bag. “No yellow bag,” I thought. “There will only be half a Christmas this year kids.” “But there are other bags,” Lily chimed in, just like she would when she was 5 and I was 8. “There will be a Christmas after all.” I can be a terrible cynic. I pouted all the way home and made her drive. Grandma was rolling in her grave, for sure. Looking back though, I   wonder if Grandma actually led us there that fateful day, watching from her Heavenly perch as we discovered the truth about Christmas cookies.

The recipe on the back of the Ghirardelli bag is really, really good. They were gobbled up first, leaving the lumpier Tollhouse variety to late night eaters. The recipe, we were stunned to find, is almost perfect. In fact, I might never have known a better cookie was waiting for me without a recent late-night baking binge. Even though I woke up with a splitting headache and a belly coated in sugar, I just have to thank the universe for letting me get drunk last weekend and discover this next recipe. Don’t worry, I’ve repeated it several times, sober.

It begins a little something like this: The Joy of Cooking, a bar of good, dark chocolate (believe it or not, Hershey’s Special Dark is tremendous) and at least 25 minutes to forget what you are doing. Drinking helps.

I got home from dinner, had a few more glasses of wine with friends around the fire pit and suddenly had a hankering for a warm, just baked Christmas cookie. The best kind. But, there was no bag of Ghirardelli in the house. And my inhibitions were gone. I reached for The Joy of Cooking. It’s never failed me.

There were no chocolate chips either, hence the Hershey’s bar. But trust me, this discovery was a true blessing. Do not delay! Make your next batch with a bar instead of chips. The square, slightly flat and slightly uneven sized chunks will spread evenly in your batter and melt through and through. I like them that way—nothing irks me more than an un-melted chip buried in a heap of crumbly batter. “Forget about it,” Grandma would say.

The next happy accident came after I had mixed the butter, sugar, eggs, vanilla and salt in the Kitchen Aid. Distraction took the form of another glass of wine and an empty chair outside, which I was told ‘had my name on it.’ Sucker that I am, I stumbled out. Nearly a half an hour later I realized that my batter had been beaten to oblivion. I stumbled in. Of course, uninhibited as I was, I poured the flour and baking soda into the mix anyway, even though the batter had a very pearlescent look and feel. The final dough was soft. Softer than usual. It clung to my fingers, pale, shiny and sweet. It took all of my self restraint not to take the bowl to my compadres and finish it off right then and there.

I’m so glad I didn’t, because I discovered the ne plus ultra of chocolate chip cookies. Trust me, these are true gems. I’ve made them three times since, and each time I am wowed by their thinness, their crispness and their chew. One last word before you roll up your sleeves. These cookies like a little encouragement: don’t set them on their Silpat too round and perky. Give them a little press with your palm so they begin to flatten under the heat. That is, if you like your cookies flattened, crispy on the edges, chewy in the middle and generally… perfect.

Chocolate Chip Cookies

Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Have ready two greased or lined cookie sheets.

In a medium sized bowl, mix:

1 c plus 2 tbsp all purpose flour
½ tsp baking soda

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or with hand mixers and lots of patience) beat:

½ c (1 stick) unsalted butter at room temperature
½ cup sugar
½ cup packed light brown sugar

Add and beat about 25 minutes on medium to medium / high speed:

1 large egg
¼ tsp salt
1 ½ tsp vanilla

When this mixture is very white and fluffed, slowly incorporate flour mixture, stirring just to combine.

Add 1 cup chopped dark chocolate, I like one large Hershey’s Special Dark bar.

Place rounded spoonfuls on your baking sheet and press gently down—you can make these cookies as large or as small as you want.

Bake for 7-9 minutes, depending on size.

Here is how to do the Devil' s Food Cake Cockaigne:

BATTER: Have ingredients at room temp., preheat oven to 350. * Cook, stirring in a double broiler over boiling water 4 oz unsweetened chocolate, chopped, ½ c milk, 1 c packed light brown sugar, 1 large egg yolk: remove from heat and let it cool to room temp. * Whisk 2 c sifted cake flour, 1 teaspoon baking soda, ½ teaspoon salt. * Combine in a (separate) small bowl ½ c milk, ¼ c water and 1 teaspoon vanilla. * Beat in a (separate) large bowl at medium-high speed until creamy (about 30 seconds) ½ c (1 stick) unsalted butter. * Gradually add and beat until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes: 1 c sugar. * Beat in 2 large egg yolks, one at a time. * On low speed, add flour to the butter mixture in 3 parts, alternating with the milk mixture in 2 parts, beating until smooth. * Stir in chocolate mixture. * With clean beaters, beat 2 egg whites in a medium bowl at medium speed until stiff but not dry. * Fold lightly into the batter, and pour batter into individual cupcake trays with lining. Bake about 20-25 minutes. (PS: don’t worry if you don’t have a double broiler: make one!)

ICING: Combine in a medium bowl and beat together on medium speed: 4 cups sifted confectioner' s sugar, ½ c unsalted, softened butter. * Add and beat until smooth 4 – 6 tablespoons of milk, 2 teaspoons vanilla and ¼ teaspoon salt. To firm it up, place in the fridge before spreading.

So I made 12 cupcakes. And voila! Half of the batter was left over: perfect for my 8”cake pan. If you’re looking for a very basic and extremely good chocolate cupcake or cake, this batter is incredible. Just make sure you have the capacity for 24 cupcakes or 2 cake pans. (Or half of each.) The recipe is a bit involved, but the end result is worth the effort. I also have to say this: for the first time in my life, I used a Kitchen Aid standing mixer. I know I' ve proclaimed on more than one occasion the authenticity of a recipe made purely by hand. That was only because I never had a standing mixer. I will never go back. This morning I contemplated using it to stir milk into my coffee.

You can use the original recipe from LIVING (I will probably do a TASTE comparison soon myself.)

Or, you can use mine, which goes a little something like this—though please feel free to improvise.

Grease 9 x 13 incher. Pre-heat oven to 350.

2 c smashed chocolate cookies (I used Teddy Grahams)
1 c old fashioned oats
½ c smashed graham crackers
1 ¼ all purp. Folour
¼ tsp salt; and baking powder
2 sticks salted butter
1 c crunchy peanut butter (plus 3 tbsp for drizzle)
¾ c smooth peanut butter
10 oz semi-sweet dark chocolate
4 oz milk chocolate
½ c peanuts, salted, smashed

Mix dry ingredients thoroughly *Melt a stick of butter, and let it cool a bit. Mix 2 eggs in a separate bowl. When butter has cooled enough not to scramble your eggs, mix them together. * Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients and mix thoroughly. * Press into baking dish and bake about 12 minutes. * Melt all peanut butter (save 3 tbsp smooth for drizzle) with 1 stick of butter. * Mix liquid into semi-baked brownies after 12 minutes in the oven. * Melt 10 oz semi-sweet chocolate and pour over mixture. * Cool for at least 45 minutes. * When cool, melt remaining peanut butter and drizzle over brownies * Do the same with the milk chocolate. * Sprinkle with peanuts.* Let cool as long as you can. * Good luck with that *
→ Note: Some of the dark chocolate crust may lift off of the brownies as you cut into them, so be gentle, especially with those in the corners. If you do lose any to crumbling, make yourself a bowl of ice cream and sprinkle your brownie bits on top. No brownie bit left behind.

My only regret is that cupcakes provide significantly less surface area for strawberries. I stuck them on where I could, but didn' t want my precious icing to be pushed too much adrift because too many fruits had been crammed on.

The recipe was remarkably easy and might have been ready in under an hour, had I not opted to chill the frosting a while. Which actually was a wise move, as it provided added traction and control. I' m sort of a klutz, so I need all the help I can get when frosting.

I took the recipe from a favorite food site Joy of Baking, which has nothing to do with the cookbook of a similar name. Stephanie Jaworski took her recipe from Judy Rosenberg’s “All-Butter Fresh Cream Sugar- Packed No-Holds-Barred Baking Book.” I MUST get my greedy little hands on that book.

For the cupcakes:

Melt 4oz unsweetened or very dark chocolate, chopped and 4 oz chopped butter in a saucepan. (Be careful not to let this boil, or even simmer…) * Once the chocolate is melted completely, remove from heat and let cool for a few minutes. * Stir in 1 and 1/4 cup granulated white sugar (unless using sweetened chocolate, in which case use only 1 cup sugar). * Add 1 tsp pure vanilla * Add three eggs, one at a time, mixing well after each addition. * Mix in 3/4 c all purpose flour and 1 tsp. salt until well blended. * Bake at 320 degrees in cupcake holders lined with paper baking cups.

For the frosting (weeee!)

Melt 4 oz unsweetened or dark chocolate and 6 oz butter in a saucepan (if you use the same one as before, you don’t have to wash it first, hoorah! * Remove from heat and stir in 3/4 tsp vanilla extract and 2 tsp light corn syrup. * Whisk in the 1 and 1/3 c powdered sugar, a little at a time. * Don’t get scared, Catherine. At this point, your frosting will be thick. * Add 1/2 c sour cream plus 1 tsp hot water and mix thoroughly until smooth, shiny, creamy–all of that good frosted stuff. Chill it for an hour before spreading onto completely cooled cupcakes. FYI, I made these without an electric mixer or food processor. Good old fork and forearm did the trick just fine.

Garnish with strawberries and deliver.

If you can' t make it to Payard in New York (or Vegas or Rio) you can still come close to Paradise, if you play your cards right. The recipe we chocoholic plebeians have prayed for has finally been published, allowing even the lowly to recreate the divine qualities of French baking. (Celiac and Passover friendly to boot!)

I found the recipe in New York Magazine. My batter looked and tasted exactly as I would have anticipated. When it baked, however, some of the chocolate “dough”meted around the nuts, rendering my cookies significantly flatter than the Payard version I am so deeply in love with.

Nevertheless, they were delightful—chewy and crunchy around the edges, as I prefer my cookies to be. They require very few ingredients, just one fork a big bowl and a nut-chopping block. They are remarkably easy to construct.

Next time I do them, I will probably add more nuts to thicken the cookies a tad. Ironically, copying the great François would mean deviating from his recipe—which makes me wonder if the Payard cookbook is engaging in a conspiracy to keep us civilian bakers frustrated and lowly. But maybe that' s a paranoid suspicion…

Here' s how it went:

Roast 2 ¾ c walnut halves in the oven for 9 minutes at 350 degrees. Let cool, then coarsely chop. * Mix 3 cups of confectioner' s sugar (if you are Kosher, grind your own granulated sugar into confectioners, since the store-bought stuff contains cornstarch to prevent clumps) with 1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons unsweetened Dutch-process cocoa powder and 1/4 tsp salt. When finished, add the chopped walnuts. * Add 4 egg whites and 1 tablespoon of pure vanilla (pre-mixed) in 3 batches to the dry mix. Bake at 320 degrees for about 14 minutes, or until tops are shiny, shifting cookie trays to ensure even baking.

The recipe warned about over-mixing, so I opted out of using an electric apparatus and went with fork and forearm instead. (Initially, I went with a whisk, but the walnuts got stuck inside the wires.)

The recipe also suggested laying 12 cookies on a parchment-lined paper and baking two batches. IGNORE THIS!!! Don' t put more than 9 on a pan—they spread like nobody' s business. In the end, I chose to make my cookies larger with only 4 to a cookie sheet. This makes them extra-delicate, however, so be sure to let them cool completely before tinkering.

Crumble these on vanilla ice cream, and you' ll bypass St. Peter entirely.

There are only two ways to live your life. One is as though nothing is a miracle. The other is as though everything is a miracle. -Al E.

These evolved as the center of a ball of time. My evening of baking was like recreating the Earth in edible layers: at the inner core were the double chocolate chip cookies that were to be the base of a chocolate piecrust, the outer core. Surrounding that, the lower mantle, made of chocolate piecrust and strawberries with orange-zested compote. Around those, the lemon squares–the upper mantle. And atop the upper mantle: none other than coconut shavings and Dutch cocoa powder in the form of macaroons.

Between waiting for the strawberry pie to cool and waiting for the lemon bars to cook, I was once again bored and thumb twiddling. But I had noted a bag of coconut shavings in the pantry slouching next to a can of fancy Dutch cocoa powder. It practically shouted “gebruiken mij”so I decided to make its dreams come true.

I had everything I needed for a batch of chocolate macaroons—except condensed milk. But when would these coconut shavings ever get put to use if I didn' t deal with them myself? It was a glaring opportunity at culinary heroism. I needed to give this coconut a home. So I went around the corner and bought myself some condensed milk and two disposable baking pans.

I' d never made macaroons before, but knew a little something about what they entail. Making them with no recipe would be a great experiment: and if it flopped, I' d reimburse my hostess for the ingredients. If not, I' d have yet another dessert to offer.

I mixed an entire bag of sweet, shaved coconut with a can of sweetened and condensed milk in a big bowl. To that I added ¾ c of cocoa powder and a pinch of salt. I mixed the ingredients thoroughly and rolled them into balls, (which left lots of sweet residue inside the hollows of my palms) placing them on a foil-lined, heavily greased baking sheet.

I cooked them for about 10 minutes, and watched in horror as the baking pan began to fill with chocolate liquid. After another 10 minutes had passed, all that was left were little tufts of coconut rising out of great pools of sweet, coconut and chocolate milk. I left them in the oven for another 20 minutes to see if they might reabsorb the liquid. I was hoping for a miracle.

Once the coconut tops were browned, (which was a subtle change, since they were already deeply infused with chocolate hues) and withstood my poking index finger, I pulled them out and began to remold the pools of milk chocolate into each macaroon. At first, I gathered the liquid with a teaspoon, but once the cookies had cooled a bit, I used my hands instead, pressing the hardening milk crust down into the bottom of each cookie.

A miracle! The bottoms actually held together and the melted crust became a crystallized base that suited the otherwise chewy and somewhat soft desserts. By the time they had finished cooling and hardening, my lemon squares and strawberry pie with chocolate crust were also finished. And though I had intended to make crème fraîche to accompany the pie, a slice of lemon bar and a macaroon were perfectly acceptable garnishes. Big bang in my mouth.