I have done this for many days, in many forms. I’m addicted to the zip zing of crystalized ginger, the crunch of a toasted nut, and the richness of oats crisped up in almond butter. I eat it with almond milk, with yogurt, sometimes sprinkled over oatmeal…or over ice cream. I ate it while flipping note cards and textbook pages, and now I eat it over the paper, or in a Ball Jar with milk in my cubicle at the DA’s office. I am always careful to put on my suit coat after I take the last spoonful, so that there’s no dribble of milk on my buttons. And then, I head up to Court 10 for the fugitive docket.

Can you imagine a better way of reminding yourself… “Hey! Life could be worse?” Sometimes I shudder at the memory of eating breakfast while trying to understand the Rule Against Perpetuities. But then I remind myself…there could be a warrant out for me somewhere.

But seriously, this stuff is so good, it should be criminal.

Almond Ginger Granola

2 c oats

1 c canola oil

1/2 c honey

1 c almond butter

1/2 c almond slivers, toasted

1/2 c dried cranberries (optional)

1/3 c crystalized ginger, chopped

2 t cinnamon (optional)

1 t salt (& more to taste)

___

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Combine honey, oil and almond milk in a small sauce pan on very low heat.

Stir constantly until mixture is just warm enough to be thinned out.

Pour almond butter mixture over oats, add salt and cinnamon and stir until combined.

Bake 10 minutes, then rotate pan and stir oats.

Bake 5 more minutes, and if mixture looks golden, add nuts. (If not, bake a bit more.)

Toss and bake a final 5 minutes.

Stir in ginger and cranberries and cool: do not transfer to a jar or container until mixture is cool, or granola will get soggy.

Store in a Ball Jar for up to 2 weeks.

This soup is nothing to mess with. It is loaded with vitamins, antioxidants, immune-enhancers and most importantly, tons of flavor. If I were a germ, I’d scoot right out of my host body and prey upon someone else. So make sure your friends have batches on hand.

This particular carrot ginger soup came to me from the pages of Candle Café Cookbook, one of my favorite vegetarian cooking resources from one of my favorite vegetarian eating resources, the Candle Café in New York. I used to live around the corner and went there whenever I felt the urged to be elixed.

Have you ever felt so energized by a meal that it literally feels as though all of the nutrition you just ate went straight into your bloodstream? That is how I feel when I eat a great, vegetarian meal. That is how I feel when I eat at Candle Café… and now, that I how I feel when I make their recipes at home.

Imagine my excitement when I found that I could buy the Candle Café cookbook and get that fix whenever I pleased? Elated, that’s how… as though some wonderful adrenal force was coursing through my veins. Some people take drugs; I take carrot soup.

I could go on and on about the recipes in that cookbook. Unlike so many restaurants, which seem to have trouble paring their industrial sized recipes down to the scale of a domestic kitchen, the folks at Candle Café make it possible for you to actually recreate their meals. Hold on, I feel a rush coming on.

I garnished this soup with another recipe (adapted slightly) from the book—a miso tahini dipping sauce with shaved carrots and ginger. It balanced the sweetness of the carrot puree with its rich, salty sesame flavor. I added a cold dollop of it onto the warm soup, and I must say, the temperature contrast was really dynamic and heightened the complementary flavors. If you don’t want to get sick, but you do want to get high… make this soup.

Velvety Carrot and Ginger Soup

From Candle Café Cookbook

Serves 4-6

1 Tbsp olive oil
3 medium onions, peeled and chopped
5 cups of vegetable broth
6 large carrots, peeled and chopped
3 tablespoons finely grated fresh ginger
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon ground coriander
pinch of cayenne
sea sat and freshly ground pepper, to taste

In a large, heavy bottomed stockpot, heat olive oil. Add onions and sauté for about 7 minutes, or until golden.

Add the broth, a cup of water, the carrots and 2 tbsp of ginger. Bring to a boil then reduce heat and simmer, partially covered, for about 20 minutes, or until carrots are tender.

Remove pot from heat and cool for about an hour (if you don’t have an hour, be sure to pure the soup in small batches to prevent heat-related blender accidents…)

Pure the soup in a food processor or blender. Add the remaining ginger, cinnamon and coriander and blend again until very smooth. Serve warm or cold with a dollop of miso tahini dipping sauce and chopped scallions or chives.

Miso Tahini Dipping Sauce

1 c sweet, white miso
1 c water
1 c grated carrot
1 tbsp grated fresh ginger
3 tbsp tahini

Pure miso and water in a blender or food processor. Whisk in tahini until incorporated. Mix in carrots and ginger. Store refrigerated up to 1 week.

So it is with great glee and delight that I have been heating up my Houston kitchen well past the 100 degree point, if only to keep my cookie jar replete with the crunch and zing of the perfect ginger snap. An that is what they’ve got, really: loads of ginger, loads of snap. They practically crinkle in half the second they touch your lips, they’re so explosively crisp.

Mark and I have been making these cookies for a few months, for many a catered affair we’ve done at Rodriguez Elementary as part of our Recipe for Success after school program. We’ve had many occasions to cook for large crowds, including one afternoon where Secretary of Education Arne Duncan came to the Houston Department of Education. It was pretty neat, mixing batches of rosemary-infused lemonade and ginger snaps, knowing that our snack would go to someone with such clout.

The real gift, of course, was watching the kids make these (without licking the spoon!), but a close second was coming away with one of Mark’s most impressive recipes. Mark, I should say, was the head of the pastry department at Hotel Zaza’s Monarch, and is, quite possibly, the best baker I’ve ever met. But it doesn’t take a pro to make these:  even 9 year olds can whip up a professional looking batch. I even had a thought while watching Dominique roll one in sugar before gently pressing it with her thumb: if a 3rd grader can do these right, then there’s definitely hope for me after 3 eggnogs… which is often when I decide to make a few extra batches of Christmas cookies.

But I do these an injustice: they really shouldn’t be limited to cold weather holidays. In fact, I recently grilled some nectarines, drizzled them with honey, and set them beside a bit of whipped cream and crumbled ginger snap. It couldn’t have been more appropriate for the times. Another favorite: coffee ice cream with crumbled ginger snap. It sounds odd, but it’s a terrific pick me up. Oh, and let’s not forget them as the crust for a crumble or fruit pie. As with most baked goods, the only threat to success is my own anticipatory appetite. I tend to end up with about 2/3 of the recipe, because the batter just goes down so good…

The Ultimate Ginger Snap

Adapted from Martha Stewart’s Baking Handbook

Makes about 5 dozen

2 c all purpose flour
2 t baking soda
½ t ground cinnamon
¼ t ground cloves
¼ t freshly ground pepper
½ t salt
¾ c unsalted butter
1 ¼ c packed, dark brown sucar
¼ c unsulfured molasses
1 ½ T finely grated fresh ginger
1 large egg
¼ c granulated sugar
½ c crystallized ginger, cut into small, even pieces

___

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, spices and salt. Set aside.
In a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, beat butter, brown sugar, molasses and ginger on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 4 minutes, scraping down the sides when necessary.
Beat in the egg untol smooth and combined.
Add the flour mixture and beat on low speed until just combined.
Transfer dough to a bowl, wrap in plastic and refrigerate until cold, preferably overnight.
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees, positioning racks in the middle and lower third of the oven.
Line baking sheets with parchment paper.
Place granulated sugar in a shallow bowl.
Shape dough into balls the size of a teaspoon scoop.
Roll balls in sugar and place on baking sheet at least 2 inches apart.
Press balls with thumb, and place a piece of crystallized ginger in the center of each cookie.
Bake, rotating sheets halfway through, about 15-18 minutes, or until cookies are thoroughly brown—don’t worry if they look too dark… it means they’ll snap!

Melissa Clark first pointed out this interesting distinction in 2008, in a recipe that inspired my original food blog, TASTE. She asked a friendly pastry chef what the distinction between cupcakes and muffins really was. And the answer—very little. Except the obvious things we all recognize: muffins happen at breakfast. And they usually don’t have thick coats of frosting. Muffins are a little bit crispy around the edges, maybe, and tend to have a bit of texture somewhere… nuts or something. Nobody ever puts anything in the batter of a cupcake—except maybe cream filling.

So, even if the batter is about the same, quite a few important distinctions set these pastries apart from their ‘sweeter’ kin. These are one of the best possible hybrids: gingerbread cake in the shape of a cupcake, with key attributes of a muffin. If that’s not healthy, I don’t know what is. Best of all, they are a total meal/snack hybrid, very well accompanied by a smear of crunchy peanut butter at about 4pm.

The fact that these are more cake than muffin will become quickly apparent to the cook. The batter is extremely wet and somewhat labor intensive as far as muffins go. This is no, throw-wet-and-dry-together-and-stir affair. So don’t worry when your baking soda renders your molasses and oil a murky fizz. Fret not when you pour your liquid dough into your paper muffin cups, and try not to be alarmed by the long cooking time. Remind yourself, for just a second, that these really are miniature gingerbread cakes and then move on. Don’t dwell on the oil or sugar glaze. Just eat them for breakfast as if they were as hale as a bowl of steel cut oats. It all depends on how you think of things.

Like Melissa, I drizzled these with a bit of glaze, just to give them an extra bit of texture. I changed a few things, though. For posterity, I threw in some whole-wheat flour. I also replaced the currants with more pecans, as I am a crunchy fanatic. I couldn’t remember how these went when I baked them for the first time in April, 2008, and I almost added more flour before sending them to the oven as the batter looked too wet. I managed to control myself, which was fortunate—have I mentioned that the batter is meant to be runny? Finally, I undercooked these a touch. I like my breakfast chewy and supple. Just like dessert…

Crunchy Ginger Muffins

Makes 12 diminutive muffins
Time: 1 hour

Butter for greasing muffin tin

1 ¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ cup dark molasses
½ cup vegetable oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons ground ginger
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch ground cloves
5 tablespoons crystallized ginger, finely chopped
½ cup chopped toasted pecans
1 1/3 cups confectioners’ sugar
3 tablespoons whole milk.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium saucepan, boil ½ c water and pour into a large bowl.

Whisk in baking soda until dissolved, then add molasses and oil.

When mixture is tepid, whisk in eggs and grated ginger.

In a medium sized bowl, whisk flour, sugar, spices and salt.

Gently fold wet ingredients into dry and add pecans and ginger, stirring minimally.

Bake until a toothpick inserted in center of a muffin comes out clean, just under 30 minutes.

Cool in pan then transfer to wire rack.

In the meantime, whisk confectioners’ sugar and whole milk. Spoon glaze evenly over muffins. Sprinkle tops with remaining tablespoon crystallized ginger.

Yield: 1 dozen muffins.

But, like so many nondescript players in extraordinary dramas, gingersnaps are the roots that bind the Christmas table together. They may not seem so glamorous at first glance, but their spice and zing can be a perfect palate cleanser. If you’ve had one too many super-rich bites, but are just not ready to stop eating, these little buggers will carry you through. Truly, they’re the Rudolphs of the evening.

I like Martha Stewart’s recipe: this is one of the few things I’ve done of hers that really goes off with a bang. For some reason, her work does not resonate in my kitchen. Maybe it’s me, or maybe it’s the fact that her team produces thousands and thousands of recipes a year and can’t possibly have time to properly test each one. Anyhow, I suspect these were part of the early days, when she was a one-woman catering show. They are really classics.

My friend and colleague Mark Wilson—formerly the pastry chef at a very spiffy place called the Hotel Zaza—turned me onto this recipe. I like to gussy it up with some crystallized ginger and then add a textured twinkle with some turbinado sugar spooned on just before they bake. I like mine to spread and crack as they please, but you can also shape them into more perfect circles–if you’re into that sort of thing.

Since making a few batches of these, I have become decidedly hooked on ginger: I reach for little crystallized cubes after dinner. I love the way the cookies snap and zing. I love how thin they are, how they break in half so easily and almost seem to melt between my cheeks and gums. Serve these up with some Nocino or other Italian digestif and you’ll blissfully forget your Christmas bellyache.

Ginger Snaps

Adapted from Martha Stewart’s “The Craft of Baking” makes about 3 dozen

2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
1 ½ t baking soda
1 t ground cinnamon
½ t coarse salt
1 c granulated sugar
¾ c (1 1/2 sticks) unsalted butter, cut into pieces, at room temperature
2 large eggs
¼ c blackstrap molasses
1 T finely grated fresh ginger
½ c crystallized ginger, cubed and divided
½ c turbinado sugar

___

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or a nonstick baking mat and set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt.

In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat together granulated sugar and butter on a medium speed until light and fluffy, 2 to 3 minutes. (You can also use a pair of strong hands or a hand held mixer for this.)

Beat in eggs, molasses, and ginger until combined. With the mixer at low speed, gradually add the flour mixture, beating just until incorporated. When dough has come together, blend in 1/4 c crystalized ginger.

Form dough into ¾ inch balls. Press each cookie down flat then sprinkle with turbinado sugar. Place a small piece of crystallized ginger in the center of each cookie.

Bake about 9-12 minutes, rotating sheet pan once.

Cool on a wire rack and store in an airtight container.

Still, those mornings happened in Connecticut, far north of here. Here, it rarely snows at all—though last winter there was a fifteen-minute flurry that caused as many accidents during its fleeting lifespan. And even though not an inch stuck to the wet ground, the Houston Independent School District was quick to shut its doors this year, remembering, I suppose, the many car crashes that ensued during the city’s last dusting.

Or maybe the educational honchos did it because they felt like every kid deserves at least one snow day in his or her lifetime. Did a very benevolent superintendent wake up and think to himself, “This day, December 4, might be my only chance to give these kids a shot at snow angels?” Or maybe he wanted to give all his exhausted teachers a chance to put their feet up with some hot, buttered rum. These were the things I thought about as I stared at my reflection against the backdrop of a neighbor’s white, speckled rooftop.

The house was full this weekend, which always makes things feel festive, no matter what the weather. But these last few days, with friends and flurries all around us, things really felt special. The kind of special that makes you want to eat gingerbread and homemade whipped cream.

A few of our favorite people came by on Saturday night for an evening of champagne; spicy shrimp and chorizo soup; a caramelized onion crostata; a lively game of charades and finally gingerbread, dusted with sugar and piled high with whipped cream. All of that eating, drinking and playing exhausted us enough to spread communally onto couches and overstuffed chairs and fall asleep—like the naked lethargarians in the Phantom Tollbooth. I always identify with those little creatures after a big meal. Needless to say, I woke up this morning feeling very full of the holiday spirit indeed.

And though the guests have departed, a few slices of maple gingerbread remain, along with quite a cloud of whipped cream. A gal can never feel sad with a fridge full of the holidays.

Maple Gingerbread

Adapted from The Joy of Cooking

With all ingredients at room temperature, preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Grease and flour a 9-inch square baking pan.

2 ¼ c all-purpose flour
1 ½ tsp baking soda
1 tsp ground ginger
1 tsp ground cinnamon
½ tsp salt

1 c hot water
½ c light molasses
½ c local honey
½ c maple syrup

½ c (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and cooled
1 large egg
½ c sugar
3 tbs chopped, crystallized ginger tossed lightly in flour (optional)

Whisk together the flour, soda, ginger, cinnamon and salt.

In a separate, small bowl, whisk together the water, molasses, honey and maple syrup

In the bowl of a stand mixer (or not if it’s snowed so much that the power’s gone out) blend together the butter, egg and sugar.

Add the wet and dry ingredients, alternating between each and mixing thoroughly with each addition.

Before pouring batter to pan, stir in crystallized ginger.

Bake approximately 1 hour, serve with homemade whipped cream and a bit of confectioner’s sugar.

Whipped Cream

1 pint of heavy cream
½ c confectioner’s sugar

Here you will want to use some electrical assistance—hopefully your lights are back on.
Pour cream into the bowl of a hand or stand mixture and beat until it fluffs, adding sugar after the cream takes form.

Add as much or as little sugar as you like, depending on the demands of your sweet tooth.

Here' s what I did:

Sauté one large, minced onion in 1.5 tbsp olive oil in a saucepan over medium-high heat. * Add ¾ cup minced ginger and sauté until translucent—about 5 minutes. * Add 3 cups of home made chicken stock and 3 cups of chopped carrots. * Cover and simmer about 30 minutes or until carrots are tender. * In batches, puree mixture in blender or food processor. * Return to pot and mix in ½ c orange juice and ½ c milk. * Cook over low heat for 5 minutes and add ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon. * Season with salt and pepper.

You can' t really mess this one up. I added a lot more ginger than the recipe called for and find it extremely refreshing when served cold, and very comforting when served warm—which is a complexity I don' t get from most dishes. This soup goes well with a dollop of yogurt to temper the ginger and balance the citrus acidity.

Every bite I take of this loaf makes my taste buds jump for joy. This gingerbread is dense, spicy and has chunks of crystallized ginger that feel like angels dancing on my tongue. The apple and banana used to emulsify and sweeten make the center of this cake-ish bread dewy and smooth.
A few days ago I found myself pondering another version of the great zucchini bread experiment, a task that left me feeling confident in the possibilities of baking without white flour, sugar or oil. I began to think of what wonderful combinations to mix into my steadfast and wholesome batter. I ventured that the consistency of apples and zucchini, once drained of juices and baked, would be rather the same. I like baked apples.

So I grated up 3 peeled Braeburns in place of the zucchini. Earlier that day I' d read a virtually impossible gingersnap recipe in Martha Stewart Living. Since the directions were inconceivable for anyone sans a sous-chef, I opted to copy her flavor choices while forgoing her instructions.

[ASIDE: Martha, if you are reading this, please soften the tone of your writing. When you say to your readership, “After mastering scrambled eggs, roast chicken, and mashed potatoes, many a young homemaker [in the 1950s] set her sights on the dessert as an extraordinarily easy yet seemingly extravagant means to impress guests—and a surefire way to a man' s heart.”It is really quite belittling. Not only because I have recently mastered those arts, but also because the recipes you provide for these so called “extraordinarily easy”concoctions are often five pages long, involving unidentifiable tools, techniques and ingredients.]

What really sealed the deal on my ginger bread was the little sack of crystallized ginger I had crouching in my cupboard, waiting to pack a spicy punch. There was also an ounce or so of the fresh variety sitting on my windowsill. In addition, I had a bag of unsweetened dried apples and cranberries, plus a couple of winking lemons who have been trying to seduce me into using them for something. (Too often I forget my lemons and they shrivel in bitter disappointment on the fruit rack.) There was definitely a baking party just waiting to get started in my cake pan.
Here' s how it went:

*1c spelt flour, plus ½ c soy flour* 1 tsp baking soda* 1 tsp baking powder* ½ tsp cinnamon, ½ tsp ground ginger all whisked.* In a separate bowl, 2 large eggs (pre-beaten)* 1 medium banana, mashed with my hands (which equaled ½ c)* 1 tsp. vanilla* ½ c unsweetened apple sauce plus ¼ c local honey* ½ tsp salt mixed thoroughly together. Also, 2c grated apple (juice squeezed out); ½ c chopped, crystallized ginger* 1 tbsp grated fresh ginger* 2 tbsp lemon juice, 2 tsp lemon zest, and ¾ c dried apple / cranberry all mixed together * Mix wet and dry ingredients, then add the fruit, ginger, lemon and dried fruit combination with a few quick strokes.* Greased pan, at 350 degrees approx. 35 minutes—give or take.

This bread pairs very well with lapsang souchong tea in the morning, and goes nicely with vanilla yogurt as a snack. It complements everything, actually… even grapefruit. Only one thin slice remains and tomorrow, this gingerbread will seem like a fleeting dream.