I grew up hating coconut. It smelled like suntan oil to me, and called to mind a revolting Hostess confection known as a Snowball. Snowballs were round and hot pink and unnaturally soft. The only texture came from the “coconut” coating, which looked and felt like dryer lint. Snowballs were so cloying and mushy that I couldn’t stomach them at any age, which is saying something. I had a towering tolerance for sweet and mushy as a cavity-prone child of the 70’s. Snowballs put me off coconut for decades.

Eventually I encountered less processed versions of coconut. And once I tasted coconut milk in savory marinades, sauces, and curries, I fell in love. Coconut milk is rich and fragrant. It’s an utterly luscious vehicle for hot, complicated spices, redolent of tropical climes. I’ve never met a coconut curry I didn’t like. Still, it took time to get past the memory of those Snowballs and open my heart to coconut desserts.

 I made my first tentative stab at coconut dessert with Ina Gartens’s coconut cake. It was perfection.  In the glow of that cake, the texture of coconut actually seemed like a good thing. A thing to embrace, rather than flee. Hostess Snowballs began receding to a faint, menacing, hot-pink memory. My conversion to sweet coconut was recently complete when I made my first-ever batch of coconut macaroons. These bad boys have a crumbless, chewy consistency all their own. They are moist, and ever-so-slightly flowery. Bittersweet chocolate adds a deep, dark and creamy counterpoint.  

Not only do these cookies embody intriguing flavor and texture, they also score high on the unfussiness scale.  Of course, I had to go and gild the lily by dipping them in chocolate. That’s wholly unnecessary, and it pretty much doubles the preparation time. I won’t fault you if leave them un-dipped.  But if you have a few extra minutes, you’ll be glad you dipped. Really glad.

I considered several macaroon recipes, and went with the simplest (naturally). This recipe is adapted from the one printed on the bag of Baker’s brand sweetened coconut.

Chocolate-Dipped Coconut Macaroons
makes about two and a half dozen cookies

1 14-ounce package of sweetened coconut flakes
¼ cup sugar
3 large egg whites
2 teaspoons almond extract
½ teaspoon salt
4 ounces bittersweet chocolate

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In a large bowl, stir the coconut, sugar, egg whites, extract and salt with a wooden spoon.

Place batter by generous, rounded tablespoonfuls onto parchment-lined cookie sheets.

Bake for 15-20 minutes, until edges are golden brown. Cool completely.

Melt chocolate in a double-boiler (or a glass or metal bowl placed atop a saucepan of gently simmering water).

Dip the bottom of each cookie into chocolate, up to a depth of about a quarter inch. Place cookies upside down on parchment paper until chocolate cools and hardens (about 20-30 minutes).

I am the edgy one in my family. The moody one. The one most likely to say something caustic and regrettable. Somehow I managed to marry a kind and reasonable man. We went on to have a kind and reasonable son. Even our dog, Edna, is kind and reasonable. In my dark and snarky moments, they all three look at me with good-hearted concern, wondering how they can help. It’s infuriating.

On a good day I like to think I just have a lively temperament. My prickly side is balanced by a sense of humor and boundless loyalty and affection. On a bad day, I think I’m a nasty little troll, profoundly undeserving of the gentle sweetness that surrounds me. Regardless of how I feel about it, it seems I’m stuck with myself.

Fortunately, my family raises the bar on my behavior. Tenderness towards them inspires me, increasingly, to zip my mouth when I’m in a mood. (Um, I haven’t perfected that part just yet…) I’ve also learned that energy gets barbed without an outlet, and I have deep reserviors of energy. Cooking gives that energy something to do with itself. Chopping, washing, stirring, and sifting have a calming effect on me.

We all have to eat. That’s one impetus for cooking. Then there’s my endless fascination with the flavors and textures and colors of food. But the main driving force behind my cooking is a longing to make some goodness for the people I love. Obviously, I get to eat it, too. My motives aren’t all altruistic. Still, it’s safe to say that preparing food makes me a nicer person.

While cooking doesn’t change my mercurial disposition, it does lend some equanimity. There is a measure of redemption in feeding friends and family. Each meal is a small, daily gesture of thanks for all the love and forbearance.  Even Edna wins. I offer her little bites, which she takes gently from my hand.

So there you have it. I’m not the sweetest person in the world, or even in my house. But I try to make amends. Can I offer you some cake? This rustic torte is a pure and simple homage to chocolate and almonds. It’s nothing but nuts and chocolate gently held together with sugar, egg whites, and air. It’s nubby, light, and altogether spectacular. The recipe was adapted from one in Pure Dessert, by Alice Medrich.

CHOCOLATE-ALMOND TORTE
12 servings 

1 cup (5 ounces) unsalted, unblanched whole almonds.
7 ounces good quality bittersweet chocolate, broken into big pieces (no need to chop)
3/4 cup sugar
1/8 teaspoon salt
7 large egg whites (about one cup), room temperature

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Grease a nine-inch springform cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper.

Combine the almonds, chocolate, ½ cup of sugar, and salt in a food processor and pulse until the almonds and chocolate are very finely chopped but not completely pulverized. Set aside.

Beat egg whites with remaining ¼ cup sugar until stiff peaks form when the beaters are lifted.

Gently fold one third of the nut mixture into the egg whites until just incorporated. Repeat with another third of the nut mixture, then once more with the last third.

Scrape batter into prepared pan and spread evenly. Bake until a toothpick inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean, or with just a little melted chocolate, about 30-35 minutes.

Cool cake completely and remove from pan. Cover or wrap tightly, and store for up to 3 days at room temperature. Dust with powdered sugar before serving.

Guilt is a powerful motivator. I’ll start with the confession.  My friend Sarah left some of these cookies on our porch, wrapped individually in red-and-white checked paper, and nestled on a tiny scalloped tray. She’s like that. She doesn’t just bring a thoughtful surprise. She wraps the thoughtful surprise in a charming package with a bow.

There was one cookie for each of us. In the course of a few hours, I ate all three. It was gluttonous and wrong on many levels. My conscience has been hounding me ever since that greedy greed fest.

And so I bring you cookie penance. If there’s anyone whose spirits you’d like to lift, or if you’re feeling contrite about that thing you did (you know who you are), I recommend you buy yourself some butter and get started.

For me, it was like this: The overflowing basket of clothes was STILL sitting there, not folding itself. Emails were backing up. The dishwasher needed emptying. But rather than bite the bullet and cross a few tasks off my list, I broke out the mixer and three sticks of butter.

A good cookie can put any pile of laundry into perspective. These beauties are just the ticket for existential grumpiness.  How grumpy can you be, really, with velvety chocolate and vanilla having a dance party in your mouth?  Oreos will never again cross your lips. They are feeble imposters.

By my standards (which are really low, or really high, depending on your perspective) these cookies are the teensiest bit fussy. Despite the short ingredient list, you still have to make cookies AND filling. I won’t lie to you. That means washing the mixer and bowl twice. I know, I know. The blog is called “Unfussy Fare.” But rules are made to be broken, and in this case it’s worth it. Life’s petty concerns will wait for an hour. They can hang out in the corner, with the dust bunnies.  You’ve got amends to make.

The chocolate shortbread cookie recipe came from Sarah, who tells me it was originally Martha Stewart’s. Sarah also helped me realize I could make up my own vanilla filling, which I did. If you like a more refined-looking cookie, you can take more care than I did to roll, cut, and fill them evenly. Mine are, shall we say, rustic-looking. That’s because I am lazy and I cut corners wherever I can.

CHOCOLATE COOKIE SANDWICHES WITH VANILLA FILLING
makes 18 sandwiches

1 ½ cups flour
¾ cup cocoa
½ teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons butter, room temperature
1 cup sugar
1 egg

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

Whisk together flour, cocoa, and salt.

In a mixer, beat sugar and butter together until fluffy.

Add egg and beat until mixed.

On low speed, add dry ingredients. Mix until the dry ingredients are incorporated.

Shape the dough into two round discs about one inch thick. Wrap each disc in plastic wrap and chill for one hour. If the dough is too sticky to roll out, chill it some more. If it’s too hard, let it warm up a little.

Roll the dough out on a well-floured cutting board until it is ¼ inch thick.

Cut cookies with a two inch cookie cutter (or an espresso cup, if you’re me and you don’t have a two-inch cookie cutter). Gather up the scraps, roll them out, and cut a few more cookies.

Bake on a parchment-lined cookie sheet for 12 minutes, or until they look dry to the touch.

Cool cookies completely.

VANILLA FILLING

¾ cup powdered sugar
6 tablespoons butter, room temperature
¾ teaspoon vanilla
1 teaspoon milk

Beat ingredients together with a mixer until smooth.

Spread one tablespoon of filling on the flat side of a cool cookie. Top with another cookie.