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).

Recently I spied a recipe for butter cookies printed on the inside of a Land-o-Lakes butter box.  It called for just a few simple ingredients, including my beloved butter. It used just one bowl. Excellent. The only problem I could discern was that the recipe didn’t call for almonds, and I am on an almond bender. That issue was easily enough remedied with a little almond extract and almond paste. Oh, and I added an almond glaze. My husband thought these cookies were possibly a little overly-almondy. As if.

My almond excesses were validated when the best cook in the neighborhood requested the recipe. Ha. Vindicated. Almonds reign supreme.  Almonds are elegant in every way. They’re great with sugar and with salt, and certainly with butter. They have a subtle perfume, and a silky texture, and a sleek shape. They are the jungle cat of the nut world. And these cookies? They’re the best cookies ever to cross these lips. This is not a claim I make lightly.

These cookies are so soft they’re nearly fluffy. There is no crunch here whatsoever. There’s just the tiniest give as your teeth break the glaze. A smidge of chewiness from the almond paste.  Then the cookie just melts in your mouth. (Not in a pasty kind of way, more in a “I-have-been-waiting-for-this-cookie-my-whole-life” kind of way.) So, if perfectly-pillowy, extra-almondy, one-bowl cookies tempt you, read on. I promise I’ll simmer down a little with the hyphens.

The dry ingredients in this recipe are not combined before adding them to rest. No whisking, sifting, or stirring. You just throw them into the bowl, willy-nilly. After a lifetime of mixing dry ingredients in a separate bowl, this struck me as akin to blasphemy. But there it was, printed oh-so-officially on the inside of the butter box.

After tasting these heaven-sent cookies, I blinked hard and pondered how many hours of my life I have spent sifting and whisking and washing that extra bowl. Was it all for NOTHING? Rather than sink into existential despair, I took a glass-half-full approach. I’m starting a list of all the meaningful things I can do with the time I’ll save not combining dry ingredients.  

I don’t think the texture of these cookies can possibly be improved upon. Naturally, this makes me wonder what other steps I could be skipping (in cooking and in life) with no negative fall-out. Professional bakers and purists among you should maybe read a better person’s blog.

SOFT ALMOND COOKIES

1 ¼ cup sugar
1 cup butter (2 sticks), room temperature
2 tablespoons almond paste (sold in tubes in most bakery aisles)
2 eggs
2 teaspoons almond extract
3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda

Preheat oven to 400 degrees.

In a large bowl, beat sugar, butter, almond paste, and eggs until creamy.

Add remaining ingredients and mix on low until combined.

Scoop by round tablespoons onto ungreased cookie sheets. (I lined mine with parchment paper, but I’m sure that’s not necessary. It just makes the clean-up easier.)  

Bake for 10 minutes – they’ll be very soft, but brown on the bottom. Cool for five minutes on the cookie sheet, then move to a rack or a flat surface to cool completely before glazing.  (I’ve never owned a cookie rack. I cool them on a cutting board. Pathetic, I know.)

ALMOND GLAZE

1 cup powdered sugar
1 teaspoon almond extract
2 tablespoons milk

Place ingredients in a small bowl and stir with a spoon until smooth. If it seems too thick, add more milk. If it’s too thin, add more sugar. The glaze should be smooth and spreadable.

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.