Afghan Cookies

So, after an entire year hiatus, the 1001 cookies project is back. Even though I am currently teaching seven classes and writing a novel and trying to learn how to play guitar and discovering the joys of pastels and watching way too many horror movies about vacations gone awry, I figured that now is the time to start baking again. Also, August is clearly the most logical month for baking.

So now, after the long wait, we are on the second cookie in the 1001 Cookies cookbook: The Afghan Cookie.

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Since my husband Zach is temporarily unemployed, he is sometimes prone to the kinds of frenzied attacks of cleanliness that once assailed 50's housewives and caused them to scrub banisters with old toothbrushes. Yesterday, he spent about four hours cleaning the kitchen. Not just wiping the old food off the counters and picking up the beer bottles from the floor (which is what I mean by "clean the kitchen"), but he actually scrubbed the oven, got the collection of crumbs and twist-ties and pieces of torn-up junk mail from under the coils of the burners (so now the house doesn't fill with smoke when I make tea!), and even moved our shelving, which hid a petrified potato and a sponge from last January, which might have been the last time I actually scrubbed the floor. It was amazing.

After Zach's wonderful job of creating one clean room in the house, I pretty much want to be in the kitchen all of the time. So on a Sunday night, after six hours of work (and no nap!), at 9:30 PM, I started on my Afghan Cookies.

Afghan cookies have one of the weirdest combination of ingredients that I've seen yet: dates, corn flakes, cocoa. Being a budget shopper, I bough both generic cocoa and cornflakes, those kinds of awful industrial cornflakes that somehow taste even worse than their branded counterpart.

Since I haven't baked in almost a year, and since the kitchen looks completely different than I remember from the last time I actually did anything in it besides make a pop-tart, I spent the first 20 minutes trying to find measuring cups. I figured Zach had put them in some mysterious place (like a drawer instead of jumbled in a big mixing bowl), but I found them eventually in the mountain of dirty dishes.


Before I get to the recipe, let's learn some history, shall we?

Ok, after about fifteen minutes of hardcore research (google), I find that Afghan cookies originated in New Zealand, not Afghanistan as the name might lead you to believe, and the name is, as the Wikipedia entry puts it, "mysterious". Some recipes have minor variations on the one I used--some do not use dates, some use dark chocolate instead of cocoa powder, and some use a product called "wheatabix" instead of cornflakes. I bet they are a non-US version of cornflakes, but the name makes me think of something one might take for digestive issues. I'm sure they are wonderful, though! Please don't sue me, Wheatabix!

Here we go:

First off, you'll need about 1/3 cup finely-chopped dates. Boil some water in a teakettle and pour the boiling water over the dates until they are covered. Leave the dates for about ten minutes and then drain them of water. Preheat your oven for 350 degrees while waiting for the date mixture. Also, feel free to listen to Beyonce's B'day album throughout this entire process, just like I did.

Next, cream a 3/4 cup of softened butter with a 1/3 cup of sugar. The recipe called for vegetable shortening, which I didn't have, and which I never use for anything if I can help it. Add the mushy, drained dates and then a teaspoon of vanilla extract:





Next, I mixed one cup of flour, 1/3 cup of unsweetened cocoa, and 1 teaspoon of baking powder. Then, I gradually mixed the dry ingredients into the wet ones until combined. Then, I folded in two cups of cornflakes:




If you used butter, as I did, you might want to chill the dough for a while before spooning walnut-sized pieces of dough on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake on 350 degrees for about 10 to 13 minutes, depending on your oven.

Here is what my finished products looked like:

Verdict:

So, Zach liked these, but they came out not nearly sweet enough for my taste and far too soft. The butter might have been a bad choice, or perhaps the dates weren't drained enough and added too much liquid--either way, they were sort of fudgey in texture. Next time, I'm going to use slightly more corn flakes and more sugar.

Ok, I have just gotten incredients for Afghan cookies and plan, hell or high water, to start my cookie blog again. Huzzah!

Recipe #1, Abernethy Biscuits

The first recipe in my 1001 Cookie Recipes cookbook is for an "Abernethy Biscuit" (see the iced cookies to the left). This seems to be a pretty standard roll cookie aside from the strange addition of Caraway seeds, which I usually associate with rye bread, my least favorite bread in the world. When I was a kid, something about the taste of those little seeds always made me think of onions, which I also abhorred. Just smelling onions made me turn green (particularly fresh onions, just cut, and all the stingy sharpness they exuded all over the house & refrigerator).


But I like strange things, and caraway seeds in cookies are strange, so I was up for giving it a try. Also, since I haven't eaten rye bread since my gustatorily uncurious childhood, when the sight of a heaping pile of sickly-green canned peas could make my stomach turn, I was pretty sure that I wouldn't feel quite so stomach-turny at the taste of caraway seeds anymore. I like to think I have an expanded palate now. I can even stomach onions, when cooked thoroughly and rendered unrecognizable and clear. My grandmother used to eat them fresh, dipped in mustard. I'm not to that level of onion tolerance yet. Back to the cookies.

Before we get to my recipe results, though, some history is in order. Abernethy biscuits were created by, or named after, Dr. John Abernethy, a Scottish surgeon who believed that most sicknesses come from bad digestion. You'll come across this kind of doctor in pretty much any 19th century British novel, particularly the Romantic & Gothic ones, which involve delicate women fainting or men who drink thick wine & port & beer and eat too many spicy foods and squander their inherited money on gambling and the various charms of women with dubious reputations. In such novels, the doctor inevitably prescribes some kind of bland biscuit, cracker, and broth when said man or woman has a fainting fit, bad dreams, or attacks of nausea. This biscuit was created to settle the over-excited stomach, or to make the very timid stomach feel justified in its lack of curiosity. From what I can tell, the Caraway seeds were added for completely practical reasons--they were supposed to aid in digestion.

Knowing said history (Thank you The Old Foodie and Wikipedia for the info), one might imagine that the Abernethy biscuit is a sad affair, all bland and medicinal, like bubble-gum flavored penicillin or those travesties of chocolate, Ex-Lax chews. But, my friends, the Abernethy biscuit need not be a cookie only for 19th century stomach settling.

I changed the cookie recipe as listed in the cookbook to better fit the ingredients that I had on hand. Unfortunately, my changes probably rendered it useless for digestive purposes (a cup of butter will never be recommended for good digestion, I'm sure). Good thing I'm not off quaffing gallons of port on a daily basis.

The original recipe called for vegetable shortening, which I never have, so I substituted it with butter. The vegetable shortening version would probably create a crispier cookie, as mine were a bit dense. I also changed the order of the mixing, due to the inclusion of different ingredients. This definitely changed the intended texture of the cookie. The original recipe called for mixing the flour and sugar with the vegetable shortening, much as one does when making US "biscuits"--the fluffy biscuits and gravy kind of biscuits. Here is what I concocted instead. See the book for a more authentic recipe.

5.5 cups of flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
.5 teaspoons salt (not in the original recipe)
1 cup of sugar (I used brown, but if you want the crispy, lighter cookie, use white)
1.5 cups butter (vegetable shortening will create a different cookie)
3 eggs
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons caraway seeds

Mix together dry ingredients in a small bowl.

Cream together butter and sugar until the mix is light and fluffy. Add the eggs one by one, beating again until light and fluffy. Add the extract and lemon juice. Use lemon zest, if you have it. Lemon extract might create an interesting taste, too, but I used lemon icing on the cookies, so I didn't want the entire thing to taste like a sickly sugary lemon with caraway seeds stuck in it.

Mix the dry ingredients as well as the caraway seeds gradually into the butter/sugar/egg mix. Add milk as needed, if the batter is too stiff.

Although the original recipe doesn't call for it, I put my dough in the refrigerator for a while to aid in stiffness for rolling. Using butter creates a bit wetter dough, so this might not be necessary for those of you who decide to use vegetable shortening.

After a time in the refrigerator or freezer, take out the dough and roll it to 1/4 inch thickness on a well-floured surface. I suggest using a pastry cloth for rolling, which prevents sticking and messiness. Cut out 2-inch circles. Bake at 350 for 7 to 10 minutes, depending on your oven & your ability to remember to check the clock.

After baking, you may ice with an easy lemon icing:

1 cup confectioners sugar
2 teaspoons lemon juice
a tablespoon or so of water

Mix this concoction up, adjusting lemon juice and water as desired, and drizzle over the cookies after they have cooled.



My results:

My cookies were interesting-- kind of fresh and sweet and tangy, but I think I cut them too thick (not being so good at measuring by eye), so they were a bit chewy and dense, whereas I get the impression they are supposed to be crispy & light in texture. But the taste was something else--sweet and strange and slightly peppery. Z said that he also detected dill, and I trust his taste buds (he is the best taster I know! He can identify all manners of strangeness). I brought these cookies to a pot luck and people seemed to genuinely like them, and not just in the "Wow, these are interesting" (read not very good, but weird) kind of way.