Holiday Goodies

Got leftover Halloween candy? Make cookies.

If you think Reese's Peanut Butter Cups are good straight out of the wrapper, then wait until you taste them baked into these big, bumpy, nutty, chocolate chunk cookies.

Here's what you need to do:

1. Print this recipe.
2. Ransack your kids' Halloween bags for 6 Reese's Peanut Butter Cups.
3. If you don't have kids, then go the supermarket and buy a bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. It's not as much fun as #2 but at least you might catch them on sale.
4. Bake the cookies, turning on the oven light to watch them swell.
5. Eat a still warm, melty cookie and wash it down with a glass of cold milk while you reminisce about Halloweens past.
6. Sigh in satisfaction. There are still 23 cookies left to eat.

This morning as I was headed to work wishing that I was celebrating Fat Tuesday in New Orleans, Mobile, Venice, or anywhere other than snowy New York; I walked past the local bakery where I was aghast to see a King Cake for sale in the window for $65 dollars!  

For those of you unfamiliar with the concept of a King Cake, it is a fairly simple brioche pastry twisted into a wreath and decorated with multi-hued icing in colors of purple, green and gold. 

The delicacy (and I use the word in jest) is sometimes filled with cream cheese or cinnamon, but the true secret to a King Cake is that baked somewhere inside is a tiny plastic baby and the person who finds the trinket, and hopefully doesn't swallow it, is considered king for the day. 

A French tradition that in this country is centered around Mardi Gras, King Cake is eaten during the pre-Lenten hurrah right up through Fat Tuesday, the final day in while unbridled Bacchanalian abandon is allowed to continue. 

Have you seen the Reddi-Wip commercial that’s been running on television? They’ve timed it to run this time of year when pumpkin pie is being jotted down on the planned menu for many Thanksgiving Day cooks. Every slice of creamy pumpkin pie needs a dollop of topping, right?

In the commercial, a woman is seated at the counter at a diner. When she orders pie, the waitress holds up a can of Reddi-Wip in one hand and a plastic tub of topping in another. “Oil or cream?” she asks.

The viewer knows very well the plastic tub represents the light-as-cotton candy whipped topping that can be found in the freezer case at all supermarkets. And, no matter what brand it is, the frozen topping is usually referred to as Cool Whip.

When Cool Whip was introduced to the public in 1967, my mom went nuts over the whipped cream look-alike. My mother, who grew up eating real food on a farm in Indiana, snubbed the thick liquid cream as she marched right past the cartons of thick white liquid on the shelf in the dairy case and headed straight to the freezer, tossing a couple of plastic tubs of frozen whipped topping into her grocery cart.

My husband has been begging me to make rugelach for years now.  They are the favorite cookie of his youth and he has always raved about his mother's rendition of them.  I've just never gotten around to making rugelach happen.

About five years ago, my husband attempted to make his own batch of rugelach.  Oh my goodness, they were these horrible little petrified pieces of doodoo.  They were so hard and burnt they exploded when you took a bite.  Of course I laughed and didn't think about making them for a long time. 

About a year ago, this recipe was published in my local paper and I held on to it until now.  It belongs to Margaret Hasson from Portland, Oregon whose rugelach is sought out by friends whenever she is baking.  I truly believe it, because these little bites are pretty much heaven on a plate.