Bacon Fat Gingersnaps
We’re going back to California tomorrow (or today rather, as I write these posts the night before) for the holidays and we’ll be gone an entire two-and-a-half weeks! There’s still so much to do, so I’m keeping this post short. And then I must return to packing and meeting last-minute work deadlines and cleaning out the fridge (urgh).
After that, I foresee freeeeedom and warm-ish weather and long drives down the 1. We’re putting up the tree with my family, seeing friends, and hitting up all our old haunts. One of these days, I will write a long ode to California, but for now, I’m leaving you with a recipe for bacon fat gingersnaps.
I’m guessing you can tell why these cookies are special. Yup! They’re made with bacon fat. While the idea is that you’ve been collecting bacon drippings all along, saving it in a little bowl so you can re-use it for other recipes (something I vividly remember my mom doing when I was younger), I had to go out and buy a pound-and-a-half of bacon especially for this recipe, and then spent the better part of an hour frying it up. Later that night, and for days after, we reheated the strips and used them for sandwiches and omelettes and other such delights. These foods all benefit from bacon, I’m sure you would agree, so it wasn’t too much trouble for me.
The cookies themselves taste smoky and exotic, hardly like bacon, although you can tell there’s something in there that contributes an inexplicable… savoriness? Huskiness? I’m definitely not a slap-bacon-on-it-and-call-it-a-day kind of gal, by the way. But I do like my ginger-flavored sweets, and I love the softness of these cookies. (which begs the question: are they technically gingersnaps then? Aren’t gingersnaps supposed to be, I dunno, snappy?)
I also love the origin of this recipe, which comes from Cathy Horyn, the renowned New York Times FASHION editor who got the recipe from her mother. Yes! So I suppose this recipe is an old-new take on a classic gingersnap recipe that is perfect for the holidays.
BACON FAT GINGERSNAPS
Adapted from Leite’s Culinaria
Makes 3 dozen or so
Ingredients:
- 3/4 cup bacon drippings (from 1 1/2 to 2 pounds bacon), at room temperature
- 1/2 cup granulated sugar, plus more for the work surface
- 1/2 cup brown sugar
- 1/4 cup molasses (not blackstrap) or cane syrup
- 1 large egg
- 2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 1/2 teaspoons kosher salt
- 2 teaspoons baking soda
- 2 teaspoons ground ginger
- 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
- 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
Directions:
Mix all the ingredients together until a smooth, stiff dough forms. Wrap it tightly with plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least a few hours and up to 2 days.
Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Line 2 baking with parchment paper. In a small bowl, pour about 1/4 cup sugar. Break off 1-Tbsp chunks of the cookie dough and roll them into balls. Then roll them around in the sugar to coat and place them on the baking sheets, 2 inches apart.
Bake the cookies 10 to 12 minutes, until dark brown. Let cool.
Tomato Soup
Yesterday, I was working at Starbucks (Freelancers Central) when a lady standing by the doors tipped over into a drug-induced trance.
The baristas immediately called 9-1-1, but the woman sitting next to me, the one who’d seen the whole incident go down because she’d been standing outside making a phone call when it happened, just shook her head and informed me that the lady was ‘as high as a kite.’
Now that’s a feeling I can relate to. That world-weariness. After all, I had gone to school in the most psychedelic college town in the country (Berkeley), and lived in what is probably the most homeless-friendly big city in the WORLD (San Francisco). I’ve seen it all—so what if I’m only 26?—all the different variations of drug-induced catatonia and rants and everything in between.
This old man with white hair, he’s a regular who just hangs out in the cafe all day chatting with other regulars (except me, because I avoid eye contact with strangers, much in the style of Amelie Poulain), leapt up from his seat and raced outside, wanting to take charge of the situation. He reminded me of one of those alert guard dogs, the kind that’s been bred to inspect signs of disorder, and cleared aside the small crowd that had gathered around the woman to get a closer look.
He re-entered the cafe a few minutes later. “She’s on drugs,” he said disgustedly.
A few minutes later, the lady dizzily pushed herself up and teetered away. “She’s only on drugs,” Mr. Regular repeated, shaking his head.
This was when the firemen rushed onto the scene. They pulled up in their shiny truck with their sirens blaring, and parked gracefully into the empty space in front of the building that just happened to be big enough for one regular-sized fire truck.
“Did they need to bring so many men?” the woman beside me asked. Sure enough, five firemen stepped out, clad in their heavy protective gear. Men who meant business. Men who looked like they were ready to put out a fire.
“She doesn’t need firemen,” said Regular Man. “She needs to be slapped in the face and drenched with tomato soup!”
Tomato soup, now that’s an idea.
Did he mean what he said sadistically? Was he implying that the lady should be burned with a hot, acidic liquid as a sort of punishment? Or maybe he thought it would revivify her, the equivalent of pushing her into a molten pool. Or maybe he just wanted tomato soup for dinner and had made a Freudian slip.
Whatever the case, guessing does not change the fact: these are the kinds of moments that can inspire meals. I’m very easily persuaded, and I happen to really like tomato soup.
This recipe is one I’ve been making since my student days, so you can be sure that it’s low-maintenance. And it came in handy during my time in San Francisco, a city whose 365-days-per-year fog and gloom is enough to drive a person mad. You see, you need a soup as heartening as this to keep your spirits up, lest you succumb to drastic measures. Like quitting your job and chasing summer in the Southern Hemisphere. Well, that latter part was unintentional.
I don’t remember how I came upon this recipe anymore. I copied it long ago into a little pocket notebook that I have on me at all times—we all have one of these, I suspect—and have been faithfully following the same set of directions for a long time. I’m sure its source is not as obscure as I make it seem, but I prefer to keep it a mystery, for the sake of having a “family recipe” that I can pass down for generations. Or not. I don’t think that far ahead. (But it would be cool nonetheless.)
TOMATO SOUP
Serves 4
Ingredients:
- 1 28-ounce can of chopped tomatoes
- 1/4 cup olive oil
- salt & ground pepper to taste
- 2 stalks celery, diced
- 2 small carrots, diced
- 1 large yellow onion, diced
- 4 cloves garlic, minced
- 2 cups chicken broth
- 2 bay leaves
- 1/2 cup chopped basil
- 1/4 cup cream or milk, optional
Directions:
Preheat oven to 450 degrees F. Strain tomatoes, reserving the juices, and spread onto baking sheet. Season with salt and pepper, and drizzle with about 1 Tbsp olive oil. Roast until caramelized, about 15 minutes.
In a saucepan, heat the rest of the oil on medium-low heat. Add celery, carrots, onion, and garlic. Cook until softened, about 10 minutes. Add the roasted tomatoes, reserved juices, chicken broth, and bay leaves. Simmer until vegetables are tender, 15 to 20 minutes. Add basil and cream if using. Puree with an immersion blender.