If ever there were a way to categorize Chewy Lemon Gumdrop Cookies, I'd venture to say they'd be in league with some of the world's Ultimate Happy Things. See also: baskets full of kittens, Hello Kitty stickers, baby shoes, rolling meadows full of sunshine, soft grass and wildflowers. Really, guys, cookies don't come much more cheery than these little gems. Lemon! Sugar! Candy! Cookies! This could only get more fun if we were eating them at a slumber party while braiding each other's hair.

I first started thinking about putting gumdrops in a cookie after I had some positively addictive ones that Stacie contributed to our recent bakesale. Hers had oatmeal and soft spice and strictly used orange gumdrops, but I couldn't stop marveling about the whole thing--it was a candy-cookie hybrid, a celebration of chew. I was hooked. I knew I wanted to rework the idea in some way, but seeing as I'm sort of short on time to work on recipes that don't have a deadline, I figured I'd bookmark the idea in my increasingly feeble mental file and wait for inspiration to strike at a later date.


Well. Inspiration indeed struck, in the beautiful sort of slap-yo'-mama way that the best ideas so often do. One morning last week, I had actually managed to drop Little C off at school at a time that wasn't considered late, and thought I'd cruise through the nearby Trader Joe's to pick up a few things for dinner.

So if you've ever been to a Trader Joe's, you know that it's equal parts Kingdom of Awesome, Den of Little Personal Space and Spiral of Shopping Cart Traffic Hell. But as it turns out, at a few minutes before 9:00 a.m., it's sort of a ghost town, and therefore akin to a spa day for a food geek. I strolled the aisles, childless and with great leisure, murmuring to myself when I came upon a particularly interesting item. I loaded my cart with approximately 110 more things than I'd intended. I was having a glorious Trader Joe's experience.

As I approached the checkout line, I perused the little kiosks of insanely delicious impulse buys that live near the registers. And like a beacon of confectionery hope, there it was, practically singing and waving to me--a glossy, adorable little package of citrus gumdrops. Pink grapefruit, tangerine, key lime and lemon. They would be tucked into a soft, chewy sugar cookie heavily scented with lemon. I added the package of gumdrops to my pile of wasabi peas, savory rice crackers, string cheese and dirt cheap organic apples and deemed it so. Happy, happy, happy.



Chewy Lemon Gumdrop Cookies

I used Trader Joe's Citrus Gumdrops for these cookies, but any fruit-flavored drops will do. If the drops are on the smaller size, halve them. If they're the larger ones, cut them in quarters or smaller. After cutting the drops, toss them in a small amount of granulated sugar just to prevent them from sticking together.

Let these cookies cool completely before serving--piping hot gumdrops rival pizza cheese burn.

I'm a stickler for using organic lemons when zesting them for cooking or baking. But that's just how I roll.

Makes about 2 1/2 dozen

2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup sugar
Zest of 2 lemons
1 cup (2 sticks) butter, at room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
2 large eggs
1 cup small gumdrops, halved and tossed in sugar (see note)

Position oven racks to the upper and lower thirds of the oven and preheat it to 375 degrees. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats.

Sift together the flour, baking soda and salt into a medium bowl.

Place the sugar in a small bowl with the lemon zest. Use your fingertips to work the zest into the sugar until the sugar is moistened and fragrant.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, beat the butter until soft and creamy on medium high speed. Beat in the lemon sugar and vanilla extract until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Beat in the eggs. Scrape down the bowl. Set the mixer on low and gradually stir in the dry ingredients. When just a few streaks of flour remain, stir in about three-quarters of the gumdrop pieces.

Using a small scoop or two spoons, portion the dough into balls, 2 tablespoons each. Place the dough balls on the baking sheets about 4 inches apart, or about 8 to a standard sized baking sheet (the cookies will spread). Dot a few of the remaining gumdrop pieces artfully atop each dough ball. Bake until the edges are lightly golden and the centers are still pale, 10-11 minutes. Let cool on the baking sheet for a minute before transferring the cookies to a wire rack to cool completely before serving.
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Oh, people. It seems like everyone I know has got the crazies these days--work, raising tiny people, planning parties, errands, getting summer plans together, maybe writing a book or somesuch. I haven't read an "I'm so borrrred...!!" Facebook update in months. It's a happy, Springtime sort of busy, I suppose, but crazymaking nonetheless. I say it's high time we all had a recipe for Bostock in our back pockets. It's the sort of soul-soothing foodstuff that comes together so quickly that if you blink you'll miss it, and it's so perfectly lovely you'll be wondering where it's been all your life.

I found myself having a little Bostock moment myself after this past blitz of a weekend, dominated by helping to run the completely fantastic San Francisco Food Blogger Bake Sale. It was a grand success--we raised more than $2400 for Share Our Strength, yahoo!--and the afterglow (and sugar high) was lovely. Also, utterly exhausting. But mostly lovely. And definitely a Bostock-and-tea-or-hey-maybe-bourbon-to-regroup-type of thing.

In short, Bostock is the most direct way to get all the satisfaction normally delivered by the buttery, creamy almond pastries normally only found at great bakeries. It give you a French toast feeling, without all the mess and hassle. It's hardly a recipe, even. And it's the world's most perfect way to use up past-its-prime brioche.

All you do is cut yourself a thick slice of brioche (or two or three, ahem), soak it with an easy almond syrup, and then slather it with frangipane, a dreamy, buttery almond cream that comes together in mere minutes. Top it all with sliced almonds, pop it in the oven for a quick bake, and BAM--you'll be transported out of your totally bananas life into a General Foods International Coffee moment in no time flat. The syrup and the frangipane keep for weeks in the fridge, so go on and make the whole batch and store it for emergency Bostock-requiring situations.

The oven transforms a handful of humble ingredients into something other-worldly. The buttery brioche comes alive again, thanks to the almond soaking syrup. The frangipane puffs and browns and is at once crisp on the edges and creamy in the center. Toasted almonds winking at you as you start to shove the whole thing in your face. Sigh. Move this recipe to the top of your mile-long to-do list, guys. You're totally worth it.


Bostock
Adapted from a recipe from Francis Lam on Salon.com,
Frangipane recipe from David Lebovitz

For the almond syrup:

1/2 cup brown sugar
1/2 cup water
1 tablespoon honey
1/2 teaspoon almond extract
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/8 teaspoon salt

For the frangipane:
4 ounces almond paste, crumbled
1 1/2 teaspoons sugar
1 1/2 teaspoons all-purpose flour
1/8 teaspoon almond extract
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, at room temperature
1 large egg, at room temperature

For assembly:

Day-old (or more) brioche bread, cut into 1-inch thick slices
Sliced almonds, for sprinkling

For the almond syrup, combine all the ingredients in a small saucepan. Bring to a boil and stir until the sugar is dissolved. Let cool completely.

To make the frangipane, place the almond paste, sugar, flour and almond extract in the bowl of a food processor or electric mixer. Mix until the almond paste is in fine, uniform pieces. Add the butter and mix until very well-blended, then add the egg and the liqueur, if using. Mix until the frangipane is smooth (there may be a few tiny unmixed pieces of almond paste, and that's fine--they'll disappear during baking).

To assemble the Bostock, preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Working one slice at a time, generously brush the brioche slices with almond syrup on both sides. Place the slices on a baking sheet and slather them with substantial amounts of frangipane. Sprinkle almonds on top to your liking. Bake until the frangipane is puffed and golden, about 15-20. Serve warm.
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Have I ever got something wacky for you guys! So check this out. For the past couple months, I've been writing a real, live cookbook. And by "writing" I mean up to my eyelashes in granulated sugar. The book is scheduled for release next Spring, and will be published by the fun, creative and insanely talented folks over at Quirk Books. I can't even begin to tell you how thrilled I am to be in the company of some bloggers/authors I have such mad admiration for, like Matt, Susan and my darling friend Anita. Wow, wow, wow.

We've decided to keep specifics of the book's topic under wraps for just a bit longer, but c'mon--you guys know me. It's safe to say that it's prrrrobably not going to be a book about salad.

I've been recipe testing and writing for quite a while already, and this week I am already preparing for the first shoot for the book, which will be shot by the extraordinary Leigh Beisch and styled by Sara Slavin. This dynamic duo has created some of the most incredible images from beloved cookbooks I have had on my shelves for years, so in a few days, you can find me showing up at a photo studio with boxes of painstakingly-made goodies, trying not to die from awkward excitement.

In short, lots of pinch-me moments around here. Lots of showings of Toy Story 2 while I try to get just One. More. Thing. Done. Also, lots of moments that have me thinking that Morgan Spurlock really ought to do a documentary about what happens to a person when they are writing a sweets cookbook--but that is neither here nor there. I will be sharing updates with you here from time to time if you don't mind. It will make it a bit easier for me to wrap my brain around this whole mind-blowing experience if I can tell you a little about it.

And I really need to thank you, too. If it weren't for this space, for your support and kindness and light, I never would've become prepared enough to reach this point. So get ready, people--there's gonna be a whole lot of crazy up in here. Like, more than usual. Okay, I'm going back in. Dang, my kitchen floor is a hot mess.
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