Swirly n' flaky
I brought these cookies to a friend’s surprise birthday party and received two pieces of very pointed feedback on them.
1) Though it wasn’t directed at me, someone asked, “Are those dog treats or actual cookies?”
2) I brought these cookies in a very nicely packaged, high-class tupperware container. I also put some of my signature oatmeal chocolate chip cookies in the container to fill out the package and provide some extra treats. During the party I saw someone pick up a pinwheel cookie, notice an oatmeal cookie underneath, shove the other pinwheels out of the way to grab the oatmeal cookie and then yell, “Yo, Chris (party-host)! You tryin’ to hide the good cookies from us?!”
Despite harsh reviews, I liked these little cookies. They were more crumbly and mild than I was expecting, but would pair nicely with a cup of tea or coffee. Plus, they’re very cute if rolled well. If not rolled well, the incomplete spirals, flattened sides, and tears poured into the dough may taint their cuteness. (Add in clenched fists, clenched jaws, and shouting and you know what my kitchen was like during this recipe creation)
The other day, I saw a video recipe on Facebook about pinwheel cookies that were half sugar cookie and half brownie. Sadly, I knew i had no business making them when I have 15+ pages of cookie recipes in the SCCB to bake. When looking through the dessert pages for a recipe for this week, I came across this black and white pinwheel cookie recipe and squealed. Black and white, brownie and sugar - same thing, right?
The most exciting part of this recipe was getting the opportunity to finally buy a tub of Crisco. My working knowledge of Crisco comes from listening to my grandma talk about baking. I remember her saying the secret ingredient to her famous bridgermen (gingerbread men) cookies and her pie crust was Crisco then giggling with delight. Something about a big tub of fat was so sinful we couldn't help but laugh.
It's amazing to me to see how many recipes in the Salem County Cookbook contain Crisco, and call it out by brand. In a world of low-cal, reduced fat recipes and corporate-branding-phobia, these recipes would not play very well. Trying to morph the recipes into something more “guilt free” has also proven futile. One Christmas my step mom attempted to make the famous bridgermen with less shortening and less sugar than prescribed and the final product was more like hardtack than sweet treat. There have been no more attempts since.
With that in mind, I gleefully dug into the smooth surface of my vegetable shortening and began baking. For those of you that are interested in the details of Crisco and vegetable shortening, read the italics below. For those of you that could not be bothered to know the difference between fat and shortening (is there even a difference at all??), skip this section. And maybe consider adopting a more exciting, learning mindset.
Without fat, ingredients would not adhere to each other, would stick to hot pans and plates, and just plain wouldn’t taste as good. This is a generalization, yes. For a more in-depth look at good fats, bad fats, trans-fats, omega 3 fatty acids, fat asses, and more, please direct your attention to other blogs. For our purposes, we are talking fats in general.
Crisco is just another fat. Crisco is vegetable shortening, which means, vegetable fat. Specifically, it is made from cottonseed oil. Shortening is simply any fat that is solid at room temperature - like the pork fat you strain into a jar after cooking bacon. This definition gets confusing when you put butter into the equation. Butter is solid at room temperature but is rarely referred to as a shortening, especially in baking. This is due to how it reacts with other ingredients and effects the bake. Today, since hydrogenated vegetable oil (see more on this below) has become so common, the term shortening is typically saved for Crisco-type products only.
In baking, vegetable shortening is what makes pie crusts and shortbread flaky and buttery. The fat content is essential to that. To this point, Crisco cut its fat content in 2004 to appease the newly fat-conscious masses which resulted in huge outrage that is still continuing today - consult the comments section of the Crisco Amazon listing for evidence. (The comments section also yields great advice on using Crisco for candle-making, seasoning cast iron pans, and hair and skin care. It also contains my favorite comment of all time, “I HAD A HEART ATTACK. GO VEGAN”)
Crisco is not as evil as advertised. As with anything, use it in moderation and you will not be sorry. After all, Crisco is a pantry staple for all bakers. Unless you like soggy crusts and dry biscuits, give in to the shortening. Become at peace with the shortening. Love the shortening.
Because of the Crisco, the end dough was flaky kind of like pie dough. I was a bit disappointed. The dough was hard to mix chocolate into and was much less exciting than that smooth, greasy dough ball you end up with when making cookies with butter or oil.
The flakiness also made creating the pinwheel design especially frustrating. This paired with rushing and inattention to detail caused more frustration and a less-than-perfect roll. The recipe only provided this advice, “roll as you would a jelly roll” as if I was a master at that! Cute. I did my best rendition of Mary Berry but couldn’t cut it. The final log was definitely a spiral - a spiral with chunks of dough missing and asymmetrical sides - but still, a spiral. (Note to self: Here is a video tutorial on how to roll a jelly roll to reduce tears and shouting during future attempts).
I was not very satisfied with the final product. They looked cool, but they didn't taste quite right. Kind of like a non-sweet shortbread - there’s only a half cup of sugar in this entire recipe. I think next time I’ll add ¼ more cups of sugar. Still, the half-batch that I left to Gary and his roommates was consumed within a few days. I’m guessing with expert execution, Lillian Catherman’s (the recipe’s creator) cookies were never mistaken for dog treats...
For the recipe, click here.