Homey Cookies (oatmeal raisin cookies)

I am a sucker for advertising. Sell me a bottle of water for 15 cents and I think it is reasonable. Slap a nice label on a snazzily designed bottle of the same water and I will happily pay ten times that price and walk away thinking I got a good deal. I suppose it is the same mechanism (albeit in the opposite direction) that gives me sticker fever.

Another branch off that same tree is the warm, fuzzy, back-to-childhood feeling I get about certain foods, even if they’re relative newcomers in my life. It doesn’t matter that turkey never featured on our Christmas dinner table growing up; I have seen so many American tv Christmas dinners, read references to Christmas turkey and heard about big bird Christmas adventures so often they feel like my heritage, too. I want a good old-fashioned trussed turkey for Christmas, even if it is the first time!

The same thing has happened between me and oatmeal-raisin cookies. I don’t remember ever eating one as a kid. I remember fantastic homemade butter cookies with a whole hazelnut on top. I remember fresh apple pie and, boy, do I remember individual sponge cakes with fluorescent pink frosting. But oatmeal-raisin cookies? Nope. Still, I have come to a point where I firmly associate these cookies with home, coziness and long afternoons running through flowery fields. I grew up in a house where the closest field of flowers was… not somewhere I ever got to. No matter, the feeling is there and sometimes I like to milk it for all it is worth.

Which is why I baked oatmeal-raisin cookies when I wanted to make a friend feel welcome this weekend. And to give the cookies that extra-homey touch, I added a good pinch of cinnamon. They were crispy on the outside, chewy on the inside and very cozy indeed. The recipe comes from Cooking With Friends; I halved it, substituted vanilla sugar for the granulated sugar, omitted the vanilla extract and dialed down the amount of salt and raisins. The original can be found here, among other places, my version is below.

Oh, and for the drink pairing to make this my second koek en zopie entry? What else than a glass of cold milk? Another thing I didn’t do in my childhood (we had tea with our cookies), but that seems so right now: milk and cookies.

Oatmeal-raisin cookies

Based on Cooking with Friends

Makes about 15

90 gr butter, softened
80 gr firmly packed light brown sugar
65 gr vanilla sugar (not the synthetic stuff from small packets)
1 small egg
85 gr rolled oats
80 gr plain flour
scant 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
scant 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of salt
large pinch of cinnamon
handful raisins

Preheat the oven to 190C.

Cream butter and sugars together until light and fluffy. Add egg and beat until well combined.
In a separate bowl, combine oats, flour, soda, baking powder, cinnamon and salt. Mix into butter mixture until just combined. Stir in raisins.

Form the dough into small golf ball-sized orbs and flatten onto a baking sheet covered with a silicone mat. Leave quite a bit of room between the disks to allow for spreading.

Bake for 12-15 minutes until golden brown. Cool on the baking sheet for a few minutes and then continue cooling on a rack.

Tomato Sauce with Butter and Onion

In a perfect world, every Sunday morning would start with a clean house and a few racks of cookies cooling on the counter. The smell of baked goods wafting through the rooms, mixed with a whiff of lemony cleaning fluid every now and again. I would potter around, reading the papers, sitting in the sun. Then, after I finished the papers and had plenty of time to take a refreshing shower, one or more friends would come over to share the cookies with me.

In the real world, I spent this whole Sunday morning running around my apartment like a madwoman, clearing away weeks’ worth of stuff strewn about, sloshing blue chemicals around the toilet bowl and bumping into things with the vacuum cleaner. The sun was shining, but I had no time to do something as frivolous as sit down, because there were counter tops to clean and a floor to scrub. By studiously ignoring yesterday’s unread papers, I managed to get the place presentable, and even bake some cookies, before a friend and her little girl were due. Like every good guest, she was a little late, so I dragged myself out onto the balcony for a breather.

Forty minutes later, I was getting worried. I had applied the mascara I didn’t think I’d have time for, read three chapters in a truly fluffy (but oh so entertaining) book and even changed my outfit. Still, my friend had yet to arrive. So I checked my planner and discovered I needn’t have risked slipping a disk to get the floor ready in time, because we had agreed to meet an hour later than I thought. Right.

Well, I had a clean house and a plate of cookies (plus an excellent time with the two beautiful women who came to visit). It was just half a day later, and in more haste, than in a perfect world. Although, if I’m honest, the cookies and cleanliness probably felt even better for the hard work I’d put into them. Also, it made for a great excuse later in the day, when it was time for dinner, I wanted something delicious, but did not feel like braising the red cabbage I’d bought. It just seemed like too much hassle.

As you might know by now, this is perfectly normal Sunday evening behavior around these here parts. Only this time, I had an excuse so I felt completely justified ringing the pizza guy to bring me a warm pie. Except, I didn’t feel like having pizza. Unusual, but given the suspected number of calories in the feta-egg pizza I have been enjoying, I welcomed the feeling. This did mean, however, that I had no plan for dinner. That is, until I looked at my provisions and added up a can of tomatoes, an onion, a chunk of butter and a few handfuls of dried pasta into the pasta with tomato sauce Molly wrote about over at Orangette a few years ago.

The sauce is ridiculously easy to make. You put a few tablespoons of butter, a peeled and halved onion and a can of tomatoes in a pan, heat the lot and let it simmer for 45 minutes. It is even easier than calling for a pizza, and quicker too, if you are in my part of town. But that’s not the best bit. The best bit is the incredible flavor you get for so little effort. The sauce is rich, earthy and sexy. If that’s possible. It is comforting and uplifting at the same time and makes for a mighty fine ending to a good Sunday.

Amsterdam Food

Pigeons having a snack put out by one of my neighbors

Testing the Waters (Quinoa with chicken and avocado)

Hi, I’m back. Did you miss me?

So it’s been a while, and I thought it might be a good idea to ease us both back in gently. Although I really cannot judge your state of mind, so I should be honest and tell you that I need a bit of kiddie-splash-pool time before diving in the deep end again.

Cooking has been slow in my kitchen recently. Meals have been easy and baking has been non-existent. However, there is good news because from sheer laziness this lovely salad-like dish was born. It is tasty, quick and even moderately healthy. Let me share with you, for when you’re in need of a bit of kiddie-splash-pool time.


Quinoa with chicken and avocado

Serves 1, easily multiplied

2 cups of quinoa, cooked (about 1 cup of uncooked quinoa)
1 avocado
1 small smoked chicken breast
1 handful of cherry tomatoes, halved (optional)
¼ cup yogurt (preferably Greek style or another thick kind)
handful of basil leaves, crushed finely (or use a squeeze of basil paste from a tube if you’re feeling extra lazy)
1 small clove of garlic, minced

Mix the yogurt with the basil and garlic. Cut the chicken into small pieces and the avocado into largish chunks. Mix the quinoa with the flavored yogurt and then gently fold in the chicken, the avocado and the tomatoes if you’re using them. Stick in a spoon and eat.