I had an old 70% cacao chocolate bar that was unopened and unused, so I thought I’d make good use of it before the semester ends and bake some chocolate sable cookies using the recipe from Miette Patisserie in San Francisco. I’ve made these cookies and posted them in an earlier post, but I thought I’d share again. These cookies are symbolic, of something…not quite sure what yet.
Yesterday I went to a teach-in called “Justice vs. Accountability: George Floyd, Black Lives, and the Derek Chauvin Verdict”, hosted by my college. Obviously, it was a heavy topic and was very informative but emotionally draining. One of the panelists talked about how growing up, they too had a list of names of people who died because of racialized violence, and now we young folks have a list. This is such a sad truth that we live in. Although things change, they also don’t. At least in the past two generations of people, we have been constantly seeing headlines of another person murdered on the basis of their identity. Things are different now from 60 years ago, but I often forget that prominent Civil Rights Activists are still alive today or recently passed away. It annoys me that even though things change, they don’t really. So much of what people were pushing for in the Civil Rights Era did not get implemented in the way most of them hoped. I know change is slow, but I’m annoyed that it is slow even for this. Even for basic human decency and rights.
Back to the cookies. I have made these before. In my kitchen at home with a stand mixer and a ruler, I meticulously cut out each cookie in perfect 2-inch squares. I tried so hard to make the cookies perfect squares, but it literally did not matter because they just got baked and the shape shifted in ways I could not imagine. Is this how people fighting for change feel? They try so hard to shape the world to how they want it to be, but it is difficult. I would guess they feel some happiness with the small victories they obtain, but it must be so hard. Working tirelessly for racial equality, sustainability, reproductive justice, and others but not seeing the results you want. Things you try to do may not always work out in the way you want them to. But then again, the cookies were still good even though the heat of the oven morphed them into irregular rectangular cookies. It was still worth it to make the cookies, to cut them out. So the efforts of activists are worth it too, making changes even if they aren’t reaching total justice.
The cookies I made in my dorm room were not as good as the ones I have made with the materials in my home. For one, I used this recipe from a family friend’s blog instead of the one from the cookbook (although they might be the same, I’m not sure). Also, I made them in a dorm room so I did not have the tools for peak cookie form. I don’t have a stand mixer in my room (unfortunately), nor do I have counter space to roll out the cookies or a rolling pin or plastic wrap for that matter. What I did have was a bowl from target, a whisk, a mini silicone spatula, a microplane grater, a popcorn popping bowl, and the determination to make the cookies. I refrigerated the chocolate prior to grating it so it would not melt in the time I painstakingly grated it into the plastic popcorn bowl. It took me a good 45 minutes to grate the whole 2.3-ounce bar of Solstice Wasatch blend chocolate, but I did it during my psychology class, so it was a good way to stay focused on Zoom class by doing a mindless motor task. I set the butter on my desk to come to room temperature, and later in the evening, I got to making the cookies. The recipe says to cream the butter, sugar, and vanilla in a stand mixer for 4 minutes. Instead of doing that, I vigorously whisked the butter, sugar, and vanilla by hand as my sole arm workout for the day (professional bakers must have nice forearms). The key to whisking something that is not meant to be whisked by hand is to put all your frustrations and pent-up anger into mixing. Just really get in there. Mad at the state of the world and white supremacists who think they can kill POC and get away with it? Mix away. Mad at the U.S.’s coronavirus policy that led to so many unnecessary deaths, including the deaths of your loving grandparents. Mix. I formed the dough, ya know, just mixed everything together and called it a day. Then I had to “roll” it out. So since the only surfaces in my room are the floor and wooden desks which are stripped of varnish and have probably existed in a college dorm for decades of student activities in their rooms, I thought it best not to try to roll it out anywhere. I had a gallon Ziploc bag that my Halmonee sent me last semester. I used to be annoyed when she sent me random things I didn’t need, but now I miss it. I miss her and her crazy antics. I smooshed the cookies into the shape of the bag, with the help of a cylindrical container of furikake that I used as a makeshift rolling pin. Once the cookies were spread, I was at a loss for what to do next. I couldn’t exactly take the block of dough out and cut it, it was too fragile. So, I ripped the bag at the seams and cut and placed the cookies out on a baking tray. Oh yeah, forgot to mention, I have a very nice baking tray that the company shipped my mom on accident so now it is mine :).
Into the oven the cookies went, after a sprinkle of sugar. After 10 minutes, out the cookies came. As the cookies cooled, my friends and I sat in the dorm kitchen staring at them, willing them to cool faster. I heard my mom’s voice in my head “Chocolate baked goods don’t taste good warm, you have to wait for them to cool.” Alas, we succumbed to the chocolate smell and split one cookie three ways. It was not that good, by my standards. They were not chocolatey enough while warm. We waited for longer, then the cookies became better. Still, to me, something was off. Maybe it was the temperature of the butter, the fact that I mixed the ingredients by hand, or the method in which I rolled out the cookies, but they did not have the same crisp crumbly texture that they usually do. Makes sense, given the method in which I made them. Things were the same, the ingredients were the same, but still, the cookies were different. Alternatively, things were different, the materials were different, but the cookies were, in essence, the same. Things change but they don’t.