I was hoping to give this rugelach recipe from Ruby Glen an unqualified thumbs-up, but I can’t. It tweaks me when I discover that the baking time is 2 to 3 times what the recipe claims it is, and I hate having to figure out how to roll out the damned dough without it sticking to the rolling pin.
Fortunately for you, I’m here to perfect the recipe.
Those of you who boggle at bagels may not be familiar with rugelach. They are a horn-shaped pastry made from a cream cheese, butter, and flour dough. You can fill them with fruit, nuts, chocolate, you name it. They’re delicious and easy to make (or rather, they should be easy to make).
There are two important bits missing from the Ruby Glen recipe:
1. I had to bake mine 45 minutes to an hour before they were golden brown. The recipe calls for 16 to 19 minutes. Grrr.
2. Even a well chilled dough is sticky beyond belief. I sprayed two large squares of parchment paper with non-stick cooking oil spray, and I rolled out my dough between the squares. I did this on a marble pastry board, so the dough stayed cold and remained pliant.
I rolled out another ball of dough between ungreased layers of parchment, but this flopped miserably. The dough stuck to the paper. Only by freezing the paper/dough sandwich could I peel off the paper, and then my dough was too hard to roll. I made it work, but oh, what a mess.
My filling: I followed Ruby Glen’s recipe (using pecans), and I added a quarter cup of milk chocolate chips before grinding the whole thing in a blender.
Rugelach: yum.
D.
Lyvvie wins the Challah baloo contest. This evening, I’ll check to see if I have your snail mail addie, and if not, I’ll drop you a line.
I wish you all could have won, but that damn cookbook is spendy. Oh, but I love it. I’ve been reading through it this past week, and I’m itching to try Julia’s rye bread, rugelach, brioche, and pumpernickel.
***
A. J. Jacobs must have the most sadistic muse on the planet. He’s the guy who wrote The Know-It-All, a memoir about the time he read the entire Encyclopedia Britannica; and if you think that’s High Concept, you haven’t heard about his latest: The Year of Living Biblically, which documents his attempts to abide by every last commandment, including the stoning of adulterers. (He gets around the obvious lawbreaking aspect of the commandment by hurling tiny pebbles.) The man has a fine sense of humor, I’ll give him that:
This isn’t a cutesy grumpy old man. This is an angry old man. This is a man with seven decades of hostility behind him.
I fish out my pebbles from my back pocket.
“I wouldn’t stone you with big stones,†I say. “Just these little guys.â€
I open my palm to show him the pebbles. He lunges at me, grabbing one out of my hand, then chucking it at my face. It whizzes by my cheek.
I am stunned for a second. I hadn’t expected this elderly man to make the first move. But now there is nothing stopping me from retaliating. An eye for an eye.
I take one of the remaining pebbles and whip it at his chest. It bounces off.
“I’ll punch you right in the kisser,†he say.
“Well, you really shouldn’t commit adultery,†I say.
We stare at each other. My heart is racing.
Yes, he is a septuagenarian. Yes, he had just threatened me using corny Honeymooners dialogue. But you could tell: This man has a strong dark side.
So . . . what should A.J. do next? That evil muse of his will probably convince him to become a homeless person entirely dependent upon the kindness of strangers, but I think A.J. needs to take the reins here. His long-suffering wife has proven her ability to weather the most obnoxious of projects; surely she won’t object to a year of nightly sex, rain or shine, no heed paid to backaches or headaches or intestinal flu, and to really spice it up, every night has to be something completely different.
I can hear him now. “Come on, honey — it’s for my art!”
D.