Apparently, there is a whole category of foods that are only found in New York city. I'm not even talking about the foods that New Yorkers claim are only good in New York: bagels, pizzas, hot dogs, cannoli. They may be right on that last one. I've had some good cannoli here (especially the version they sell at Madeleine's), but of the two sublime cannoli experiences of my life, one was in New York city, and the other came thanks to a transplanted New York Italian woman with whom I was an undergraduate. I can't remember her name for the life of me, but I sure do remember her cannoli. I remember her saying that she formed the shells on a broom handle. I remember the tiny dots of candied orange peel and chocolate in the ricotta. I remember being amazed that a non-cream cheese could be used in dessert to such great effect.
I must admit, I am still skeptical about the almost mystical superiority of New York bagels. My "in-laws" were visiting a few years ago, and headed out one Sunday morning to buy breakfast for us. They came home with lox, cream cheese, capers, but no bagels, even though we had sent them to Huckleberries with the instructions that they had a selection of the two best bagels in town (Ultimate Bagel and Humble Bagel). We had warned them that we knew they were not NY bagels, but that this was Spokane. We had told them that we like to eat these bagels. And yet, they came home bagel-free, claiming that the bagels they had seen weren't even the same species of food. They explained to us, sad that we were so deprived and ill-informed, that bagels were supposed to be boiled and baked, which they did not believe these were. (It was unclear to me how they thought they had been made -- perhaps they had been extruded from a faeries' bum? Wouldn't that make them better?) So, I had high hopes when they arrived for Thanksgiving with acceptable bagels in tow, and you know what? They really weren't noticeably different. Perhaps slightly chewier while still maintaining a certain lightness, but I'm talking nuances of distinction, not a difference of kind. Undoubtably I just need to go to the city and I will be converted to bagel snobbery, much the way I've been converted to pizza snobbery by Italy.
The point is that bagels exist outside of New York. What doesn't exist outside of the city (with exceptions, mostly made by transplanted New Yorkers) are crumb cake and rainbow cookies. Crumb cake is basically a species of coffee cake, about half cake and half crumble and almost all butter. I found a recipe for crumb cake on-line the first summer Jeremy and I were together, and surprised him with it one Sunday morning. It's easy to make, messy to eat, and delicious. I have to admit that I haven't made it in a couple of years, because the crumb is made with an amount of butter that even I found frightening -- a full two sticks!
But crumb cake can be found outside of New York, if you try hard enough. Notice the recipe I just posted actually comes from a bakery in North Carolina. Andronico's, a supermarket chain in San Francisco, had some on the occasional Sunday. What I have never seen before, and Jeremy says he has never seen outside the city, are rainbow cookies (also known as Italian Flag cookies). He says they are his favorite cookies, and a special Sunday morning treat when he was growing up. He has described the various ways to eat them in great detail. His eyes have gotten that misty, far away look of someone remembering an irretrievable childhood experience. So, obviously, I had at least to try to make them.
First, let me explain that "cookie" is a misnomer. They are really small petit-fours: three layers of dense almond cake (dyed red, white, and green with food coloring), separated by a very thing smear of raspberry jam, sliced into small rectangles and given a jacket of chocolate. There are a number of recipes on-line, and they are all remarkably similar. I picked this one, which was well-reviewed on Epicurious. I followed the recipe exactly, right up to the chocolate application and cutting, so I'm only going to link to it rather than illegally claiming it as my own. Following Jeremy's memories, after layering my cake, I sliced it, shortways, into eight logs about 1 1/2 inches wide. I covered that in melted chocolate (it took about 8 ounces), and then sliced them about 1/2 inch thick. It is best to slice them about an hour after you coat them in chocolate, and then keep the logs together while they set up a little more.
My first batch of rainbow cookies must be the most expensive cookies I have ever made, but not because the ingredients were all that expensive. A full container of marzipan, a full jar of jam, and two bars of good baking chocolate isn't cheap, but the real problem was the pans. The pans called for were an unusual size (13x9), and I needed three of them. That is what turned these in forty dollar cookies. On the up side, I am now equipped to make these cookies anytime I want them, assuming I have five hours to devote to them. That's the other thing about these cookies. They are time consuming. No one step is that difficult, but there are many, many steps, and all of them require a cooling or resting period in-between. So between the shopping, the baking, the construction, the slicing, it took me pretty much an entire day.
Man oh man are they worth it! Jeremy's joy in them would have been enough, but I loved them, too. The flavors of raspberry, almond and chocolate maintain their identity while melding together beautifully. The cakes are dense and rich, but tender and refined. The appearance is not so refined, but is joyful. In short, they are my new favorite Christmas cookie (the colors are supposed to represent the Italian flag, but they are Christmas colors as well).
Turns out that a lot of people feel this way about these cookies. There is an entire Facebook group devoted to the rainbow cookie. When I brought some to my friend Liz, who grew up in Connecticut, she said they had been her favorite as well (her family bought them at a nearby Italian bakery). The three of us ate the entire batch within about two days, and I've promised to make at least one more batch before Christmas. You should, too. Why should New York have all the fun?
