2005 was a good year. I got married and I found this recipe. A while later I lost the recipe and I’ve been searching for it ever since.
My husband is still here, though.
When I even think of how this buttery little gem crumbles and then melts in your mouth, I get…oh, yes. I’m excited already. But first let me just say that the internet enables my habit of being a tad disorganized.
I used to have this black vinyl binder filled with recipes from my pastry kitchen days. It’s splattered with dried cake batter and encrusted with petrified who-knows-what dough. The optimist in me believes it’s in our attic snuggled up against containers of baby clothes and other stuff I hope to use one day. In it lies the ripped out magazine page from Gourmet 2005. The attic, however, is an unwelcoming vortex above our living space and I don’t go up there. Ever.
I don’t know what made me decide to google this cookie after all this time. It popped up on the screen after only a few seconds. Yes, dear internet, you make life too easy for me. Screw you, creepy attic and ditto to you black vinyl binder.
They may not sound like much, but oh my are they special and cozy and delicious.
Read through the recipe. Do brown the butter. Do let the dough rest as directed.
You’ll be rewarded not with a decadent dessert akin to a chocolate fudge layer cake, but with a tiny cookie that hugs a layer of jam. A cookie that whispers simplicity but also leans forward with dimension if you pause to taste it. These aren’t to be gobbled. Although if that’s your style, then by all means go for it. And understand that if you’d rather eat dirt than a shortbread cookie then, my apologies, these aren’t going to wow you.
Make these and enjoy. If you love them (or you decided that dirt actually does taste better), please drop me a line and let me know.