Chocolate Salted Caramel Cookies

I always have to have something sweet in the house. Call it my vice or my weakness, but I just can't help myself. Cookies, cake, pudding, or chocolates, I'm not picky. It doesn't even have to be a big dessert; a small handful of chocolate chips will do.

Hello, my name is Kristin and I'm a sugarholic.

The first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, right?

Sometimes I'll clear the house of (aka completely devour) all of the chocolate and sugary snacks in an attempt to convince myself that I don't need them. I don't have to have a snack every single day. I don't need sugar to make me feel satisfied after a meal. Chocolate is not my best friend. These are the things I tell myself. But, really, who am I kidding? Chocolate is a woman's very best friend.

I usually make it a day or two (I think my record is three) before I cave and find myself in the candy aisle of the grocery store picking out sour gummy worms. I don't even like candy but, given a few days without my sugar fix, a girl tends to forget these things. If I still feel guilty about succumbing to the sugar cravings, I'll go to the baking aisle instead to buy important baking ingredients. You know, chocolate chips, toffee...

In my deepest, darkest, sugar deprived moment, I got out a spoon and a bag of brown sugar. Don't you dare judge me.

These chocolate salted caramel cookies are sweet, salty, and oh so rich. The caramel melts into the cookie, bringing a soft caramel flavor to the chocolate, but it stays solid enough to form ooey gooey strings when you break a warm cookie in half. Decadent and delicious, these cookies will only leave you wanting more (and a tall glass of milk).

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Sugar Cookies

I moved back home, got miserably ill, spent several days on the couch, drank gallons of chicken soup, but I'm back! This may be the longest I've gone without posting since... ever. It feels weird. I've missed you.

Even though I've been listening to Christmas music for a solid month, the Christmas season still managed to sneak up on me. I knew it was coming (as we seem to be forcefully reminded every few minutes) and I managed to finish my Christmas shopping weeks in advance. Still, I was blindsided. I woke up this morning and suddenly realized it's less than three days to the Big Day and I haven't done any baking. None. This may be the ultimate sin for a baker. 'Tis the season for gluttony!

Every Christmas, for as long as I can remember, my sister and I have made and decorated sugar cookies for Santa. It's a tradition we've kept even now, though we are much older and know all about St. Nick's big secret. I think it is the perfect place to kick off my Christmas baking.

My sister and I have very different decorating styles. I like to pull out the pastry bags, the gel food coloring, a variety of pastry tips, and sit for hours decorating cookies. I tend to get a bit upset when one of my lines is not straight enough or the frosting seeps out of my perfectly outlined shapes. My sister scoffs at this. Her decorating style is to dig into the frosting with a knife, smear it on, throw on a few sprinkles and call it good. She decorates only a handful before getting bored of the elves or reindeer and running off to do something else. I feel slightly ashamed in admitting her cookies look just as deliciously beautiful as my carefully constructed ones.

On Christmas Eve, we gather the crème de la crème of the batch, place them carefully on a plate, and leave them out on the fireplace with a tall glass of milk for Santa. Occasionally my mother will suggest, after eating our Christmas Eve feast, that we should leave out fewer cookies or a smaller glass of milk (you know, because "Santa" will already have hundreds of thousands of cookies to eat tonight). One year my sister thought that it would be a good idea to leave out a cookie for each of the reindeer too. My mother tried to convince us that reindeer didn't like butter and sugar (which I think is a bit of nonsense, everything likes butter and sugar), but her desperate pleas eventually won out.

In the morning, all that's left of our Santa treats are a few crumbs, a good dose of sprinkles, and an empty glass of milk. Sugar cookies have become a well loved tradition in my family, a tradition that I hope will continue as we grow older. Do you have any holiday traditions?

These sugar cookies are simple and classic. This recipe is easy to work with and produces a clean, even surface for decorating. These cookies are soft and would melt in your mouth if you let them. There is a strong vanilla flavor, which I love, but you can always opt for a less strong cookie, if desired.

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Candy Striped Meringues

I got into an argument with a squirrel. Not just any squirrel, but the very same cheeky bugger that stole my spatula. Even with all of my verbal acuity and panache for pronunciation, I was defeated. I lost a battle of wits to a squirrel.

Let me explain.

I left a very small bag of garbage hanging out on the balcony. I didn't think much of it, until Mr. Squirrel walked his way around the balcony railing. He was cold and shivering and looked at me with such hopeless eyes that my heart reached out to him. For a brief moment, I seriously considered inviting him for a cup of tea. So when Mr. Squirrel started pawing his way through the trash bag, I almost encouraged him.

That is, until I realized he was going to make a mess.

By then, he had sliced open the bottom of the bag and spilled out graham cracker crumbs. I politely knocked on the door and asked him to leave. He dashed off and I returned to working in the kitchen. I saw him approach out of the corner of my eye, creeping along the balcony's ledge once again. I knocked on the door just as he was back to prancing about in the garbage. This time he didn't scamper off. He looked me dead in the eyes, picked up a banana peel and threw it across the balcony, as if to say What are you going to do about that?

I gasped. He tossed around some egg shells with an air of nonchalance. I was being taunted by a squirrel! I opened the balcony door and yelled at him. He scampered off looking terrified. I felt smug. That's right, Mr. Squirrel, run away, run away.

I underestimated the intelligence of Mr. Squirrel.

Instead of approaching along the balcony's edge (where he knew I'd see him), he trudged silently through the deep snow, keeping out of sight. He was back to making a royal mess. When I finally spotted him, I flung open the balcony door and let out a yell that would make Tarzan proud. Mr. Squirrel glanced up from his meal, but couldn't be bothered to move. I made loud warrior noises. Mr. Squirrel went back to munching. I pleaded a solid argument as to why he should leave using full and complete sentences. He didn't even look my way. Mr. Squirrel made it clear that he was going to do whatever he pleased and there was nothing I could do about it.

And that, my friends, is how I lost a battle of wits to a squirrel. He took away my spatula and then he took away my pride.

I flavored my candy striped meringues with a bit of almond extract. Like a good meringue, the cookies are crunchy with a soft interior. The chocolate ganache filling perfectly complements the almond meringues, providing the meringue sandwiches with a smooth texture. These cookies are small and gorgeous and so easy to make. I dare you not to eat 12 in one sitting.

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