ORANGE PECAN CRUMBLE COOKIES + DARK CHOCOLATE SAUCE
My first memory of ever cooking anything is held within the walls of a small sunny kitchen on a hillside dairy farm in upstate New York. Rays of summer sunlight poured in through the large kitchen window, which overlooked the aging barn and opened up to expansive views of the sloping lawn. Off in the distant hills, I could see the familiar twists and turns of winding country roads throughout the verdurous treescape. Counter space was scarce, so supplies were kept in an old wooden hutch in the rear of the kitchen next to the other window that looked out back towards the cornfield and old chicken coop.
It was there on well-worn counters that my NoNo taught me how to roll out dough. Always the eager little helper, I watched intently as she floured the countertop, my eyes following the tiny particles that flew up into the air and glimmered in the light before falling softly back down. She showed me how to shape the pie crust, gently guiding my little hands with her own. The dough felt cold and squishy and kept getting stuck between my fingers. My memory is a little hazy, but I believe it was a berry pie that we made, as I recall picking wild blackberries that grew on the farm and eating them straight off the bush. I watched with amazement when she finally pulled the pie out of the oven, the sweet scent of fruit, sugar and spice heavy in the air, feeling so proud to have helped create something from scratch, and finally making the connection between the land and food.
I used to love observing my NoNo in the kitchen. Her wavy red hair, her pale skin, her A-line skirts, the laces on her saddle shoes—they're all fixtures in my memories of summers spent on the farm. She's gone now, but this copper cookie cutter was hers. And now it's mine. It's one of the only things I have of hers. I love that it was used to cut out cookies two generations before me and that I can keep the tradition going. Her hands once cut out dough-shaped hearts, and now my hands do so too—and just like that, a small piece of metal is transformed into a precious family heirloom.
I actually can't remember whether she liked orange-flavored desserts, but I do know orange was her favorite color. So these cookies were inspired by her. Gluten-free, vegan and paleo were not exactly part of the culinary vernacular in those days, but that's what I love about traditions. They uphold the past and yet evolve with the times.
ORANGE PECAN CRUMBLE COOKIES WITH DARK CHOCOLATE SAUCE (GLUTEN-FREE)
Ingredients (makes about 2 dozen cookies):
1 3/4 cups all purpose gluten-free flour
1 cup pecans, finely chopped
3/4 cup butter, softened
1/2 cup confectioners' sugar
2 tbsp orange zest
1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
1/2 tsp fresh-squeezed orange juice
1/2 cup dark chocolate chips or 8-oz dark chocolate bar (86% cacao)
Directions:
Preheat oven to 350° F. Sift flour into bowl and mix with chopped pecans. In another bowl, cream together the butter and confectioners' sugar. Add orange zest, orange juice and vanilla extract to butter and mix well. Add flour/pecans to butter mix and beat together. (The dough will appear dry and crumbly.) With hands, roll dough into large ball and press flat on parchment paper until about 1/2-inch thick. Cut out dough with cookie cutters or round glass and place on parchment or silicone-lined cookie sheet. Bake for 20-25 minutes until edges start to brown. Cool for 15-20 minutes.
Meanwhile, melt chocolate over double boiler or microwave in bowl in 30-second increments, stirring in between, until melted (about 90 seconds should do it). Drizzle chocolate over cookies and sprinkle with more orange zest (or can serve chocolate sauce on the side for dipping).Cookie recipe is gluten-free. You can easily convert these to vegan cookies by subbing vegan butter in for regular butter and using vegan chocolate to make the sauce.
Note: these cookies are quite delicate and crumbly -- like an airy shortbread. Maybe not the best ones to box up as gifts or take in a container. Best enjoyed at home!