The Smart Cookie (in which The Girl tries her hand at holiday baking)
by Lorette C. Luzajic

Not your typical baking supply

After the Merry Masala baking class Tuesday evening, it’s clearer than ever that I’ll never be a pastry chef. The mother-daughter team of Arvinda and Preena Chauhan (see www.arvindas.com) put on the Merry Masala Cookie Exchange, proving that variety is the spice of life, as 25 of us learned that exotic Indian flavours go way beyond rice and lamb vindaloo, and that curry goes nicely into… cookies.

The last time I tried baking, the 'Cream Cheese Frosted Pumpkin Cake' was more like 'Brick of Squash'. So I didn’t have high hopes beyond merrymaking, but thankfully others on my team had capable hands. Soon the ovens were full of Mango Curry Snow Crescents, Holiday Chai Coconut Ladoos, and Crunchy Pistachio Cranberry Chocolate Chai Biscotti. There’s no way anything would have turned out if I tried following the instructions without the help of my patient team.

I was invited to try my hand at cookie curry by the wonderfully dynamic food-maven Mary Luz Mejia (see www.maryluzmejia.com). A Columbian-Canadian, Mary Luz writes food stories for everything from Canadian Living to Globe and Mail to Saveur to Edible Toronto, and she also directs and produces TV documentaries about food for just about every channel. She has interviewed dozens of chef celebs, the best in the biz. But the real reason I’m pistachio green with envy is because Mary Luz’s work brought her together with her idol and mine, writer Isabel Allende. If you’ve got lovers of literature on the list you’re making and checking twice, make sure it includes Allende’s unforgettable South American sagas. They are described as “magical realism,” and in truth, Isabel gives the genre’s master, Gabriel Garcia Marquez a run for his money in House of Spirits, or Infinite Plan. Plus, every mother, sister, and daughter needs a copy of Aphrodite: a Memoir of the Senses. It’s a cookbook, an art book, and a love affair with food. But as usual, I digress…

When Mary Luz isn’t busy writing, producing, cooking, eating, and reading, she’s also helping to bring food lovers together for unusual events. As part of the Sizzling Communications team, she brought this group of would-be bakers together to experience tidings of comfort and joy with Arvinda’s Artisanal Spices. Preena Chauhan and her brother, Paresh, have created the line of Indian seasonings based on Mom Arvinda’s famous cooking classes. The secret to fine Indian-spiced food is in layering flavours, Preena explained, and the art takes practice and patience even for the- ahem- seasoned chef. By creating a delectable line of spice mixes, the family has taken the guesswork (and the mistakes) out of blending.

If you haven’t had the joy of Arvinda’s Artisanal spices, then commit right now to having yourself a merry masala Christmas. No additives, no cheap fillers- nothing but the most perfect measures of fragrant cardamom, anise, garlic, cloves, ginger and beyond. You can pick these up at Nella Cucina, (www.nellacucina.ca) which roughly translates into “utensil heaven.” (This famous family kitchen store hosted our cookie class.) Resident chef and culinary director, Joanne Lusted, gave us safety tips before Preena taught us how to make dozens of spicy treats. While the cookies baked, we were let loose into the two-storey cooking supply paradise to look at gorgeous knives, pink stem-less wine glasses, and other carefully curated culinary beauty. Rossy Earle, a Panamanian-Canadian chef specializing in Latin cooking, told me she came to the class to “try something different, find a twist on traditional cookies.” As a spice lover, she was most interested in “checking out and trying the Arvinda’s line of spices.” Everyone from our table loved them so much that we kept opening the sample tins over and over. Rossy and I thought we should make perfume out of the Chai Masala.

I stopped short of dousing myself in the spice blends, but the evening closed with a round of Chai Masala Hot Chocolate. And while the icing on the cake – or cookie, as it were- was the citrusy frosting on the Chai Spice Sugar Cookies, that hot chocolate will be the crown jewel of all my future holidays. The Chai or Garam Masala blend gorgeously with milk and the finest cocoa powder, sweetened to taste. I made this at home with my own special peppermint twist, using candy canes as stir sticks, to test drive some kid-friendly fun for my nephews. Very merry indeedy…

Holiday Chai Spice Ladoos (Snowballs)

A “ladoo” is a popular Indian sweet, rolled into balls and served during Indian festivals. This is a modern holiday version of a ladoo which contains mixed peeled fruit, coconut, raisins and the spicy flavours of Masala Chai.

Yield = 45 pieces

Ingredients:
¾ cup organic peanut butter, crunchy
¾ cup coconut, dried and unsweetened + extra ½ cup for dusting
½ cup dried cranberries
½ cup almonds, coarsely chopped
¼ cup raisins
¼ cup mixed peel
¼ cup icing sugar
¼ cup raw honey
2 tbsp rum
2 tbsp ginger powder
2 tsp Arvinda’s Chai Masala

Method of Preparation:
In a small bowl soak raisins in rum. Set aside.

In a medium bowl add peanut butter and mix well. If consistency is stiff slightly warm up in microwave or on stovetop.

Mix in remaining ingredients and combine. Fold in raisins. Chill in refrigerator for 15-20 minutes. Roll into balls (slightly smaller than walnut size).

Place remaining coconut in a small bowl. Dust balls with coconut to garnish. Store in refrigerator.

Click here for an easy-to-print version of this recipe.

Author, Artist, Poet Lorette C. Luzajic's website is www.thegirlcanwrite.net. Browse her books at Amazon.ca

The Real Dish...

You may have seen her at the last wine tasting- it was hard to miss her. She was the only one in sneakers and jeans, jeans she was busting out of, bangles jangling as she scarfed back corned beef and pickles, toasting everyone who walked by: "Praise the Lord and pass the Chardonnay!"

Yeah, that was me. I confess I’m a little unrefined. I hardly know my pate or canapés from canopies (but I can spell hors d’oeuvres without looking it up.) I speak locavore, but that’s only because I was born and bred in Niagara, and the celebrated vino runs through my veins. I’m not remotely comfortable in restaurants with truffle glace and white linen napkins and and white jazz. Oh, I don’t mind the odd balsamic reduction, don’t get me wrong- but I’m more likely to order jalapeño mayo and eat the yam frites with my fingers. I can’t dine without spilling Dijon on my knock-off Pucci scarf and knocking over the Perrier. And my editor would be shocked to see that most of the essential utensils are missing from my pauper’s kitchen, where I can barely fit the dish rack.

But I’m passionate about food. Like most of my habits, good and bad, I do it to excess. That’s just the kind of girl I am. Over the top, with zany, unapologetic appetites. I’m voracious to learn about food. I write regularly about eating, and I resurrected my body from lifelong illness by learning all I could about nutrition. I’m an enthusiastic advocate of eat to live, live to eat. And I’m fun!

I’ve got seventy spices in my crammed cupboard and create soul food from all over the world. I make food that nourishes the body and proclaims my love for life. And I’ll bet my sole ladle that I’m not the only foodie or reader who feels most at home in dingy hole in the wall diners. And I’ll bet my prize wooden salad bowl that the rest of you would love to try some of Toronto’s ethnic adventures, but just aren’t sure how to get past the unfamiliar menu or customs, or your fear of grime. So, I’ll take you there.

Once in a while I pull out my French cooking school manual, to pay homage to the gourmet universe. But then I thaw out a rack of chicken thighs- forget the boneless, skinless crock we’ve been force-fed- I cook with skin! And I pour on sweet paprika from Croatia, bought at the Eastern European deli on Pape, with salt and yogurt. And I chop up a few red onions and toss them in red wine and the dried up piece of Genoa salami in the far corner of the fridge.

Oh, yes, I can drop six dollars on one bite of truffle hazelnut crème chocolat - generally, I have to, because I’m celiac and avoid soy like the plague, so most cheap chocolate bars are off limits. But I can stretch that six bucks into a spectacular symphony of flavour for two, or spend ten discovering the joys of Kenyan corn bread or raw meat from Ethiopia. In Toronto, there’s a whole underworld of unsung gourmet, diners with menus in Swahili and faded Formica tableaus that translate into mind-bending flavour. Let me show you the real dish.

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51 writers curated by Lorette C. Luzajik

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