Parmesan-Cheddar Crackers with Poppy Seeds . . . You Can't Eat Just One!

There are two very big silver-maple trees in our backyard, one of which always holds onto its leaves for dear life, as if to let them go might be painful.

But the wind that swooshed in last week, compliments of Sandy, stripped most of them off within a day or two. The yard is now cushioned like a feather bed with its leaves. You can hardly spot a patch of grass anywhere.

I know winter is on its way when that stubborn tree is almost bare. The leaves on the ground are so dried out, and so thickly layered, they positively crunch underfoot. It's like walking on a field of  saltines, or maybe thousands of Wheat Thins.

Hey . . . did someone just mention crackers?

About this recipe . . .

Adapted from Gourmet, these babies are addictive. Once your cracker-loving friends and family get samples, they'll keep coming back for more, so anticipate the demand. Make a lot.

What aspects of the recipe did I change? The original formula called for 3 parts white flour and 1 part cornmeal, but I decided to use a combo of mostly white flour, a little rye flour for added flavor, and just a wee smidgen of cornmeal so that mealy aspect would be limited. I also used Parmigiano Reggiano cheese along with some sharp cheddar, instead of using all cheddar, and I added in a couple pinches of dried thyme, well crushed, as well as a dab of garlic powder. And, I upped the baking powder slightly because, gosh, the spirit moved me.

I decided, just for the heck of it, to cut mine out with a scalloped-edge cookie cutter, but feel free to simply cut your rolled-out dough with a pastry wheel if you like, leaving far fewer dough scraps. That would also allow you to avoid transferring your unbaked crackers to another surface, one by one, as I had to do. Bake them long enough, and they'll be quite crispy and dark golden brown around the edges, which is what you want if you're going for maximum crunch.

These crackers smell ferociously good when they're baking, just so you know. (Forewarned is forearmed, theoretically at least.)

Parmesan-Cheddar Crackers with Poppy Seeds

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Makes approximately 6 dozen crackers

Ingredients:

3/4 cup and 1 tablespoon unbleached all-purpose flour
2 tablespoons rye flour
1 tablespoon well-ground yellow cornmeal
1 tablespoon poppy seeds (I used Holland Blue poppy seeds from Penzey's.)
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 cup (half of one stick) unsalted butter, cold and cut into very small chunks
1/2 cup well grated parmesan cheese (I used Parmigiano Reggiano cheese.)
1/2 cup well grated sharp or extra-sharp yellow cheddar cheese
4 to 5 tablespoons very cold water

1 egg, large
1 tablespoon water
fine sea salt

In a big bowl, whisk together the white flour, rye flour, cornmeal, poppy seeds, and baking powder.  Cut in the butter with a pastry blender, or use your fingertips, until the mixture has lots of small coarse lumps. Add in all of the grated cheese, and mix with a fork. Sprinkle 4 tablespoons of the cold water evenly over the dry ingredients, and stir with the fork until well distributed. Add in the final tablespoon of water if it still seems really dry.

Dump your dough out onto a clean work surface, and smear the dough away from you a few times to distribute the fat. Now, use a scraper to gather all the dough together again and shape it into a ball. Cut the ball in half. Press each half into a disk about 1" thick, and wrap the halves in plastic wrap. Let them rest in the fridge for an hour or so.

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

Line two baking sheets with parchment paper or silicone baking mats. (Or roll your dough directly onto the paper or onto mats, if you're not using a cookie cutter. See "Or, alternately," in the instructions below).

On a floured piece of parchment or a rolling mat or a pastry cloth, roll out one of your dough disks using a floured rolling pin (leaving the other disk refrigerated while you work with the first disk). Try to roll the dough evenly, so it's no more than 1/8th of an inch thick all over. Cut the dough with small, simply-shaped, cookie cutters of your choice and place the pieces on your prepared baking surface, lifting them with a thin offset spatula. (Or, alternately, roll your dough disk out directly onto the parchment sheet or silicone sheet upon which it will bake, and use a pastry wheel or sharp knife to slice the crackers into rows in both directions.)

Pierce each unbaked cracker with the tines of a fork; this will help the crackers lay flat and keep their shape as they bake.

In a small bowl, whisk together the egg and the 1 tablespoon of water. Use a pastry brush, or even your index finger, to lightly coat each cracker. This egg wash will make the cracker tops nicely shiny and help them to brown. 

Take a pinch of fine sea salt and sprinkle a tiny bit on each cracker (remember, the cheese in the crackers is pretty salty too, so you don't need much added salt). 

Bake the crackers until they're deeply golden on the bottom and on the edges. This might take  12 to 15 minutes or more. If you want to help ensure crispness, turn the oven off when they're done and let the crackers sit in there for another minute or two. Let the crackers cool on the baking sheets, or if the crackers are on parchment, slide that off onto a cooling rack. Keep the cooled crackers in an airtight container.

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Whole-wheat Lemon Poppy-Seed Muffins with Tangy Glaze . . .

In a humble effort to detoxify after the holiday onslaught of rich and sugary foods, it's not always easy to go cold turkey. If you're fully aware of the need to lay off heavy duty sweets and treats for a while, but you find it challenging to just back away from that lone tin of leftover Christmas cookies, you might want to ease yourself back into the swing of normal eating by making a bright healthy muffin like this one.

Only mildly sweet, these guys won't weigh you down. Made with Meyer lemons (now in season, happily--I adore them), organic yogurt, clover honey, a good portion of whole wheat flour, canola oil, orange juice, and poppy seeds--these muffins will nudge us back onto the path of nutritional sanity.

Delicately lemony and dotted with those cute, crunchy, blue-black seeds, these moist muffins are definitely wheaty but not hefty. They won't slap you in the face like a drill-sergeant with over-wheatiness. Do know what I mean? I think you do.

I adapted this recipe from one I found in a lively and charming food blog called Whole Wheat or Bust! (Hey, maybe I should start a new blog and call it Stop Eating Leftover Christmas Treats or You're Gonna Bust!)

Whole-wheat Lemon Poppy Seed Muffins with Tangy Glaze
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Makes 16 muffins.
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Line 16 muffin cups with paper liners, or generously spray cups with  vegetable spray.

In a large bowl, whisk together the following dry ingredients, then set aside:
1 and 1/2 cups whole wheat flour
1 and 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour
3 Tbsp. poppy seeds
1 and 1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 and 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/4 tsp. salt (I used regular table salt)
Zest from one Meyer lemon, or half of one regular lemon

In a medium bowl, whisk together . . .
1/4 cup honey (I used clover honey.)
1/3 cup light brown sugar, lightly packed
2 large eggs
. . . then mix in:
1 cup plain yogurt (I used Stoneyfield Organic--regular, not low-fat.)

3 Tbsp. canola oil
1/2 cup fresh-squeezed orange juice
3 Tbsp. fresh-squeezed lemon juice (I recommend you use a Meyer lemon if you can get it!)
1/2 tsp. vanilla extract
1/4 tsp. lemon extract

Make a well in the large bowl of dry ingredients, and pour the liquid ingredients into that. Fold together gently with a spatula, just to combine. Using a portion scoop, distribute the batter evenly into the prepared muffin cups. Bake for about 12 to 16 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center of the muffins comes out clean and the muffins are lightly golden. Cool them in their pan set on a rack for a couple of minutes, then remove them from the pan to finish cooling on the rack.

To glaze the muffins:
Mix together in a small bowl about 1/2 cup of confectioner's sugar, along with a couple additional tablespoons of fresh-squeezed lemon juice. Adjust the consistency as you prefer by adding more or less sugar/juice. With the muffins still on the cooling rack, set it over a cookie sheet or something similar, then brush or spoon the glaze generously atop the warm muffins. It will drip off the edges a bit, then eventually dry, and kind of soak in. It adds nice additional flavor and a little extra sweetness and moisture to the muffins.

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Leave the Bagel . . . Take the Bialy!

Like almost everyone else in the world, I've never had anything that could truly be called a genuine bialy. Oh sure, I've tried the big puffy things sold in some bakeries and grocery stores that are labeled with the name but, unsurprisingly, those are sorry pretenders. Of course, my situation in this respect is not at all unique.

Why is that so? Because bialys--the real ones--exist today only in the fading memories of a few individuals. According to food writer Mimi Sheraton, who spent years traveling from country to country in her quest to uncover and document the culinary and social history of the bialy, this is true because the specialized culture that originally produced them disappeared into the mist of time. It vanished not by choice but, sadly, because the Nazis destroyed it in 1941. Most of its surviving inhabitants dispersed, and those were the people Sheraton sought out.

In The Bialy Eaters: The Story of a Bread and a Lost World, published in 2000, Sheraton takes readers along on a seven-year trek as she journeys the globe hoping to find and speak with emigres who once enjoyed the daily treat of this fragrant, poppy-seed and onion garnished roll. Ground zero for her quest? The diminutive bread's namesake of Bialystok, Poland.

I happened upon a copy of The Bialy Eaters at the library this summer and it intrigued me. My husband had asked me more than once to try making bialys at home and, not being too familiar with them, I thought the book might lend me insight. After reading it, I was hesitant to give them a try. Described as they were, with bittersweet emotion verging on reverence, I almost felt I'd  be trespassing on hallowed ground were I to attempt them.

But my husband didn't give up asking and, last Saturday, I finally set aside time to make a batch. Except for their somewhat disappointing shape after being baked--too fat and rounded with no flat crispy section in the middle--I was pleased with them. I would, though, like to try again, and next time I'll take steps to help ensure a more authentic shape. Not that they could ever really be authentic.

The consensus seems to be that the closest thing to the original bialy--though still not quite like the original--can be found at a bakery called Kossar's in New York City. If I'm ever in the Big Apple, I'd like to stop in and give a Kossar's bialy a try. Until then, I think I can make do with homemade. I'll just have to work on my technique.

About this recipe . . . 

I looked over a few contenders before settling on Jeffrey Hamelman's bialy recipe in one of my favorite cookbooks--Bread: A Baker's Book of Techniques and Recipes. I have never had anything but good luck with the formulas in this book, so I figured it was a good bet. I tweaked the onion filling, though. Hamelman's filling doesn't call for poppy seeds, nor does he advise readers to precook the onions at all. I think the inclusion of poppy seeds, particularly, lends something essential. I also added a smidgen of ground black pepper to the mixture.

Having made these once, I don't think the bialy dough-shaping directions are fully sufficient in Hamelman's book. (Sorry, Mr. Hamelman. I make this criticism with all due respect. Aside from this, I think your book is a real treasure, and I say that from the bottom of my bread-baking heart.) A novice bialy baker needs more detail in order to avoid having the bialys puff up, and close up, into little fat donut shapes. Not only that, the directions indicate that you should let the balls of dough proof on "1/4 inch of flour," but there is no explanation of why doing this is necessary. I was dying to know. I've read a couple of theories about it on the internet since last weekend, but don't you think a cookbook author should give such explanations up front? I do. Did I miss something? I desire enlightenment when I'm baking something new, not bewilderment, and that's especially true for me when we're talking about subtle details. Give me too much info versus not enough.

The verdict . . .

Overall, the taste and texture of these bialys was wonderfully satisfying. They're chewy on the outside without the leatheriness of bagels. They have that beautiful onion scent, and what about the yummy little crunch of the poppy seeds? Oh, man. Try one right out of the toaster and butter it while it's still warm, then bite into the crunchy crust. I predict you'll take the bialy, and leave the bagel behind.

Bialys

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

This recipe makes one dozen bialys. I baked mine on a preheated, cornmeal dusted, baking stone set on the lowest rack of my oven.


5 and 1/8 cups of high gluten flour (That's about 1lb. and 6 oz.  I actually used 4 cups of high gluten flour, and 1 and 1/8 cups of bread flour because I was a little short on the high gluten. I have found high gluten flour for sale at Whole Foods Market; you can scoop your own there and buy just as much as you need.)

13 oz. water (slightly over 1 and 1/2 cups)

2 tsp. salt (I used kosher, and actually used 2 and 1/2 tsp.)

3/4 tsp. instant yeast (not active dry)


Onion and poppy seed filling:
1 medium yellow onion, finely chopped
2 Tbsp. fresh white bread crumbs
2 Tbsp. poppy seeds
ground black pepper to taste

To make the filling:
In a small pan, heat 2 Tbsp. of vegetable oil and saute the onions until softened but not translucent.
Dump the onions into a small bowl and stir together with the bread crumbs, poppy seeds, and pepper. Cover this and set it aside at room temperature for at least a couple of hours. 

To make the dough: 
In the large bowl of your mixer, with the dough hook attachment, place all of the ingredients for the dough. (You do not need to proof instant yeast. You can just toss it in there with everything else right at the start--pretty neat, huh?) Mix on the lowest speed for 3 minutes to combine. Continue mixing for about 5 or 6 more minutes; if your mixer will let you knead yeast dough on second speed, use it now. If you're confined to using first speed for all kneading (as I am with my 6 quart KitchenAid mixer, per their dire warnings regarding this kind of thing), that's okay too. 

The dough should be a dense springy mass when you're done, tacky but not sticky. (And, if you're into taking your dough's temperature, Hamelman says it should be about 76 degrees Fahrenheit at this point.)  

Put the dough in a bowl that's been sprayed with vegetable spray or lightly greased with vegetable shortening. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and cover that with a dish towel. 

Let the dough rise at warm room temperature for two hours total, but one hour into the rising time, uncover it, put it on a floured surface and quickly give it a quick stretch and fold. It doesn't need any more than that at this point so don't overhandle. Put it back in the bowl, cover it again, and let it continue rising. 


Divide the risen dough into 3 oz. pieces (very helpful to have a food scale on hand for this, but if you don't have one just try to divide it evenly into 12 pieces). Round each piece tightly into a smooth ball, creating a surface tension. Seam side down, place the balls onto baking sheets that have been covered with 1/4 inch of flour. Then cover the balls lightly with plastic that's been sprayed or greased so it won't stick to the dough, and cover that with a dish towel. Let the dough proof fully (ie., have its final rise), on the sheets for 1 and 1/2 hours. 

Begin preheating your oven and baking stone at 480 degrees (yes, 480) at least half an hour before you'll need to bake. You want it to be completely hot when the dough goes in.


To shape the balls in preparation for baking, take each one in your hand and press both thumbs into its center, creating an indented hollow; don't make a hole through the dough. Rotate the ball of dough while turning it with your thumbs, stretching the middle so it ends up looking like a plate with a thick rounded rim. Make the bottom dough membrane a couple of inches wide, at least, and don't be shy about this. You want the bialy to bake up with a thin crisp middle section (do as I say, not as I did when I made these the first time!). 

Place the shaped pieces of dough onto your cornmeal-dusted baker's peel (the thing you'll use to slide them onto your baking stone, if you're using one). Fill each one with at least one rounded teaspoon (more if you prefer) of the onion filling. Spread a bit of it up the sides if you like, getting some of the poppy seeds on the doughy rim. 

Slide the filled dough pieces onto the preheated stone. Bake for 8 to 10 minutes. Look for bialys that are lighly golden, not overbaked or dried out. Take them out as soon as they're done, and enjoy!

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Lemon Yellow and Holland Blue: Crunchy Lemon Poppy Seed Cookies . . .

Have you ever looked closely at poppy seeds? I mean really closely? They're actually not black, but an unusually appealing shade of grayish blue. And they're not essentially tasteless, as they've often seemed to me in the past. Think about it . . . you're munching a deli sandwich made with a poppy seed roll on your lunch hour; do you even have the time or inclination to truly taste the poppy seeds, much less admire their color, or to pay them any mind at all? I thought not. The only reaction you might have to them is annoyance when one becomes stuck in your teeth, right?

In the U.S. at least, they go mostly unnoticed and get little respect. Based on my now decades-long perusal of baking cookbooks, you're far more likely to see them used in European recipes. But that's too bad, because heaven knows they're no Johnny-come-lately to the pantry. In comparison to most of the things we throw into our everyday American chow, they're an old and distinguished soul. Native to Asia, the tiny dark seeds are rich in history. They've been used medicinally for centuries. In ancient cultures they were valued for metaphysical, as well as practical, properties. Luckily for us, they willingly lend their esoteric magic to baked goods.

Whoever first had the idea to combine the flavor of lemon with poppy seeds was certainly on the right track. The toasted-nutty flavor of poppy seeds--for that is how they taste when we pay attention--is pretty subtle. Diminutive seeds that they are, they simply don't blow their own horn. Combining them with another distinct flavor is almost always a good idea, and they just cohabit so nicely with lemon.

Thus we have today's recipe for lemon poppy seed cookies. Now, if you don't like crunchy cookies, and I mean really crunchy cookies, you probably won't write home about these babies. I'm sure there are more delicate, fragile cookies that could be made beautifully with lemon and poppy seeds, this just doesn't happen to be one of them. This is the kind of cookie you can dunk in a cup of hot tea knowing that it won't immediately fall apart and dissolve, the kind of cookie you can nibble on slowly, savoring the small chewy seeds and the nice citrus aspect. It's like a very firm shortbread. Firm firm.

Not convinced? Are you worried about those opium rumors? Have you been watching the Seinfeld rerun where Elaine eats a lemon poppy seed muffin, and frets because she thinks it caused her to flunk a drug test at work? Well, not to worry. The poppy seeds used in our food (as opposed to whatever it was Elaine may have ingested) are mature seeds, not the unripe seeds that contain the milky stuff from which opium can be extracted. It's the mature seeds we're baking with, and the best ones come from Holland. So while you might very well become a cookie junkie (and there are support groups to help you with that), chances are slim and none that you'll become an opium addict from using poppy seeds in your pastry.

So, are you game?

Okay, good. Grab your car keys and go buy some premium Holland Blue poppy seeds. Then go home and make some cookies!


Crunchy Lemon Poppy Seed Cookies

Preheat oven to 325 degrees. Line a couple of cookie sheets with parchment paper or Silpats.

3 cups All Purpose flour, bleached
1/2 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. cream of tartar
1/8 tsp. salt
1/2 cup butter, unsalted and softened
1/2 cup vegetable shortening
1 cup granulated sugar
1 large egg
1 tsp. vanilla extract
1 tsp. lemon extract
2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice
1 and 1/2 tsp. fresh grated lemon zest
2 and 1/2 Tbsp. high quality poppy seeds such as Holland Blue*

In a bowl, measure and whisk together the flour, baking soda, cream of tartar, and salt. Set aside.

In a large mixer bowl fitted with the paddle attachment, mix together on medium speed the butter, shortening, and sugar until fluffy (about two minutes). Add in the vanilla and lemon extracts, the lemon juice, and the lemon zest; mix until combined.

On the lowest speed, or by hand, gradually mix in about one third of the dry ingredients--except for the poppy seeds.

After you've mixed in about one third of the dry ingredients, pour in all the poppy seeds, mix those in, and then continue adding in the rest of the flour gradually. Don't overmix.

Chill the dough in the fridge or freezer for at least 20 minutes. (Good idea to chill your cookie sheets in the freezer or fridge also, if you can manage it.) After the dough is cold, portion them onto the sheets. I used a No. 50 sccop for these; that holds about 1 and 1/4 Tbsp. Place the cookies about two inches apart.


Put a few tablespoons of sugar in a shallow bowl. Find a small drinking glass that's completely smooth on the bottom; dampen the bottom and dip it in the sugar, then use that to press down the cookies, as pictured. For each cookie, dip the glass again in the sugar.


Bake the cookies on an upper rack in your oven for approximately 10 to 12 minutes, just until the bottoms are lightly golden. If you're brave and you want super crunchy cookies, bake them a couple of minutes longer.


Let them cool on a rack . . . and then feel free to start crunching.

(Oh, and before I forget, I wanted to mention that poppy seeds are considered fairly perishable, so take note bakers. Some sources even suggest keeping them in the freezer.)



Recipe Full Disclosure: This recipe derives in part from the recipe for "Tangy Lemon Butter Cookies" in George Geary's The Complete Baking Cookbook. I changed the formula by adding in the poppy seeds, increasing the salt slightly, using butter and shortening instead of butter and oil, adding in lemon juice, increasing the amounts of vanilla and lemon extracts, and halving the amount of baking soda to make the cookies crunchier and more shortbread-like.

*I bought my Holland Blue seeds at a Penzey's spice store.


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