Ok, here goes- I dislike cookies. Like I wouldn’t eat it even if I had to please a pretty pushy hostess. You ask, ok so what in the world compelled me to bake cookies of all things?
You see, it hadn’t been a charming day at all and I desperately needed a pick-me-up. So I chanced upon this cookie recipe which looked easy. Like really easy. Fast forward thirty minutes, and there I am dumping a big melted brown goo of butter into the trash. They reminded me of this hilarious Pinterest fail except now that it had happened to me it wasn’t all that funny anymore.
Now, we can’t let them double crossing cookies get away with it, can we?
Hello ? Dorie Greenspan ? Ever since I bought this book of hers, she’s been my friend in the kitchen. You could tell by looking at the number of pages that have freed themselves off the binding , that her book is the one I reach out for during a baking SOS.
Ok, so when I found this cookie recipe carrying an unusual name and having a renowned Parisian pastry chef as its creator, I was intrigued. Originally created by Pierre Hermes for a bakery called Korova, these were initially named as Korova cookies. But when Dorie Greenspan’s neighbour told her that the cookies were so delightful that a daily dose of these would ensure planetary peace and happiness , the cookies got rechristened as World Peace Cookies.
These fall under the category of slice and bake cookies. Dorie warns us that the dough will be crumbly when you slice, but you just need to gather the fallen pieces and stick em together. The recipe says to bake for exact 12 minutes, and even though it does mention that the cookie will not look done, I had a moment of panic when I pulled out a batch of cookies which when I touched felt just like puffed up raw cake batter. I crossed my fingers, and hoped that they would continue to bake while being cooled. Anyways , some ten minutes later I found these adorable warm cookies waiting for me to munch into! This is why I love baking- even though the uncertainty of the outcome is slightly nerve wracking, there’s almost always a piece of deliciousness waiting for you at the other end. Do you feel the same ? Or am I alone here?
The texture of the cookie is crumbly but chewy. It’s pretty sweet and chocolatey, and I feel any sharply contrasting flavour added in moderation would go well with it. Hmmm sea salt(as in the recipe), heat (chilli ), peanut butter (obviously), bitter dark chocolate, tangy citrus (orange peel), crunchy salted nuts, caramel bits…..endless possibilities!
You couldn’t go wrong with this recipe. Except if you over bake it. Also you could make the dough , chill it , and the next day just when you feel like treating yourself , slice a few or maybe the whole log , and within 20 minutes you’ll be in cookie heaven.
Waaah…all my life so many cookies crossed my path only to be blindly jilted and I am sure they must have all tasted wonderful. Regret is the most helpless of all human feelings, don’t you think? There’s so little you can do to undo a previous action/inaction. Hmmm… maybe I could make up for it by going overboard with baking cookies? Yes, that’s what’s gotta be done!
Enjoy this blessed cookie folks. It’s the brainchild of a genius called Pierre Hermes.
World Peace Cookies
Makes about 36 cookies ( I got 24 medium sized cookies)
1 1/4 cups (175 grams) all purpose flour
1/3 cup (30 grams) unsweetened cocoa powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1 stick plus 3 tablespoons (150 grams) unsalted butter, room temperature
2/3 cup (120 grams) packed light brown sugar
1/4 cup (50 grams) granulated sugar
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel or 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
5 ounces (150 grams) bittersweet chocolate, chopped into chips (no pieces larger than 1/3 inch), or a generous 3/4 cup store -bought mini chocolate chips
1. Sift the flour, cocoa and baking soda together.*
2. Working with a stand mixer, or with a hand mixer, beat the butter, both sugars and salt till light and creamy. Beat in the vanilla extract now.
3. Turn off mixer. Pour in the dry ingredients , cover the bowl with a kitchen towel to prevent flour from flying all over the place and pulse at low speed around 5 times, a second or two at time. Take a peek- if there’s still some flour left to be mixed, pulse a couple of times more. If not remove the towel and mix at low speed for around 30 seconds more, just until the flour disappears into the dough. For the best texture, beat the mixture as little as possible once the flour is added and don’t worry if the dough looks a little crumbly. Toss in the chocolate pieces and mix only to incorporate.
4. Turn the dough into a work surface, gather it together and divide it into two. Working with one half at a time, shape the dough into logs that are 1 1/2 inches in diameter. Wrap the logs in plastic wrap and refrigerate them for at least 3 hours. ( the dough can be refrigerated for 3 days or frozen for upto 2 months. If you have frozen them, you needn’t defrost them before baking. Just slice them into cookies and bake them one minute longer)
5. Centre a rack in the oven and preheat oven to 325 F. Line two baking sheets with parchment or silicone mats.
6. Using a sharp thin knife, slice the logs into 1/2 inch rounds. ( The logs will crumble while you slice, don’t be concerned just squeeze the bits back into each cookie)
7. Arrange the cookies on the baking tray, leaving about 1 inch distance between each cookie.
8. Bake the cookies one sheet at a time for 12 minutes. They won’t look done nor will they be firm,but that’s just the way they should be. Transfer the baking sheet to a cookie rack, and let them rest until they are only just warm , at which point you can serve them , or let them reach room temperature.
* if measuring by volume, it’s important to measure the flour and cocoa as follows- stir the flour briefly, spoon into measuring cup heaped above the rim, then level with a knife or spatula. If you dip the measuring cup into the container , you will have more flour and cocoa resulting in a drier, crumblier and more difficult dough.
Recipe adapted from Baking from my home to yours, by Dorie Greenspan