Thursday, February 9, 2012


I recently made a promise to my roommate (and to myself), something I deemed a resolution to keep the peace in our otherwise perfect living situation.

Baking, as she has come to understand, is relaxing for me.  When I'm stressed, I reach for flour.  And between applying for jobs, preparing for the Bar exam, and all the #whitegirlproblems I'm too embarrassed to type, sometimes dessert tends to build up.

It also doesn't help that I don't have much of a sweet tooth.  Given the option between a cupcake and doughnuts, I want nachos.  This being the case, what isn't given away just lurks around the kitchen until the leftovers are thrown out.

This year, I was determined not to start something new until the previous batch of freshly baked whatever is divided, eaten, and digested.

Things were going smoothly until my dad's birthday request for no gifts (I have never been so sure that I was adopted).  But it's his birthday, ya know?  So even though there were all these ice cream brownie bars hanging out in the freezer, waiting for a chocolate shell, what was I left to do?

I had to at least make something, so I looked up a recipe for his consummate favorite: almond-orange biscotti.  Yes, had toThe man gave me life, people.


Biscotti literally translates to "biscuit" and is baked twice: once as a loaf, and then sliced into strips for a second go in the oven.  I'm not a big fan of brittle cookies, but it's my dad's party and he can crunch if he wants to.

The end result was exactly what good biscotti should be: golden brown, crisp but not tooth-shattering, and ripe with toasted almonds and a hint of citrus.

As it turns out, biscotti is not my roommate's cup of tea either (which, incidentally, pairs so well with it), so I don't think they really count as Full-On Baking. Which is convenient because I just got my credit card statement, and my resulting eye twitch indicates that this is in our near future.  Or, you know, a heart attack.  Whatever comes first.

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