On Baking Biscotti (This essay—Short and Sweet!)

My passion for baking biscotti started about 25 years ago. I was just beginning to have an interest in writing and spending hours reading through piles of books on how to go about doing it. And then one day, in one of these books—I wish I could remember which one—I came across a recipe for chocolate and orange biscotti. The author’s purpose for including the recipe, was that she felt writers needed to take breaks between writing—get up and stretch a bit—and because these cookies were “twice-baked”—the literal Italian translation of biscotti—one would have to get up at least twice to attend to their baking. What insight and vision on her part, to offer those who sit for hours, an opportunity for movement.

I struggled with the first batches of biscotti. The dough wouldn’t easily roll into logs.  It preferred to stick to the board or my hands. But after some time, I got the hang of it, and found these cookies to be delicious. The author was correct in her thinking, not only could I get up to stretch after sitting for hours, but I found that when I stepped away from the work after a serious writing work out, ideas began to magically flow into my head as I mixed and rolled the dough and chopped up the fruit and nuts. I had noticed that phenomenon on earlier occasions when I would work in the morning, and afterwards drive down Rt. 1 to Princeton to teach art classes, that ideas started to appear from nowhere. I would have to pull over on the highway to write them down on anything at hand—receipts, library books, index cards, even with pen on my arm! This author, (how I wish I could remember who she was—I think Ursula Le Guin) was acquainted with the belief that the mind needed space to wander. These cookies were an invitation to get up from my sofa. If I had gotten myself into a knot over a sentence or paragraph, the movement towards the kitchen counter, could untangle it. Stepping away from my work to take the rolls of biscotti out of the oven, cool and eventually slice them, also gave me permission to procrastinate. Once I got up, I wouldn’t necessarily return to my desk right away. I might wander about the house and find something interesting to distract me.

After you roll the dough into two logs and bake them at 350 degrees for 35 minutes, you cool them for another half an hour, then cut them into 1/4 inch slices and bake them on one side for eight minutes and then on the other side for another eight minutes. My guy recently suggested standing the slices upwards on the cookie sheet, and now I bake the slices for 14 minutes forgoing the turning part. One less step to worry about, but still requiring me to get up twice from my seat and saving me from writer/artist paralysis. Once I got the feeling of the dough in my hands, and was able to make them without looking at a recipe, I couldn’t stop.

Like with anything else I delve into, I like to change things up—in writing, I have gone back and forth from memoir, to poetry, to essay, to humor. Often I will do many of these at the same time. Similarly, I like to vary my biscottis and play with different flours—almond, whole wheat, corn—different nuts—almond, hazelnuts, walnuts, pistachio—and different fruits—apricots, dates, figs, raisins. Sometimes I will make one of the logs vanilla and add chocolate or coffee to the other. I’m also crazy about using lemon, orange and lime zest which adds a concentrated burst of citrusy flavors without changing the texture the way fruit juice might. Instead of vanilla, I will often use a tablespoon of Grand Mariner or any alcohol we have sitting in the cabinet. I did it once because we ran out of vanilla! It’s one of my secrets, so don’t tell anyone! Following Christmas, I used the leftover chopped whiskey soaked dry fruit for a batch, and oh my, they were scrumptious—fruit cake biscotti! 

It is always interesting to see who likes what. Some of friends prefer the biscotti to be harder and crunchier. I try not to make them too hard because I don’t want to be responsible for breaking anyone’s tooth which once happened to someone near and dear to my heart. Luckily for me, he was very gracious about it. For softer biscotti, you can just reduce the second baking time. I can’t tell you how many pounds of butter and bricks of one pound dark bitter Belgium chocolate from Trader Joes and oranges I have gone through in all of these years. I should have kept a record. I should also have kept a record of how many boxes of computer ink and pounds of computer paper I have used up for my writing. Following your passions are not inexpensive!

In Roman times, 700 years ago, biscotti were convenience food for travelers, not the pleasurable treat for diners they are today. Unleavened, finger shaped wafers were baked first to cook them through, then a second time to dry them out so they were durable for travel and nourishment for long journeys. Pliny boasted that they could be edible for centuries. Mine usually don’t last more than a few days before they are eaten, so I’m not sure how long they would be good for! Mandelbrot, or almond bread in English, is the Jewish version of biscotti—also twice-baked but softer, usually smaller and moister due to the added fats.

Biscotti make for great gifts to bring over for a dinner invitation. They are less crumbly than most cookies and look very pretty wrapped in cellophane with a silk bow. They are delicious taken with either coffee, especially expresso or wine and dessert wines. Most everyone enjoys them. I got to thinking that if all through these years, I had charged what they charge in a cafe for a biscotti, I would be rolling in dough! Pun intended! My art students are quite enthusiastic about them, and it may be the main reason they keep signing up for my classes. My private students greet me at the front door and then instead of heading to the studio, head to my kitchen counter where they find the box with the red lid where they know the biscotti are hiding. Then they wait patiently for their coffee.

My art students are not the only ones getting spoiled. The other day, I put out home baked rhubarb strawberry cobbler and a pint of ice cream on the table for dessert.  

“That’s so nice” my guy answered. “But you forgot the biscotti!”

May I suggest the book, Biscotti, by Mona Talbot and Mirella Misenti for your reading and baking pleasure.

---