Best Ever Sugar Cookies

Best Ever Sugar Cookies

One of the most annoying things about Christmas cookie making is having excited children who are ready to decorate their beautifully cut out Christmas cookie designs, only to pull from the oven a solid sheet of cookie, or 2 dozen indistinguishable cookie blobs. I bet this has happened to even the most experienced baker. Your kids will decorate and eat the cookies regardless, but just a touch of the fun is gone. Here are the sugar cookie and royal icing recipes that we use at the bakery. It is a little expensive to make, and slightly time consuming, but that is the trick to getting the perfect sugar cookie.

Sugar Cookie Dough:

4 cups of room temperature butter

2 and 2/3 cups of sugar
4 eggs
1 Tbs plus 1 tsp vanilla
10 cups sifted flour

 Cream together the butter and sugar then beat in the eggs. Add the vanilla and sifted flour then mix until well combined. Allow to chill 3-4 hours or overnight. Roll out ¼ inch thick. This will seem too thick, but it will make for a sturdy yet soft cookie. Preheat oven to 350 and make 8-10 minutes or until barely browned. If your cookies look “done” when you take them out of the oven, they will be over-baked. Allow the cookies to cool in the pan while you make the royal icing. Royal icing is great for cookie decorating because it will smooth itself out on the cookie. This icing recipe can be made ahead of time and refrigerated until needed.

 Royal Icing:

2 large egg whites
2 tsp fresh lemon juice
3 cups powdered sugar

Beat egg whites and lemon juice until well combined. Add sifted powdered sugar and beat on low until combined and smooth. When you lift the beater, a ribbon of icing should fall back to the bowl and then stay of the surface a few seconds before disappearing. The icing can be colored using food coloring. It can be spread or piped on to the cookies.

These are the best sugar cookies ever, try them and see! They go so fast at the bakery that the only two remaining for the picture was this simple couple. 

 

If you don’t like to bake or never have any time, swing by the bakery. We will gladly save you the time and effort……

And the Goat Saga Continues

And the Goat Saga Continues….

Goats impress me. They are so useful. They are weedeating, cashmere and mohair clad, milk, soap, cheese, and  meat producing powerhouses. More than 70% of meat and milk consumed worldwide if from goats. They were most likely the first domesticated four legged farm beast and therefore have made a lasting impact on civilization. The goat has even made its way into the vernacular. “Get your goat” originated from horse racing. Race horse owners used to put a goat in the pin to calm their prized horse. Evildoers would then take the goat from their opponents  pin prior to the race, agitating the horse, and really pushing the buttons of the owner, I would image. The opponent knew how to "get your goat." Another use is “Scapegoat”, which dates back several thousand years and has to do with the Day of Atonement (Yom Kippur). This is an ancient Hebrew day of mourning and repentance during which two goats were set aside for the ceremonies. One goat was sacrificed and on the second goat, the high priest figuratively placed all the repented sins from the townspeople. The goat was then released into the wilderness. This goat (which actually got to escape and possibly lived a better life than the sacrificed goat) took with it the blame of all in town. I could continue, but suffice it to say, I think goats are a unique animal.

Several people have been by the bakery and asked how my goats were, so I thought I would respond, and clarify. My first story was a little dated. It was the beginning of our goat journey, almost three years ago. I bought Gabby in May of 2010. To get you up to speed, she has turned out to be a fantastic goat. The billy that she kidded (see “I Bought a Pregnant Goat”) was given to a family friend. Which prompted me to buy a goat for my daughter, Rose, to be Gabby’s companion.  Rose named her goat Sally and she was able to escape our fence on a daily bases. The extra freedom made her think she was “The Boss”. She tried to head-butt Rose one afternoon and I gave her away the next day.

So again, one year after being a goat owner, I was left with one lonely goat. In January 2011 (3 days before the birth of our son, Tag), I shoved Gabby into the trunk of my Xterra and drove her down the bumpy road to my friends farm. I’m thinking that may have something to do with why I delivered Tag 3 weeks early! Gabby was bred to a hippie looking Alpine billy goat. Again, I very impatiently waited for her to kid. I assembled the usual kidding kit, praying once again, that I didn’t need the elbow length gloves to aid her. Every day, for 3 weeks, I proclaimed “Brad, I know she is in labor today, I can tell”. But nothing ever happened….until one evening in July. Again, I thought she was in labor but no one would believe me , so I ran outside with a flashlight about every 10 minutes to check on her. I should have just stayed outside but Brad convinced me that it was another false alarm. I. Missed. It. Again. This time she had twins in the amount of time it took me to run into the house and grab a camera. Cute Nubian-Alpine goats, and I knew right away I was going to keep them.  Seeing a newborn goat should be on everyones "bucket" list. Kids are pretty large, considering their mom hardly looked pregnant the previous day, and they are full of affection and curious energy. Speaking of a "bucket" list...going INSIDE Bojangles is on my daughter's bucket list (as opposed to our usual drive through trip). Aim high Rose, aim high.

In the light of morning, I realized the kids were one of each gender. The billy, who we named Billy…again, had to go. I sweet talked Brad into letting me keep the girl because Rose needed a goat and Gabby needed the company. Rose named her goat Annabelle. Annabelle and I both wanted Gabbys milk (as did the dog and cat who would stand in a line behind the milk stand waiting for a drip, or for Gabby to kick the pail over). I bought a tub of Goat formula so Rose could bottle feed Annabelle. While she fed her (not an easy task for a then four year old, but a good lesson in patients), I was able to get some milk from Gabby. I made the same delicious cheese as mentioned in the previous post. I also attempted to make goats milk soap. The batch of "soap" rotted in the wooden soap box. I stopped millking Gabby after only a few months as it was too difficult with an infant. So I did not get a second attempt at soap. I could just go buy goats milk from the store, but that would be cheating.

I am determined with this next kidding to make the best goats milk soap ever. Handmade goat soap can strengthen, moisturize and smooth your skin. I read once that the first ever soap was created by accident about 3000 BC in Babylon when fats from animal sacrifices, rain, and ashes from the fire combined to create a foamy substance. It wasn’t really a documented event, so who knows what really happened, but I envision an intelligent and resourceful woman happening upon this soap and figuring out its use.

But I digress; now it is late in the fall of 2012 and we have Gabby, Annabelle, and…..our very own billy goat, William Robert. I found William Robert online from a local breeder. He is a Toggenburg (Swiss dairy goat). I chose this breed because they are strong milkers and I chose William Robert because he has a funny patch of curly hair on his head that looks like a toupee, which he totally rocks. I bought him on a snowy October Monday and drove him home in the trunk of my Xterra while my son, Tag, sat strapped in his car seat with his head craned backwards saying “mama, it’s a goat”,  “sit down goat”, and “scoot over goat” like a broken record for the 45 minute ride. As I tried to tune him out, I wondered how I was going to get William Robert out of my Xterra and in to the goat lot. He was only 7 months old, but big and strong. Once I was parked by the goat barn, I opened the back and grabbed his collar. He bolted out of the back and I hung on as tight as possible. “If you try to win a tugging match with a billy goat, you will lose, but if you let the goat pull in circles you can at least hang on”. This was the non-comforting parting advice of William Robert’s previous owner. Was I supposed to just fly around in circles while he dislocated my arm? I wasn’t sure how long I could “hold on” but on his second circle he spotted my nannies. He screeched to a halt, puffed his chest out, curled his lip (yes, they do that) and trotted right to their gate. They regarded him with caution, but immediately started a little goat flirting game. I’ll spare you the details. It’s the end of November now, and he is currently still at my house, although he has over stayed his welcome. The nannies are no longer interested in him (my clue that they are bred) and view him as the pest who won’t leave them alone. This week, William Robert will be passed on to another goat farmer so he can do what he does best.

Once William Robert is gone, we will be back to Gabby and Annabelle until the first part of April 2013, when they should kid.  It is possible for us to have anywhere from two to six sweet little kids, if they both took. I am already impatiently awaiting their arrival. I'm researching soap making techniques, cheese recipes, and Department of Agriculture guidelines so I can use these products at the bakery. And I should also start coming up with an excuse to keep the at least one of the kids. Tag needs a goat, right?

I Bought a Pregnant Goat

I Bought a Pregnant Goat

“Hey Brad, um…I bought a pregnant goat.” This is how I artfully opened the conversation with my husband about my future endeavor in farming. And when I say “my future endeavor” what I really mean is “our future endeavor.”  Let’s just be realistic, as a business owner and mother of two small children, I cannot possibly do all the farm chores on my own. I won’t write all the details of the conversation that followed as it was lengthy and heated, but Brad built a goat fence for me a few weekends later and we moved in Gabby the Goat.

Why get a goat? I asked myself this also. Goats conjured this image in my head of a stinky, tin can eating, second-class farm animal. But I wanted one and I had no idea why. Here is what I now know about goats. Nanny goats don’t stink, only bucks. They don’t eat tin cans, although they will nibble at its paper wrapper. Their eyes, with their odd rectangular pupils used to enhance their peripheral vision, usually match their fur. As small livestock, they require less feed and pasture than say, a cow. And to top it off, their milk makes excellent soap and cheese. Hopefully I will have some for sale at the bakery by summer 2013.

So I owned a pregnant goat….not only one goat, but possibly 2, 3, or 4 goats. I had no idea when Gabby would kid because she was allowed to “run with the billy”. I had to look that up when Gabby’s previous owner mentioned it, but it means she was kept with the billy all the time. Gabby is primarily a Nubian Goat. Nubians are African goats, and unlike their seasonal Swiss counterparts, they go in to heat every month, so she could be due in 4 months or 4 days. So I waited. And I waited. And I read while I waited. I had to be ready right? I gathered as many items on the “birthing kit” listed on the Internet as possible. Paper towels..check, garbage bag…check, flashlight…check, scissors..check, elbow length gloves…check (but if I have to use them we are in HUGE trouble). I waited so long, and so impatiently, that I decided she wasn’t even pregnant. That farmer must have sold me an old nanny he didn’t want. She can’t even have babies. I don’t know anything about goats, and I know I didn’t ask the right questions, and if she has babies they’ll probably have two tails. I ranted in my head because I was afraid Brad would reiterate “G, we aren’t farmers”.

But she kidded. And she didn’t even need me or the elbow length gloves, thank goodness. It turns out domestic goats have been kidding on their own for about 10,000 years. She had a handsome black, white, and brown billy, who we named Billy, because we are so original. The “bucklings can mate at 7 weeks” phrase that I uncovered during my research was blaring through my head, so I hurried to find a home for Billy. I was simultaneously heartbroken, and terrified of my neighbors, at the incessant crying that Gabby made when she realized Billy was gone. The other problem was that I wanted milk, I had no idea how to milk a goat, and the clock was ticking now that Billy was gone. I slipped on my flip flops (mistake #1) grabbed a Mason jar (mistake #2) and headed out to Gabby (mistake #3). I tied her on a lead inside her fence and reached below her belly. As soon as I touched her she bolted, stepping on my toe and breaking the jar in one clumsy motion. The next day I tried with my boots on and with a washed out 1 gallon plastic ice cream container left over from Rose’s 3^rd birthday party. This second attempt yielded no broken glass (or toes) and I actually grabbed hold of one teat and gave a swift tug down towards the ground. Again, she bolted. I knew my time was running out so I started calling people I knew who owned goats. I knew two people. One friend loaded up his milk stand (did I really try to milk her without one?!) and came to my aid. It turns out you don’t pull down at all, poor Gabby! It’s more of a wave squeeze motion of your fingers against your palm. Brad came to my rescue again and built a milk stand and the next day I was slowly milking her, on my own, while she ate grain. I felt so Laura Ingalls Wilder! I felt so self-sufficient! I quickly walked back up to the kitchen with my warm milk. Now what? Do I drink it? Do I pasteurize it? HOW do I pasteurize it? I just couldn’t wait so I took a little sip. Not bad for warm milk! But the “goaty” flavor made me want cheese so after a few minutes on the Internet I decided on this recipe (mostly because I had what it called for). I added the garlic and herbs to the recipe, I just like the extra flavor they give:

Goat Farmer’s Cheese

¼ cup lemon juice
1 clove of fresh, crushed garlic (use only part of the clove if you don’t want a strong garlic flavor)
Fresh, coarsely chopped herbs (I like Rosemary, Oregano, and Thyme)
Coarse salt (to taste)
1 Quart of Goat milk
Cheese cloth
Strainer
Wooden spoon

 Bring the milk to a gentle boil over low heat, just to pasteurize. Remove from heat and allow to cool several minutes, then add lemon juice (don’t stir). The acidic lemon juice will allow the basic milk to curdle (it will separate into a light yellow liquid and white chunks). The liquid portion is called whey and the “chunks” are called curds. Remember “Little Miss Muffett”? Allow the milk to rest about 15 minutes. Place your strainer inside a large bowl. Position your cheese cloth over the strainer and pour the mixture into the strainer. The whey will settle in the bowl and the curds (I think it’s okay to call it cheese now!) will remain in the strainer. The cheese is very wet at this point, so the next step is to let it dry out just a bit. To do this, pull the cheese cloth up around the cheese and tie the cheese cloth to the wooden spoon. Let the spoon rest on the sides of the colander so that the cheese is suspended, allowing more whey to drip out of the cheese. Let the cheese drip 15 minutes-1 hour (depending on how dry you want the cheese). Now unwrap the cheese and fold in the garlic, herbs, and salt to taste. It tastes great with crackers or crumbled on a salad and it will last in the fridge several days in an air tight container.

I made this cheese every day for the entire summer while I milked Gabby and Rose and I ate every bit of it. Brad gave it a try, but he is much happier with cow cheese. Rose and I drank the milk (which I grew more fond of over time) and I set aside gallons to make soap (more on that in another post). I would get 1-2 quarts of milk a day from Gabby. Several events coincided that forced me to stop milking Gabby that summer. 1) Summer ended and I was still teaching school so life became hectic again in August and (2) I bought another goat.

See, I had really planned on keeping one of Gabby’s sweet baby girls…..which she didn’t have. Goats are herd animals and they need company. I returned to the farm that I purchased Gabby from and bought Rose a goat (Brad won’t care if it’s for Rose right?), which she named Sally. Sally was 3 months old and took right to Gabby. The feeling was mutual. Gabby, being the good mother that she was, and robbed so early of the right to be one, allowed Sally to nurse. And so, my milking days were over. Well, until I bred her the next year that is.

I learned a lot of things that summer. To begin with, there was just something comforting about living on a farm, even a tiny one. I didn’t really mind the extra work and I couldn’t for the life of me figure out why I had spent my first 30 years owning pets who could only purr and wag for me (no offense to my cat and dog loving friends). And in retrospect, I think if I want to enjoy another 8+ years of marital “bliss” I should probably discuss such decisions with my husband first. Oh wait, what if he says no?