high-bar baking

I’m a proponent of the subtle. Now that I’ve aged a little, at least.

Ok, not my personality. At all. But my baked goods. I want it done right, but I don’t need it overdone. Nothing too sweet, too cloying, too assertive. You don’t never seven flavours, and you don’t need enough sugar to leave a film on my teeth. I’m here for the simple, done well. 

But every now and again, I shed the veneer of adulthood and have a little fun. Sometimes, more is more. 

I didn’t really think that snickerdoodles needed to have browned butter in them. Surely there’s enough going on already, right? I have phenomenal snickerdoodle recipes (Sarah, you’re a gem), and I’m not abandoning them anytime soon. But now I’ve come around. There is a place for browned butter in these bad boys too. 

I used Maria Lichty’s recipe, but I did omit the caramel. I know that I just said more is more, but I have my limits. I’m a traditionalist, what can I say? It just feels like it would be way too sweet. And I wasn’t in the mood for that much shaping or stickiness. I was happy with these. I guess that’s the goal, huh? 

I tried using 136g flour per cup, and that worked out nicely. I also used regular yogurt instead of Greek, because it’s what I had. There were no resultant disasters. 

Browned butter is such a cheat code, guys. I really recommend that you try it. You’ve got to stir it not infrequently while all the water’s boiling off. If you’re going to get distracted, that’s the time; as long as you can hear it going, you’re safe from burning. But when it starts to quiet down, you’ve got to plant yourself and not let it sit still for too long. You want the milk solids to brown but not burn, and they’re tricksy Hobbits that love to stick to the bottom of the pan. I’ve done it with a whisk, but my preferred weapon is a heatproof rubber spatula for the bottom-and-edge scraping. Turn down the heat, turn up your patience, and let the process unfold. 

And in the words of Alison Roman: “Take it there. Take it very there.” You didn’t put this pan on the stove to melt the butter. You put it there to brown it. Go two shades darker than you’re comfortable with. That’s where the magic is.

Metaphor, anyone?