Les Pavés: The Cookie Wars Continue
Back before Covid times, the nation once spent a week debating whether a woman who didn’t want to stay home and bake cookies was fit to be the First Lady. Then that non-baker had the nerve to really get out of the house! She ran for president in 2016 and though she had major qualifications—first female partner in her law firm, Senator from New York, Secretary of State—people still couldn’t get over her disdain for cookie-baking. They said that she lacked warmth. So they elected a man with no qualifications at all—but a deep love of Oreos, according to Business Insider.
Nearly thirty years after the cookie controversy I’m still wondering why she had to disparage the cookie bakers; Wasn’t feminism supposed to mean that we were no longer defined by narrow gender roles? Women could be astronauts and men could stay home and take care of the kids, right? Clearly, the notion that baking cookies wasn’t legit work did not sit well with me. Of course, I got over it by the time she lost the election. I wept. Then I put on my pussy ears and took to the streets.
Growing up in the same era as Hillary, I also considered myself a feminist. Ever since I sauntered into a small room at City College in 1969, New York, with a sign on the door saying Women’s Liberation Society, I was in. The great unfairness regarding women’s place in society was something I felt in my bones. Those were heady years. I put on my Converse and marched defiantly down Fifth Avenue behind Gloria Steinem and Flo Kennedy, picketed for the ERA, and dressed only in T-shirts and jeans for a few years. Bras were history.
But symbols changed. By the time I started working in the publishing industry in 1972 New York, not only was I wearing a bra, I was putting on a tailored business suit, buttoning up my silk blouse complete with pussy bow, and donning sensible shoes to march into the office and become an executive. Except for the occasional wild night at the disco, I was a serious career person. A big fluffy dress, marriage and children were not on the agenda.
Then my thirties happened. Boom! By the time I came home from the hospital with my first baby, I was planning to collect vintage cookie jars. And fill them with cookies made with my own two hands! I wanted to have it all—a high powered career and quality time with my kids. I also yearned for an occasional shower alone, but that came a few years later.
Les Pavés out of the pan.
As the kids grew older, I came up with a novel solution to the work/life dilemma. I would work from home as a professional food writer and book packager, and turn into supermom when the kids would come home. If you’ve tried this during Covid, you know it’s not so easy.
It was made harder then because, in the days before chefs became sexy, my career choice did not earn me lots of respect in our liberal Los Angeles community. A more enlightened feminist writer once informed me that she didn’t like to plan meals, shop, or cook dinner. “Why should I think about a lamb chop,” she asked, cocking her eyebrow, “when I’m busy writing?” I was gob-smacked. You mean you don’t start your day planning your dinner? I thought. Ce n’est pas possible!
Even the rabbi at our liberal Hollywood temple was judgmental. When he introduced my husband and me to the congregation at Joe’s Bar Mitzvah, he started with my husband. “Joe’s father Ted I respect enormously. He is an important journalist who covers issues of criminal justice for the Los Angeles Times. Stand up and give him a round of applause for his contributions to the community.”
“And the mother?” he said with a sigh. “She writes recipes,” shrugging his shoulders as if to say “Isn’t she cute, with her fake job?” I was never his biggest fan.
Bill looked like a cookie man.
Truth be told, climbing any career ladder is not easy. Whipping egg whites and making perfect caramel may be fun, but all the people you have to climb over to make a career happen don’t exactly clear a path. Does Martha Stewart look like someone who graciously invites competitors over for tea? And Hillary, is the public service of say a lawyer really any more important than that of someone who bakes cakes and administers quick doses of happiness?
When you’re working and raising children, it helps to have some very easy recipes in your back pocket. Pavés, named for French cobblestones, don’t even need baking. You just melt a bunch of chocolate, add some crunchy bits, spread in a pan and wait for the whole thing to chill. The result is more like a rich, cold, creamy candy bar, than a cookie. I’m certain that even Hillary would like them; they’re that super fast.
Joe had really talked these up to Piper so she was excited when we started setting up that morning. Meanwhile, he was so busy remembering his childhood that he forgot to buy an ingredient. No worries. In the time it took us to measure and chop the chocolate, chop the nuts, and crush the shortbreads with a meat pounder, he was back with the missing milk chocolate.
When I tried to sell these pure chocolate bars to Piper as a healthy cookie, she shot me back a skeptical look. “No sugar added!” I exclaimed. “No eggs, and very little butter. Besides, did you know that some people believe that dark chocolate is good for you?”
“Sure, Grandma,” she said, meticulously licking every last bit of chocolate off her spoon.
That girl is so diplomatic, I thought, she really ought to run for president one day. I just hope she remembers to be kind to the cookie-bakers who came before her, and to develop a thick skin.
RECIPE
Chocolate Pavés
½ stick butter
10 ounces milk chocolate, chopped
1 ¼ cups crushed shortbreads or butter cookies, about 6 Walkers shortbreads
½ cup finely chopped almonds with skins
8 ounces semisweet chocolate, roughly chopped
1 cup heavy cream, cold
2 Tbsps Dutch cocoa
Line a 9-inch square cake pan with 2 sheets of parchment paper, overhanging four sides about 2-inches.
In a medium heavy saucepan, melt butter over low heat. Add milk chocolate and slowly stir until chocolate is melted and smooth. Off the heat, add cookie crumbs and nuts. Stir with a mixing spoon until the mixture looks like moist soil. Spread evenly in the prepared pan, using a small spatula or butter knife to evenly press out to the corners. Place in the refrigerator and chill to set, about 1 hour.
Later, in the top of a double boiler, melt the semisweet chocolate, stirring to keep smooth. Remove from heat and set aside.
In a clean bowl, with a balloon whisk, whip the cream until thick enough to hold a shape, about 4 minutes on high speed. Pour the melted chocolate into the cream and gently fold by hand until the white disappears.
Remove the chilled pan, and spread the whipped chocolate evenly over the cold, set layer. Smooth the top to evenly cover and return to the refrigerator to chill about 2 hours.
To serve, sprinkle cocoa evenly over the top. Using the overhanging paper, lift and remove the chocolate slab and transfer to a cutting board. Using a long bread knife, slice the slab into 1-inch slices. Then cut the other way to make small bars or squares. Store in the refrigerator.
