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Anise Biscotti -- Crispy for Five Hundred

Week five hundred. The numbers keep climbing. Ten years of writing, cooking, documenting. Five hundred weeks of sambar. Anaya is ten. She entered a young writers' competition with a story called 'The Generous Pinch' — about a grandmother who measures with her hands and a granddaughter who measures with her heart. The story won second place. Second place. Her first published work. At ten. The girl who reached for the book at the Aksharabhyasam is reaching for it again. Rohan is six, finishing first grade. The ADHD is managed. He reads reluctantly but builds obsessively — Lego sets, cardboard forts, a 'robot' made from toilet paper rolls that he insists is functional. The mechanical engineer emerges. I teach at Rutgers two days, work at the clinic three. The balance that took twenty years to find holds, imperfectly, the way all balance holds. Amma is alive. That's the report now. Not 'how is she' but 'she's alive.' The metrics have simplified to the most basic: alive, comfortable, eating (pureed), sleeping, breathing. I visit. I bring food. The containers. The labels. The sambar that has traveled from her kitchen to mine to her room, the longest journey a recipe has ever taken. Five hundred weeks. The sambar continues. I made dosa for the milestone. Because dosa is what I make when the calendar turns. The grinder roars. The batter spreads. The dosa crisps. Five hundred weeks and the dosa is still crispy.

Dosa was the milestone food — it always is — but after the batter had been ground and the iron had cooled, I wanted something that could sit on the counter and last a few days, the way a five-hundred-week moment deserves to linger. Biscotti is twice-baked, which has always felt right to me: you commit, you pull back, you commit again. Anise because Amma used to keep fennel seeds in a small steel bowl by the stove, and the two smells live in the same part of my memory. These are for the week that kept going.

Anise Biscotti

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr 5 min | Servings: 30 biscotti

Ingredients

  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1 cup granulated sugar
  • 1 tsp baking powder
  • 1/4 tsp salt
  • 3 large eggs
  • 2 tsp anise extract
  • 1/2 tsp pure vanilla extract
  • 1 tbsp whole anise seeds
  • 3/4 cup whole almonds, roughly chopped
  • 1 tbsp unsalted butter, softened (for hands when shaping)

Instructions

  1. Preheat. Heat oven to 350°F. Line a large baking sheet with parchment paper.
  2. Mix dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt until evenly combined.
  3. Add wet ingredients. In a small bowl, beat eggs with anise extract and vanilla extract. Pour into the dry ingredients and stir until a stiff dough forms. Fold in the anise seeds and chopped almonds.
  4. Shape logs. Lightly butter your hands. Divide dough in half and shape each portion into a log roughly 12 inches long and 2 inches wide on the prepared baking sheet, leaving at least 3 inches between the logs.
  5. First bake. Bake at 350°F for 25 to 28 minutes, until the logs are golden, firm to the touch, and beginning to crack slightly on top. Remove from oven and let cool on the pan for 15 minutes. Reduce oven temperature to 325°F.
  6. Slice. Using a sharp serrated knife, cut each log on a slight diagonal into slices about 3/4 inch thick. Arrange slices cut-side down on the baking sheet in a single layer.
  7. Second bake. Return to the 325°F oven and bake for 8 minutes. Flip each biscotto and bake another 8 to 10 minutes, until dry, pale golden, and crisp through. They will firm further as they cool.
  8. Cool completely. Transfer to a wire rack and cool fully before storing. Biscotti keep in an airtight container at room temperature for up to two weeks.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 82 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 2g | Carbs: 14g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 38mg

Priya Krishnamurthy
About the cook who shared this
Priya Krishnamurthy
Week 500 of Priya’s 30-year story · Edison, New Jersey
Priya is a pharmacist, wife, and mom of two in Edison, New Jersey — the town she grew up in, surrounded by the sights and smells of her mother's South Indian kitchen. These days, she splits her time between the hospital pharmacy, school pickups, and her own kitchen, where she cooks nearly every night. Her style is a blend of the Tamil recipes her mother taught her and the American comfort food her kids actually want to eat. She writes about the beautiful mess of balancing two cultures on one plate — and she wants you to know that ordering pizza is also an act of love.

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