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Cannoli Cups — A Simple Sweet for the Wedding Table We’re Building

Late January. Sleet Tuesday. Power held. The shoulder is fully back to function. I have stopped marking weeks-post-op. The body is the body again. I split a quarter cord of wood Saturday in the morning sun and the work felt right. The shoulder did not protest. The shoulder is now better than the old shoulder was at fifty.

Hannah and I started actually planning the wedding food. Twenty people. Caleb and Miriam want simple food, not fancy. They want venison and brisket and bean bread and wild onion eggs and the foods they associate with us. Miriam wants to add empanadas and pozole. We're doing all of it. The menu is set. The cooking will start a week before — slow-smoked, mostly, with the active assembly the day-of.

The cohort's second week. The 58-year-old is teaching the new students by accident — she's further along than they are and the new ones gravitate to her, asking for help. She's patient. She has been waiting forty years and she has the patience of a person who has waited that long. I watched her show a 22-year-old new student how to grip a torch. The 22-year-old listened the way you listen to someone who knows. The teaching by accident is the best kind of teaching.

Tuesday I called Macy. She is twenty-one now. She moved to Tulsa in November to start a community college nursing program. The move I had hoped for is the move she made. We talked for half an hour. She is liking the classes. She is dating a different boy than Travis — a Tulsa boy named Henry whose family is from Bartlesville. She said: I want you to meet him. I said: come for a weekend. She said: in February. I said: come. She said: with Henry. I said: with Henry.

We settled the main menu — venison, brisket, bean bread, wild onion eggs, empanadas, pozole — and then Hannah asked what we were doing for something sweet, and I realized we hadn’t gotten there yet. Caleb and Miriam don’t want a wedding cake situation. They want food that feels like us, and something that can be made ahead and set out without anyone fussing over it the day-of. These cannoli cups are exactly that: no equipment, no ceremony, ready in thirty minutes, and the kind of thing that goes fast at a table full of people who are actually happy to be there.

Cannoli Cups

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 10 min | Total Time: 30 min | Servings: 24 cups

Ingredients

  • 24 wonton wrappers
  • Cooking spray
  • 2 cups whole-milk ricotta cheese, drained overnight if possible
  • 1 cup powdered sugar, sifted, plus extra for dusting
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
  • 1/4 teaspoon fine salt
  • 1/2 cup mini chocolate chips, divided
  • 1/4 cup finely chopped candied orange peel (optional)

Instructions

  1. Preheat and prep the cups. Heat oven to 375°F. Lightly spray a 24-cup mini muffin tin with cooking spray. Press one wonton wrapper into each cavity, easing the corners up to form a cup shape.
  2. Bake the shells. Bake 8–10 minutes until the edges are golden and the cups feel crisp to the touch. Remove from oven and let cool completely in the pan before filling — they firm up as they cool.
  3. Make the filling. In a medium bowl, beat together the drained ricotta, powdered sugar, vanilla, cinnamon, and salt until smooth and creamy. Taste and adjust sweetness. Fold in 1/4 cup of the mini chocolate chips and the candied orange peel if using.
  4. Fill the cups. Transfer filling to a zip-top bag and snip one corner, or use a spoon. Pipe or spoon filling into each cooled shell, mounding it slightly. Do this close to serving time so the shells stay crisp.
  5. Finish and serve. Top each cup with a pinch of the remaining mini chocolate chips. Dust lightly with powdered sugar just before setting them out. Serve at room temperature.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 92 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 3g | Carbs: 13g | Fiber: 0g | Sodium: 98mg

Jesse Whitehawk
About the cook who shared this
Jesse Whitehawk
Week 492 of Jesse’s 30-year story · Tulsa, Oklahoma
Jesse is a thirty-nine-year-old welder, a Cherokee Nation citizen, and a married dad of three in Tulsa who cooks over open fire because that's how his grandpa Charlie did it and his grandpa's grandpa did it before him. His food draws from Cherokee tradition, Mexican heritage from his mother's side, and Oklahoma BBQ culture. He forages wild onions every spring and makes grape dumplings in the fall, and he considers both acts of cultural survival.

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