Chrusciki Bow Tie Cookies

December. The tree goes up, the matcha shortbread goes into the oven, and the apartment enters its December mode: lights, candles, the smell of cookies and dashi, the two scents that should not coexist but do, in my kitchen, because everything that should not coexist does, in my kitchen, because the kitchen is the country of neither-and-both, and the country's national fragrance is matcha shortbread and miso soup, simultaneously, without apology.

I made the osechi preparations — kuromame (the nail, the patience, the two-day simmer), datemaki, ozoni components. The New Year's preparation is now a three-year-old tradition in this apartment, which makes it a tradition, because three repetitions is the minimum for a thing to qualify as a tradition, and the qualification means: this is who I am now. I am a woman who makes kuromame in December. I am a woman who soaks the nail. I am a woman who waits two days. The waiting is the tradition. The tradition is the identity.

I got a holiday card from Brian and his new girlfriend, Lisa. The card said "Happy Holidays from Brian and Lisa" and included a photo of them with a dog — a golden retriever that Miya has mentioned with increasing enthusiasm and that I am trying not to resent, because resenting a dog is beneath me, except that the dog gets to see my daughter every other week and the dog doesn't even appreciate it, the dog just licks her face, and — okay, I am resenting a dog. My therapist will hear about this on Thursday.

Miya came home from Brian's talking about the dog ("His name is Murphy and he's the BEST") and about Lisa ("She's nice, mama, she makes really good pasta") and the information was delivered with the casual brutality of a seven-year-old who does not understand that "Lisa makes really good pasta" is a sentence that requires its own parking lot to unpack. Lisa makes really good pasta. Good for Lisa. My miso soup is better. This is not a competition. This is absolutely a competition. This is the most petty, human, unavoidable competition: the competition between the ex-wife's miso soup and the new girlfriend's pasta. I win. I always win. The miso soup always wins. The miso soup has been winning for seven years. The pasta doesn't stand a chance.

The matcha shortbread was already cooling on the rack when I found myself thinking about Chrusciki—those crisp, airy Polish bow tie cookies dusted in powdered sugar—because that’s what December in my kitchen does: it accumulates traditions, one on top of another, until the counter is full and the apartment smells like something that belongs entirely to you. I didn’t grow up making these, but three years ago I made them once, and now I make them every December, because three repetitions qualifies a thing as a tradition, and I am apparently a woman who collects traditions the way other people collect ornaments. The miso soup wins. The kuromame simmers. And the Chrusciki get made, because they are mine now, the same way all of this is mine now.

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 1 hr (includes 30 min rest) | Servings: About 36 cookies

Ingredients

3 large egg yolks
1 tablespoon sour cream
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling
Vegetable oil, for frying (about 2 inches deep)
1 cup powdered sugar, for dusting

Instructions

Make the dough. In a medium bowl, whisk together egg yolks, sour cream, granulated sugar, vanilla extract, and salt until smooth and slightly pale. Add the flour and stir until a soft dough forms. It should be slightly tacky but not sticky—add flour one teaspoon at a time if needed.
Rest the dough. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and let it rest at room temperature for 30 minutes. This relaxes the gluten and makes rolling much easier.
Roll thin. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to about 1/8-inch thickness—as thin as you can manage without tearing. The thinner the dough, the crispier and more delicate the cookies.
Cut and shape. Using a pastry cutter or sharp knife, cut the dough into rectangles about 1 inch wide and 4 inches long. Cut a 1-inch slit lengthwise through the center of each strip. Pull one end of the strip through the slit and gently tug to form the classic bow tie shape.
Heat the oil. Pour vegetable oil into a heavy-bottomed saucepan or deep skillet to a depth of about 2 inches. Heat over medium-high heat to 375°F. Use a thermometer—temperature control is the difference between golden and greasy.
Fry in batches. Fry 4—5 cookies at a time, turning once, until lightly golden on both sides, about 1—2 minutes total. They puff and turn golden quickly, so stay close. Transfer to a paper towel—lined plate to drain.
Dust generously. While still warm, sift powdered sugar over the cookies in a thick, unambiguous layer. Don’t be shy. Arrange on a platter and dust again just before serving if needed.

Nutrition (per serving, ~2 cookies)

Chrusciki Bow Tie Cookies — Because Some Traditions You Choose Yourself