Coffee Chocolate Chip Blondies

Christmas week. Kevin and Lisa arrived Wednesday. Margaret and her husband Gary arrived Thursday. James and I drove out Friday morning with more coolers than is reasonable. Karen's house is full in the way a house is supposed to be full, once in a while. I am writing this on the 27th, looking back on it with the grateful foggy relief of someone who survived a good Christmas.

Highlight one: Christmas dinner was a hybrid meal again. I did the Korean dishes (japchae, pajeon, kimchi, bulgogi). Karen and I made the American-ish dishes together — roast beef, mashed potatoes, green bean casserole because Margaret expected one, Karen's apple pie and pecan pie. Lisa brought a Portland-baked babka. Kevin brought Stumptown beans and a French press he had insisted on bringing from home. It was a mess. It was perfect.

Highlight two: Margaret asked me, at some point during the appetizers, whether I had any "news about the woman in Korea." I said, "Her name is Jisoo." Margaret said, "Oh. Sorry. Jisoo. I didn't mean to be rude. Any news?" I said, "We're doing well. We write every week. We're planning for me to visit Busan in the spring." Margaret said, "That's lovely. Your mother has been telling me. She's very proud of how you've handled this." Karen, behind Margaret, caught my eye. She nodded slightly. I smiled at both of them. I said, "Thank you for asking, Margaret. That was kind." And it was. Margaret, I realized, has been trying. She is seventy. She will keep getting some things wrong. She is trying. I made a note to be softer with Margaret.

Highlight three: on Christmas Eve, Jisoo FaceTimed us at the exact moment we had planned — 10 AM her time, 5 PM ours. Hye-jin joined for translation. Jisoo had the bowls I had sent her on her own kitchen counter, visible in frame. She had eaten rice out of one the night before. She told me this and held the bowl up to the camera. Karen, passing through the kitchen, said, "I love those bowls." Jisoo said, through Hye-jin, "They are from Seattle." Karen said, "I know. I helped her pick them." Jisoo said, "Thank you, Karen." Karen said, "You're welcome, Jisoo." They saw each other for the second time. It was less weepy than Thanksgiving. It was becoming routine. Routine is the thing I had never dared to hope for. Routine is the miracle that does not announce itself.

Christmas morning: presents. The digital photo frame I gave David and Karen was an immediate hit. They cycled through photos for the whole morning. David cried a little at a photo from 1996 of him teaching me to ride a bike. Karen cried at a photo from the Thanksgiving FaceTime with Jisoo. Lisa loved her prayer plant — she named it Otis before the gift even left the box, which is a Lisa-level immediate act. Kevin was quietly moved by the coffee equipment. James was delighted with the set of cookbooks I had been secretly assembling all fall (cookbooks about fusion cuisine, Asian diaspora food, adoptive-family cooking). He said, "You noticed the theme." I said, "I noticed the theme."

The recipe this week is Karen's apple pie, made this year by Karen's shaking hands with my help under the lattice, because that is the pie of this family, and this year more than ever it was the pie we needed. Flour, salt, Crisco, ice water; Granny Smith apples, sugar, cinnamon, lemon, a little flour to thicken. Forty-five minutes in the oven. Two hours to cool. Eat it with ice cream. Eat it with your mother's hands on yours, steadying the knife.

Kevin’s Stumptown beans were the quiet hero of the whole week — that French press he insisted on hauling from Portland kept the kitchen warm and full of people at every hour, and I kept thinking about how coffee has a way of doing that, of gathering everyone in without making a fuss about it. These coffee chocolate chip blondies are my way of holding onto that feeling: the smell of something good baking, the house still full, everyone still in pajamas, David cycling through photos on the frame and Karen’s hands wrapped around a mug. Bake a pan of these the morning after your own good Christmas, and eat them with the people who are still there.

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 28 min | Total Time: 43 min | Servings: 16 bars

Ingredients

1/2 cup (1 stick) unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 cup packed light brown sugar
2 large eggs, room temperature
1 1/2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
2 tablespoons instant espresso powder (or 1 tablespoon very finely ground dark-roast coffee)
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon fine salt
1 cup semisweet chocolate chips, divided
Flaky sea salt, for finishing (optional)

Instructions

Prep the pan. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Line an 8x8-inch baking pan with parchment paper, leaving an overhang on two sides for easy lifting. Lightly grease the parchment.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the melted butter and brown sugar until smooth and glossy, about 1 minute. Add the eggs one at a time, whisking well after each addition. Stir in the vanilla extract and espresso powder until fully dissolved and the batter is uniform in color.
Add the dry ingredients. Add the flour, baking powder, and salt to the bowl. Fold with a rubber spatula until just combined — do not overmix. The batter will be thick.
Fold in the chocolate. Stir in 3/4 cup of the chocolate chips, reserving the rest for the top.
Fill and top. Spread the batter evenly into the prepared pan. Scatter the remaining 1/4 cup chocolate chips over the surface. If using, add a light pinch of flaky sea salt.
Bake. Bake for 25–28 minutes, until the edges are set and golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out with just a few moist crumbs (not wet batter). Do not overbake — the center will firm as it cools.
Cool completely before cutting. Let the pan cool on a wire rack for at least 30 minutes, then lift out using the parchment overhang and cut into 16 squares. They slice cleanest when fully cooled.

Nutrition (per serving)

Coffee Chocolate Chip Blondies — The Stumptown Bars That Carried Us Through Christmas Morning