Glazed Pfeffernuesse

June arrived with warmth and the garden committed to summer without ambiguity. The tomato plants have set their first blossoms, which means the fruit is coming, six to eight weeks out. The zucchini put out its first yellow flower Wednesday. The beans are climbing their poles with visible daily progress. The asparagus ferns are beginning, the bed I left unharvested now sending up the ferns that will feed the roots through summer — tall green feathers that make the asparagus bed look like something from a different ecosystem entirely.

I baked a rhubarb tart this week using the last of the rhubarb before it goes woody — a custard tart in a butter crust with thin slices of rhubarb laid in a pattern on top, the custard just barely sweet to let the rhubarb pull against it. The technique is French and simple: crème brûlée consistency custard poured over the rhubarb in an unbaked shell, the whole thing going in at moderate heat for thirty minutes until the custard is set with the slightest tremor at the center. I brought it to Carol when I drove up to Stowe on Thursday — she has been refinishing the floors in her kitchen and has not had her own oven for two weeks — and we ate it at her kitchen table surrounded by the smell of polyurethane, which is not ideal but the tart was good enough to overcome it.

Teddy texted on Thursday with a photograph of a plate — a composed dish he had made for his family's dinner: seared trout with a beurre blanc, roasted asparagus, and a garnish of herb oil. The beurre blanc was correct — glossy and emulsified, not broken — and I wrote back to ask how he had built it. He described the shallot reduction and the cold butter mounting with exact terminology. I told him that was a restaurant-quality sauce and he texted back a single period, which I have come to understand as his version of quiet satisfaction. Seventeen in August. The kid is going to be extraordinary.

The rhubarb tart I brought to Carol got me thinking about the particular satisfaction of baking something traditional — something with a technique behind it, a lineage. Pfeffernuesse have that same quality: spiced, deliberate, a little old-fashioned in the best sense, the kind of cookie that rewards patience the way a properly set custard does. After a week of watching things grow slowly and baking with intention, a batch of these felt exactly right.

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 37 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 48 cookies

Ingredients

1/2 cup honey
1/2 cup molasses
3/4 cup butter
3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/2 teaspoon ground allspice
1/2 teaspoon ground cloves
1/2 teaspoon ground nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon ground black pepper
1/4 teaspoon anise extract
1 egg, lightly beaten
Glaze:
1 1/2 cups powdered sugar
3 tablespoons whole milk
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Instructions

Heat the wet ingredients. In a medium saucepan over medium heat, combine honey, molasses, and butter. Stir until butter is melted and mixture is smooth. Remove from heat and let cool to room temperature.
Combine dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking soda, cinnamon, allspice, cloves, nutmeg, and black pepper until evenly mixed.
Form the dough. Stir the beaten egg and anise extract into the cooled honey mixture. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir until a stiff dough forms. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours or overnight.
Preheat and shape. Preheat oven to 350°F. Roll chilled dough into 1-inch balls and place about 1 inch apart on parchment-lined baking sheets.
Bake. Bake for 11–13 minutes, until cookies are set and the bottoms are lightly golden. The centers will remain just slightly soft. Cool on the pan for 3 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack.
Make the glaze. Whisk together powdered sugar, milk, and vanilla in a small bowl until smooth and pourable. Adjust with additional milk one teaspoon at a time if too thick.
Glaze the cookies. While cookies are still slightly warm, dip the tops into the glaze or spoon glaze over each cookie. Set on the rack until the glaze is firm, about 20 minutes.

Nutrition (per serving)

Glazed Pfeffernuesse — Baking Through the Last of Summer’s Patience