Hazelnut Espresso Sandwich Cookies — The Coffee That Carried Us Home

Indian Independence Day again. Anaya's first. She's seven weeks old and her understanding of national identity extends to: milk, sleep, being held, and occasionally staring at the ceiling fan with the intensity of a philosopher contemplating the infinite. We went to the temple celebration — carefully, briefly, with the kind of precautions that new parents take when introducing a baby to a crowd (hand sanitizer, a firm "don't touch her face" to temple aunties, the carrier strapped to my chest like a bulletproof vest). Amma was there, running the food station as always. She spotted us from across the room and came over with the determined stride of a grandmother who has been separated from her granddaughter for sixteen hours (she left our apartment at 9 PM last night — sixteen hours is, apparently, an eternity). "She needs a hat," Amma said, looking at Anaya. "It's August, Amma. It's ninety degrees." "The air conditioning is too cold for her." "She's fine." "She doesn't look fine. She looks cold." Anaya was not cold. Anaya was asleep, which is her primary activity, and she does it with the same quiet determination she showed at birth. Appa held her at the celebration — this time more comfortably, less like a legal document and more like a grandchild. He sat in the corner with Anaya on his chest and people came to see her and he accepted their blessings with the solemn pride of a patriarch. "Beautiful girl," they said. "Looks like Lakshmi." (Meaning Amma, not the goddess, though the distinction is sometimes unclear.) I ate from the food station — tricolor rice, jalebi, chai — and watched my daughter be held by her grandfather in a temple decorated with the Indian flag, and thought about what it means to be three generations in America. Amma and Appa came here. I was born here. Anaya was born here. Each generation further from India, each generation more rooted in Edison. But the sambar is the same. The rasam is the same. The prayers are the same. The things that travel — the important things — they don't need passports. I made filter coffee at home. The Madras kind. Strong, dark, frothed between two tumblers. I drank it and Anaya slept on my chest and the flag flew at the temple and we were American and Indian and both and neither and ourselves.

That cup of filter coffee — strong, dark, frothed between two tumblers while Anaya slept on my chest — is the kind of thing that grounds you when a day has been almost too full to hold. It’s Amma’s ritual and now it’s mine, and someday, I hope, Anaya’s. These hazelnut espresso sandwich cookies aren’t filter coffee, exactly, but they carry the same note: bitter, roasted, deeply satisfying, the flavor of something that has traveled a long way and arrived exactly right. I made them the morning after Independence Day, still thinking about Appa in the corner of the temple with my daughter on his chest, and they tasted like the best parts of both worlds.

Hazelnut Espresso Sandwich Cookies

Prep Time: 25 min | Cook Time: 12 min | Total Time: 37 min (plus chilling) | Servings: 24 sandwich cookies

Ingredients

• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
• 2/3 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 tablespoon instant espresso powder
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup finely ground toasted hazelnuts
• 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
• Espresso Buttercream Filling:
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened
• 1 1/2 cups powdered sugar, sifted
• 1 1/2 teaspoons instant espresso powder dissolved in 1 tablespoon hot water
• 1 teaspoon heavy cream or whole milk
• Pinch of fine sea salt

Instructions

1. Make the dough. Beat butter and powdered sugar together with a hand or stand mixer on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add espresso powder and vanilla extract; beat until combined.
2. Add dry ingredients. Reduce mixer to low and add flour, ground hazelnuts, and salt. Mix just until a cohesive dough forms. Do not overmix.
3. Chill. Divide dough in half, shape each portion into a flat disk, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour or up to 2 days.
4. Preheat and roll. Preheat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper. Working with one disk at a time on a lightly floured surface, roll dough to 1/8-inch thickness. Cut into 1 1/2-inch rounds with a cookie cutter.
5. Bake. Place rounds 1 inch apart on prepared sheets. Bake 10–12 minutes, until edges are just set and bottoms are barely golden. Do not overbake — they firm as they cool. Transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.
6. Make the filling. Beat softened butter until smooth. Add powdered sugar and beat on low to combine. Add the dissolved espresso liquid, cream, and salt; beat on medium-high for 2 minutes until light and fluffy.
7. Assemble. Pipe or spread about 1 teaspoon of espresso buttercream onto the flat side of half the cookies. Top with remaining cookies, flat side down, pressing gently. Cookies keep in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 185 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 11g | Carbs: 21g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 55mg