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Shortbread with Chocolate -- The December That Held a Finished Thing

December. The darkness. The annual test. But this December the test has a new variable — the book is done. The manuscript is with the publisher. The publication is scheduled for fall 2024. The doneness of the book has changed the December — not lighter, not easier, but different. The darkness is still dark. But the dark holds a finished thing now, a completed thing, a thing that started on a kitchen floor and ended on a kitchen table and the ending is an ending and the ending is also a beginning. The book as bridge between the person I was and the person I'm becoming.

The Filipino Community Christmas party. Three hundred lumpia. Lourdes at the frying station, eighty years ahead of her and seventy-three behind, the woman who has been frying lumpia for this community since 1983 and who will not stop until stopping is physically required, and the physical requirement has not yet arrived, and Lourdes does not anticipate its arrival because Lourdes does not anticipate limitations — she encounters them and then renegotiates them, the way she renegotiates everything: with vinegar, with stubbornness, with the absolute conviction that the lumpia will be fried.

I made bibingka for the party. Golden, warm, the Christmas food. The bibingka was the same as every year. The December was different. The December had a book in it. The December had a future in it. The future smelled like coconut and the book smelled like garlic and both scents were mine.

Bibingka and lumpia carried the party — golden, communal, already spoken for — but I needed something quieter for myself, something that belonged only to the strange, complete feeling of a December with a book in it. Shortbread felt right: simple, finished, no negotiation required. I dipped the edges in chocolate the way you mark the end of a hard thing — deliberately, unhurriedly — because this ending deserved that kind of attention.

Shortbread with Chocolate

Prep Time: 20 min | Cook Time: 20 min | Total Time: 40 min | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

  • 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
  • 1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
  • 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
  • 2 cups all-purpose flour
  • 1/4 teaspoon salt
  • 6 oz dark or semi-sweet chocolate, finely chopped
  • 1 teaspoon coconut oil or neutral oil (optional, for smoother dipping chocolate)

Instructions

  1. Cream the butter. Beat softened butter and powdered sugar together with a hand mixer or stand mixer on medium speed until pale and fluffy, about 2–3 minutes. Add vanilla extract and mix to combine.
  2. Mix the dough. Add the flour and salt to the butter mixture. Mix on low until just combined and the dough comes together — do not overwork it. The dough should be soft but not sticky.
  3. Shape the cookies. On a lightly floured surface, roll the dough out to about 1/4-inch thickness. Cut into rectangles or rounds using a knife or cookie cutter. Arrange on a parchment-lined baking sheet, spacing about 1 inch apart.
  4. Chill. Refrigerate the shaped cookies on the baking sheet for 15 minutes while you preheat the oven to 325°F (165°C). Chilling helps them hold their shape and keeps the texture tender.
  5. Bake. Bake for 18–22 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden and the centers look set but pale. Do not overbake — shortbread continues to firm as it cools. Transfer to a wire rack and cool completely.
  6. Melt the chocolate. Combine chopped chocolate and coconut oil in a heatproof bowl. Melt over a double boiler or in the microwave in 30-second intervals, stirring between each, until smooth and glossy.
  7. Dip and set. Dip one end of each cooled shortbread cookie into the melted chocolate, letting the excess drip off. Place on a parchment-lined tray. Allow to set at room temperature for 30 minutes, or refrigerate for 10 minutes until the chocolate is firm.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 148 | Protein: 1g | Fat: 9g | Carbs: 15g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 28mg

Grace Santos
About the cook who shared this
Grace Santos
Week 366 of Grace’s 30-year story · Anchorage, Alaska
Grace is a thirty-seven-year-old ER nurse in Anchorage, Alaska — Filipino-American, single, and the person her entire community calls when they need a hundred lumpia for a party or a shoulder to cry on after a hard shift. She cooks to cope with the things she sees in the emergency room, feeding her neighbors and her church and anyone who looks like they need a plate. Her adobo could bring peace to a warring nation. Her schedule could kill a lesser person.

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