Lemon-Lavender Shortbread Cookies

From Views from the Carrot Condo by Trista Cornelius

August 4, 2010

During one of our first dates years ago, my man told me he didn’t like sweets, that he didn’t really like desserts. I’d been utterly flabbergasted earlier when he told me he did not like chocolate, but I got over it quickly when I realized there would be more for me. Not liking desserts, however, was not something I could comprehend. I grew up eating a homemade dinner every night with homemade dessert after—_always_—usually cookies, the whole jar set out on the center of the table to take as many as we pleased. Not liking dessert registered as gibberish in my mind, complete nonsense, static. I think I just sort of nodded absently.

Within a few more dates, we were routinely getting two spoons with my order of dessert. Not too long after, he was ordering his own dessert. Now he even tolerates dark chocolate, and his routine of black, drip coffee long ago gave way to more and more frequent sticky-sweet vanilla lattes. I didn’t set out to change his mind about sweets. Like I said, his statement was meaningless to me, not possible. I just kept ordering dessert and offering him a taste.

Nevertheless, he’s still not passionate about dessert, never gets crazed like I do. His maddening take-to-or-leave-it response to sweets provides an on-going challenge for me to find some confection that makes him giddy (like my mom’s lemon bars and my cousin’s vegan tiramisu cupcakes).

Not too long ago, we had breakfast at a hole-in-the-wall pub. We balanced on ripped vinyl seats at the booth and wondered if the lady at the bar was still there from the night before. We devoured two savory breakfasts and shared a third. In spite three platters of breakfast, the smell of a bakery lured us across the street when we should have been waddling to our car. As soon as we got to the counter of this half-cart half-bricks-and-mortar bakery, I knew what my man would order.

Forget everything in the display case: sticky buns the size of a catcher’s mitt, scones oozing with berries, and muffins that must have weighed a pound. Three jars sat on the counter near the register holding what looked like butter cookies—delicate pastry piped into shapes like shells and fleur-de-lis. I couldn’t see for sure because the sticky bun had me distracted, but my man ordered one of each cookie.

So, while may man walked back to the street looking like what I imagine to be a French sophisticate, focusing all his attention on the contents of his small, white pastry bag, I balanced a decidedly non-vegan sticky bun in both hands, unable to wipe the caramelized, brown goo from my chin. (Anyone would look like a sophisticate next to me!)

As I noshed, my man nibbled quaintly on what turned out to be trim, rectangular shortbread cookies. “Smell this,” he said with the concentrated flourish of a master painter. Flecked with Earl Grey tea, the cookie smelled like a morning in New England near the coast—sugar and cream with a lingering British influence. Another cookie had rosemary stirred into the batter, but the one that captivated him thoroughly, to my surprise, had flecks of lemon rind and ellipses of lavender blossom suspended throughout the thick, flaky cookie. I could smell the perfume through the molasses glaze of my sticky bun.

“He likes it?” I thought. He never likes anything perfume-y. I’ve narrowed my chapstick options down to one kind that usually does not make him scrunch his nose and fret at his lips like he’s just kissed a stale postage stamp. But he likes this lavender cookie!?

You know what I thought next of course. Not only was I determined to make him this cookie myself, it would have to be vegan. Butter, lots of it, usually makes shortbread the flaky, rich treat that it is. Still, I boldly altered a recipe I found for chocolate dipped vegan shortbread in _The Kind Diet_ by Alicia Silverstone. I nixed the chocolate of course, and I guessed at the amounts of lavender and lemon rind to add. I feared the strong perfume of the lavender, so I held back my normal “more is better” attitude with all things in life and used only one tablespoon. Better it be subtle than taste as if someone’s grandmother confused her perfume for the maple syrup.

It all went too well—the dough held together, it rolled out perfectly, it cut into uniform rectangles that easily lifted from the paper to the baking sheet, and as they baked, the house started to smell lovely—like being surrounded by dozens of fairy godmothers dressed in purple, sipping lemon tea, and wearing sprigs of lavender behind their ears.

To roll out the cookies, I had to place the cutting board on the kitchen floor to have enough space. The metal garbage can reflected my squatting image, distorting me as I looked at myself wondering what I might have missed that could ruin these cookies. A feeling of baker’s dread hovered near, and I couldn’t shake it.

Twelve minutes later, the cookies came out of the oven looking much like the ones from the bakery. I didn’t taste the ones at the bakery, so I packed these into a box with blind faith, sprinkled the parchment paper with a little more lavender (then worried its smell would infuse the cookies and make them too perfume-y), and packed the box with the rest of the food ready for a family gathering.

My forebodings about the shortbread not turning out proved to be misplaced (it would be the lemon berry pie that ended up a mess, from crust to filling). The cookies were a success! My man liked them and decided to pass them around to share. The best compliment came from my mom, “I thought you bought them at the store because they look so perfect.”

I’m sure this vegan version is less flaky than a traditional shortbread, but the cookies are thick and rich. I don’t taste the lemon rind too much, but the smell of lavender preps your palate so when you bite, it’s a subtle flower flavor. I like the texture best—rich, heavy, hearty. These would go well with a bitter tea and good conversation since everyone’s breath smells like fresh meadows, sweet grandmothers, and linen closet sachets!

Vegan Lemon-Lavender Shortbread Cookies
Adapted from The Kind Diet page 187

Ingredients:
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1 cup unbleached white flour
1 cup brown rice flour (Bob’s Red Mill makes a small package)
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 cup safflower oil
2/3 cup maple syrup (the pure stuff)
2 tsp. vanilla extract (make your own)
1 tsp. fine sea salt
1 Tbsp lavender blossoms (maybe one and a half Tbsps)
2 Tbsp lemon zest (maybe three Tbsps)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.

Combine flours, baking powder, and lavender in a large bowl.

In a separate bowl, whisk together oil, syrup, vanilla extract, lemon zest, and salt.

Add wet ingredients to dry ingredients, stir to form a smooth dough that just holds together. Silverstone suggests that you add 1 tsp. of water at a time if the dough is too crumbly and add up to 1 Tbsp more oil. I found this unnecessary.

Roll dough between two sheets of parchment paper. You want it to be about a half-inch thick and even so the cookies bake at the same pace. Cut the dough into desired shapes. I just did rectangles, but you could use cookie cutters to be more dramatic. Arrange on a cookie sheet covered in parchment paper. Bake 15-20 minutes until lightly browned. Cool on rack.