North End Biscotti

In my 34 years, I have lived in quite a few places. I have lived in the suburbs, in college dorms, and in apartments from London to Hollywood and everywhere in between (aka Ann Arbor and Chicago). And now I live in my beloved mullet. But long before the mullet was my apartment in the North End.

The North End is Boston's Little Italy neighborhood. Unlike, say, New York's Little Italy, this one is still pretty much in tact. Yes, there is the inevitable war between the property-value-upping yuppies and the old guard Italians, but by and large the character of the neighborhood is still pretty unadulterated. The streets literally waft with the smells of Italian cooking, old women hang out of their upper-level windows and give you the evil eye. It is magnificent.

When I moved back to Boston in 2001, my parents were so excited to have me back in their neck of the woods that they actually found an apartment for me. They pounded the pavement, saw places, picked one out, the whole works. Pretty impressive under any circumstances, but especially so given that my mother isn't exactly a big fan of navigating the city on her own.

So it was that I got off the plane and moved in, sight unseen, to the most kickass apartment imaginable. Seriously. Third floor walk up. New, gutted interior. Hardwood floors. Above a restaurant. Fire escapes. View out onto Hanover Street (the main drag), and the rest of the city, besides. It was ridiculous.

The place was so great I felt like I was a better person merely from the fact that I got to live there. And the sheer amount of walking I did (parking in the North End is a nightmare, so I used my car so little most friends didn't even know I had one) kept the weight off me that I otherwise would have gained from living within a four-block radius of about 45 amazing Italian restaurants that I patronized with reckless abandon. It must also be said here that this is the apartment I lived in when Josh and I met, so it must have been a lucky one.

I have always been a fan of Italian food. I mean, honestly, who isn't? But even I can't argue with it. It is simply stem to stern delicious.

That said, I'm not usually bowled over by traditional Italian desserts. Sure, cannoli and what all are fine, but I don't lose my mind over them. Put into that category biscotti, which to me are basically tooth-breakingly hard cookies. I guess some people flip for them, but I generally have more of a take it or leave it attitude toward them.

And yet, perhaps in a very thoughtful homage to my former, fantastic North End apartment, my parents' friends the Wilchins gave me a recipe for North End Biscotti. Now, I know I made this once before, because I have the note 'awesome' next to them in the margin. Still, I was dubious, as I have a vague memory of thinking they were good, but not quite right?

Nonetheless, Biscotti time had tome. Today was a bake sale at Josh's work, and although the Biscotti are far from my last sweet, they are the last in the cookie section, and we all know a non-messy, individual-sized item is going to be better for the bake sale venue than a giant pie.

I wrote on my calendar that I needed to bake the Biscotti for him yesterday, went to the grocery over the weekend to get the missing ingredients (pecans), and got ready. One benefit of the Biscotti is that they are very simple to make. Nonetheless, I tried my absolute damndest to screw them up. Really, I gave it the old college try for sure - including such things as attempting to forget several of the ingredients.

But despite all the travails, the Biscotti not only survived, it triumphed. It was, how do I put this...phenomenal. Josh called me this morning to tell me he'd had some and they were amazing, but it wasn't until I bit into my breakfast Biscotti with my tea that I realized I had in fact pulled off quite a feat. Not only do they taste good - and they taste damn good - but the texture. Oh the texture! How did I pull off this perfection of texture? They are the perfect, absolute perfect hardness. Hard enough for the satisfying crunch of Biscotti, but not so hard (as many even professional ones are) that they make you fear for your fillings. There is even a light, fluffy element to them as you crunch. I don't know how on earth I did it.

All I can say is that after evidently making them twice, and both times being pleasantly surprised, Sue Wilchins' North End Biscotti get an unmitigated TIDWTE thumbs up. So it is here that I give a big thank you to Sue for giving me this recipe. And another to my parents for that most amazing of apartments. And another to Josh for finding me while I lived there.

And for those readers who may be in the vicinity of Josh's bake sale today, I highly recommend you go get yourself some. These little effers are delicious.

Really, truly impressive

Sue Wilchins' TIDWTE Award-Winning North End Biscotti

1 1/2 cup flour
1/2 tsp salt (Kosher!)
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 stick butter
1 1/4 cup sugar
4 large eggs
4 cups pecans
1 tsp vanilla

Butter two loaf pans and sprinkle with flour.

Add butter, vanilla, sugar and eggs. Beat well. Answer door because your cleaning people are here, which is very surprising to you because you were sure when they called this morning you were talking about them coming on Wednesday and not today. Have them take one look at the ladder in the hallway, plaster all over the floor of the guest room, and lack of electricity on the right side of the house due to Josh's ceiling-fan installation project and say, 'We'll come back.' Oops.

Add dry ingredients. Beat only to blend. Stir in nuts. Answer door because your dog walker is here for Big. Have to explain to her why you are shuffling around your kitchen in an apron in the middle of what would normally be a work day.

Taste batter and realize you forgot to put in the sugar. Think, 'God damn am I lucky that I like to lick the beater blades, because otherwise this would have been two loaves of suck.' Put in sugar on the premise that 'Late is indeed better than never.' Taste batter. It tastes much better.

Divide the batter into the two loaf pans. Look at them proudly, ready to go into the oven, at which point you realize you forgot the stupid pecans. Dump batter back into mixing bowl where you stir in the two bags of pecans. Thank heavens you randomly have four bread loaf pans, so you can just put the two dirty ones in the sink and re-butter and flour the other two for use.

Bake about 55 minutes ('til tester comes out clean). Realize Sue forgot to tell you at what temperature you should do this. Decide on the ubiquitous 350 because it is, well, ubiquitous, and hope for the best.

Remove from oven. Place a wet paper towel over the pan so it is touching the loaf! Wonder why this needs an exclamation point! Cover with aluminum foil (or wax paper because you just ran out of aluminum foil) and cool completely while you go to the chiropractor.

Return from chiropractor and remove from pans. Wrap in plastic wrap and refrigerate overnight - or a few hours while you help Josh complete the fan installation project (holding a flashlight is important!) and make dinner because you sure as shit aren't getting up at six tomorrow morning to finish this off. This will happen now.

Use a serrated knife to cut thin - 3/16" to 1/4" slices. Wonder how on earth anyone knows what a 3/16" slice looks like, but just eyeball it to the measurement 'not big.' Place on cookie sheet(s) and bake about 15 minutes, once again at an unappointed temperature that you decide will be 350. Watch closely so they don't burn. Or take a bath, during which time you get increasingly antsy that the timer hasn't gone off. Get out of bath to discover that timer never rang and 15 minutes was over God knows how long ago. Take out thankfully unburned Biscotti. Worry that they aren't hard enough, and hope they harden over night. They do.

Sue notes: They are delicious! Especially with espresso or cappuccino!

Heather notes: Damn straight!