Lately, things have been going pretty well for me in the kitchen. So, with culinary karma apparently on my side, I decided to try my hand at making cucidati—Italian fig cookies. Basically, they’re Fig Newtons on steroids (and without the preservatives). These little guys are amazing: rich tender cookie on the outside, with soft, spiced figgy filling on the inside…and maybe a little frosting and sprinkles on top. I love them, but I’ve only ever had them from professional bakeries, made by able Italian hands. “What the heck?” I thought, “Let’s do it!”
You know what comes before the fall, right? (No, not summer. Pride.)
I should have known by the unexpectedly difficult ingredient search that this was not going to be an easy endeavor. I had to buy dark rum, instant espresso, apricot jam, whole almonds, good chocolate, golden raisins, and candied orange peel to name a few. Undaunted, though, I made the dough and the filling and assembled the cookies. As they were baking, my excitement grew. I had done everything right! Tony was going to be so impressed and excited! What a great Valentine’s Day present!
And then…oh then…I pulled them out of the oven. Barely waiting for them to cool, I bit into one of the little fig nuggets. Awful—just awful! The cookie part was dry and the fig center tasted like an orange peel got drunk on rum and snuggled with a piece of baking chocolate.
Maybe the frosting would help. Well, there was no recipe for frosting, so I winged it. FAIL. So, there I am surrounded by 60 awful cookies I spent a week preparing for, covered in royal icing and disappointed.
It’s been a long time since I threw a proper temper tantrum—probably 20 years—but right there in the kitchen I just lost it. I shouted expletives, threw down my dishtowel in frustration, stomped out of the kitchen, thrust myself on the bed and started to cry. It was pathetic.
When I had finally collected myself, I looked at the recipe and realized I had left an entire stick of butter out of the dough. That would solve the dry cookie problem. The filling, however, just needed to be changed. It tasted way too much like orange and not nearly enough like fig. The rum struck a strange, sharp note, and the chocolate actually contributed to the overall bitterness of the filling.
So, on the next round, I eliminated the candied orange peel, and opted for some fresh zest instead. I kept the almonds, upped the figs and spices, nixed the chocolate, ditched the rum, and added a little fresh rosemary. I wanted pure fig flavor enhanced by warm spices and floral citrus, and that is, at last, what I got.
I am not Italian and no one authorized me to just go changing the recipe. But I hear that even Italians aren’t sure what goes in these cookies—everyone’s recipe is different. Admittedly, these cookies are something of a commitment to make, but they are absolutely delicious if you get them right. Besides, I’ve gone ahead and messed up so you don’t have to. Enjoy!
These cookies really are a labor of love. I used to make them every year twice: once with my grandmother and once with my mother. My mother always joked about not being “Italian enough” to make them just right. Your comment reminded me of hers. I don’t make them now, since I only cook and bake gluten free for my spouse–but you’re right, they are absolutely delicious if you can get them just right. =) Thanks for the nostalgic reminder to start my day.
Two things, Sharon.
These cookies are definitely my new favorites. With Mother’s Day coming up in a few months, I’m hoping you might consider making me a batch of these?
I could totally relate to you kitchen meltdown. I remember more than once angrily dumping kitchen disasters in the trash. And then there was first-course Thanksgiving mushroom soup a few years back. As I got everyone to the table and started to serve up, I noticed it was foaming. It hurt throwing all those fresh and dried wild mushrooms away. If you cook a lot, it’s inevitable.
I think we’ve all had some disasters in the kitchen… one of mine was trying to get down my sister-in-laws flaky and buttery pie crust. I fumbled that one up the first time around… thank goodness I wasn’t serving it for a special occasion or holiday!
Two words: Nick Malgieri. He’ll have a recipe & I’ve never had any of his recipes fail.
Sharon – thanks for sharing!! Gives me the courage to tackle the flour tortillas I have failed to get right. Your openness is much appreciated!! 🙂
I appreciate when otherwise good cooks post their failures … and their hissy fits. It helps to know I’m not the only one. Glad to know there was a happy ending. My favorite Italian cookie is known as a meatball cookie (at least around here). I have yet to perfect it after many tries, though.
WOW! We have been making italian fig cookies all my life (40 years). The recipe has been passed down from generation to generation & ins closely guarded right now or I would share it. Your recipe is VERY different than our families recipe. I wouldn’t give up trying though. Once you find the recipe that you like &works for you, they are marvelous. Looking at your recipe, I saw several things that were off: coffee, rosemary. Never have I seen these 2 ingredients in any of our extended family’s recipes. Chocolate chips are optional in many households, but they are forbidden in our cookies. GOod luck trying.
Sharon, I can completely relate to that feeling. Not too long ago, I had your sis and bro-in-law over for dinner after they’d been skiing all day with James. Little did I realize that the hen I’d defrosted to roast didn’t do so all the way! It was 10:30 before we ate roast chicken dinner that night. I wanted to scream at the oven. I really did.