I am generally not the sort of person who enjoys gross-out stories, insects, anything slippery or slimy, and the kind of things that naughty little boys find hysterically funny. After what happened to me on my generally mundane commute to work this morning, I have to share it with you. You have to be grossed out as much as I was grossed out. Your gag reflex has to remind you it's there and perfectly connected to your stomach that (thankfully) doesn't contain your breakfast yet because you're running late. Brace yourself.
Since Justin is working midnight shift this month, I get to call him at seven in the morning and chatter on and on about all the things I would be chattering about in the afternoon only now he sleeps during our normal gab-time. So I called him this morning as customary for midnight shift, and I'm jacking my jaws about measuring his windows for curtains so he can actually sleep through the day without the light of God beaming through his windows all hours of the day. Then, mid-sentence about measurements and a mild scolding for duck-taping blankets over the windows, it happened. The deer carcass in the right lane. The Greyhound bus. The unmistakable target zone my little blue car inhabited.
Rather than swerve a foot or two to the right, that freaking bus plowed right through the bloodied up, swollen body of Bambi's mother, exploding it all over the road and into the wind. It was like slow motion, I could hear myself saying, "Oh, no...no..." and Justin saying, "What? Hello? No?" And then the horror of it all came to fruition on my windshield: I was totally hosed with blood and hair and animal flesh. It smattered across the windshield, I was left staring straight ahead with my mouth slightly agape, trying not to gag, not to curse, not to puke. Not to think about the impending heat of the day that would turn my car into a venison pot pie by noon. It was horrible and disgusting and I'll be sleeping next to my Mom tonight to try and forget about it.
On the other hand, Justin, who has a tendency to be a gross boy when it comes to this sort of thing, couldn't catch his breath he was laughing so hard. I made him promise to clean out the grill of my car as punishment for his laughter, I needed sympathy people, sympathy!
My windows were down, too.
I usually don't see the hype surrounding biscotti, the first time I ever had one was years ago when our elderly neighbor gave us a package of them individually wrapped and kept calling them "dunkers." Well, dunk I did not, and I nearly cracked my teeth trying to eat it plain. I always see these photographed next to a tiny cup of espresso or an otherwise highly caffeinated beverage that will send my heart-rate into a frenzy, but I just can't get on board with that. It's not likely you'll soak the cookie in your coffee, at least I wouldn't, and without something to soften them a touch they are entirely too crunchy to eat as they are.
I ate them with a small mason jar of ice cold milk - slosh the cookie around for a bit, let it soak up that milky goodness, then they'll become the ultimate milk and cookie experience. These are flavored with cinnamon and sugar, but biscotti can sometimes be a savory thing, and the taste of these rivaled a heavily spiced snickerdoodle. I bought a jar of roasted Saigon cinnamon a few weeks back since I adore regular Saigon cinnamon, but there wasn't much about the roasted kind I found to be very special. Either way, any sort of cinnamon will do.
Cinnamon Sugar Biscotti
Adapted from Bon Appetit
2 cups all purpose flour
2 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar
6 tablespoons (3/4 stick) unsalted butter, room temperature
2 large eggs
1 large egg yolk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Preheat oven to 325°F. Line 2 large baking sheets with parchment paper. Mix flour, 1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon, baking powder and salt in medium bowl to blend. Using electric mixer, beat 1 cup sugar and butter in large bowl until fluffy. Add 1 egg; beat well. Add egg yolk; beat well. Mix in vanilla, then dry ingredients.
Transfer dough to work surface. Divide in half. Shape each half into 9-inch-long, 1 1/2-inch-wide log. Transfer logs to baking sheets. Beat remaining egg in small bowl. Brush logs with egg. Bake until golden and firm to touch (dough will spread), about 50 minutes. Cool on baking sheets. Maintain oven temperature.
Mix 3 tablespoons sugar and 1 teaspoon cinnamon in small bowl to blend. Using serrated knife, cut logs into 1/2-inch-wide diagonal slices. Place biscotti, cut side down, on baking sheets. Sprinkle 1/4 teaspoon cinnamon sugar over each biscotti. Bake until pale golden, about 20 minutes. Cool on racks. (Can be made 1 week ahead. Store in airtight container.)