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February 15
Hey mum,
​
I’ve officially begun the cookbook project by starting on a recipe… I made Rosy’s shortbread! But I have a confession that’ll probably disappoint you. I haven’t baked any sweets in ohhh, about 18 years. And when I made the shortbread, I remembered why. 

Baking is a chemistry. You can’t easily pare down a recipe to small quantities and have it really turn out the same way. My whole life on the food truck, we made things in fairly large quantities because we’d be in a place for a week or more and always sell out of the baked goods. And so when I made Rosy’s shortbread yesterday, I did reduce the recipe, of course, but it still turned out two very large sheets of shortbread! I have no idea what I’m going to do with all this… it’s just me and Nora, after all!

I did alter the recipe a bit. I wasn’t really a fan of the original recipe, with the candied rose petal confetti on top. I loved the floral smell, but the petals always tasted and felt like sugar-coated velvet on my tongue, despite the small size of the confetti. 

I’ve been playing around with different infused salts and have had a sachet of organic lavender buds bathing in a small jar of fleur de sel for several months. So instead of the candied rose petal confetti, I used an unsalted butter in the shortbread, and sprinkled some of the lavender-infused salt crystals on top to finish, and it’s simply amazing. The salt brings out that beautiful herbal zing of the lavender, without the earthy heaviness of the actual bud, and the delicate crunch of the fleur de sel contrasts beautifully with the crumble and melt-in-your-mouth texture of the shortbread. 

Nora and I practically inhaled half a tray of the cookies when they came out of the oven. So of course, it’s for our own safety that we figure out what we’re going to do with the rest of this shortbread. And moving forward with this project, I’ll need to come up with some plan to disperse the resulting goods. I would distribute some to my coworkers at the restaurant, but I’m not sure the chef would take to that kindly. 

See, after I started life on my own, I got a job as a server at a restaurant in town. It’s part of the local inn, and it’s a popular spot for tourists. It’s a really beautiful location, right by the water, and the restaurant is known for its fresh, local seafood. But the desserts were just… lackluster. 

One day, the apprentice pastry chef gave me a new dish to try: a coffee caramel brownie with a fresh strawberry mousse. It was really beautifully composed; the brownie was rich, the caramel was decadent, the touch of coffee added a contrasting bitter note, and the strawberry mousse was light and airy and delightfully fruity with a slight acidity to balance the richness of the other sweet flavors. But… my assessment of these different elements was only from tasting each individually. When I took my first bite of the dessert together, it lost all those beautiful highlights in a heavy sugar rush. I asked the apprentice for some citrus salt but he had none. I found some fleur de sel and a fresh lemon in the pantry, and finely zested some of the lemon over the strawberry mousse. Then I lightly sprinkled some fleur de sel on the coffee caramel. The dish completely changed. The citrus made the strawberry notes sing, and the salt made the coffee burst through the caramel. Together, the dessert became a symphony. The apprentice was so intrigued by my additions that he let the chef know, and the chef offered to begin training me in the kitchen as a cook. 

I accepted, naturally; I’d grown up in the kitchen, albeit an untraditional one. But almost as soon as my training started, it ended. I felt like I was stepping right back into what I had just left by being in the kitchen, and respectfully explained to the chef that I couldn’t continue. He was disappointed, said I had potential I was throwing away. Even if that were true, I couldn’t stay in the kitchen, so I went back to serving. 

If I start taking dessert dishes to work now, he may feel like I’m starting something outside of the restaurant on my own. He might not understand what I’m actually doing and might feel like I didn’t value what he had been so generously offering to teach me. So I’ll have to figure something else out for the leftovers. 

For now, here’s my recipe for Rosy’s shortbread. (Eep - guess I have to come up with a new name for it!)
​
Love,
Beatrix
​
P.S. A whole sheet of shortbread has now gone missing, as have several of my decorative cookie tins. 
 
​
 
Rosy’s Shortbread
​
2 cups unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1 tsp vanilla extract
4 cups flour
3-4 tsp lavender-infused fleur de sel
​
1.  Preheat oven to 325 F. 
2.  Cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy.
3.  Add vanilla and beat until fully incorporated.
4.  Gradually stir in flour, mixing well. 
5.  Press shortbread dough evenly into a greased baking sheet. 
6.  (Optional) Gently groove the top with a fork.
7.  Lightly sprinkle the top with lavender-infused fleur de sel.  
8.  Bake in preheated oven for 40 minutes.
9.  Allow to fully cool in pan, then slice into bars and store in an air-tight container.
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