Wednesday’s Child: Welsh Cookies

I had never eaten Welsh cookies before I met my ex-husband. I think the first time I tasted them was from a care package his mother sent to Texas around the holidays. Petite, tender with butter, redolent of nutmeg and studded with chewy little currents, they charmed me. I liked how they were fried, like little crumpets, rather than baked. I liked the story about how they’d been brought to NE Pennsylvania by “coal crackers,” Welsh immigrants who found work in the coal mines when they arrived. But mostly I loved how much my husband loved them. His eyes lit up like a little boy’s when he saw them appear out of the wax paper lining the tin his mother sent. He hoarded them. I felt special, chosen, when he allowed me to eat one or two of his precious few.

When we got married, we also got the recipe from his mother and started making Welsh cookies ourselves. It took a bit of trial and error, but finally we were turning out cookies that approximated hers. My husband still hoarded them, however: I could have as many as I liked (as long as the last tin wasn’t getting *too* low), but of the 7 or so dozen we baked each holiday season (and that’s the half recipe, folks), he was willing to share only a dozen or so with our friends. They, too, basked in the glow of my husband’s favor as he gifted them. They had made the cut.

Until, of course, we all didn’t. He abandoned all our friends except a few when he abandoned me. And he took his mother’s recipe for Welsh cookies with him. Fine by me: there was no chance I was making them again, at least for the first few years after the discard. Weirdly, we had never fought when we made Welsh cookies, and they made him so happy; so, the cookies were like a little magical repository of everything that had been good about our marriage. And so it seared my chest just thinking about baking them.

Until this year. I casually mentioned to Jason and Jen that I was thinking about making Welsh cookies to go with my Victorian Christmas theme. And their faces lit up just like my ex’s used to. What was it about these cookies? I mused. Honestly, the taste wasn’t that amazing in my opinion. But there was something about them—something that I don’t think can ever fully be explained. Partly it’s the labor involved—meticulously flipping each cookie on the griddle, watching like a hawk so it doesn’t turn from delightfully golden and crispy on the outside, creamy—but cooked—in the middle into a chalky overbaked puck. And there’s the rarity: you don’t see these cookies outside Wales, NE Pennsylvania/S New York State, and a few specialty mail order places that have to make them a bit too bready so they’ll hold up in shipping. But as much as I hated to admit it, the biggest factor for those of us who knew my husband before he left all of us is the feeling of being chosen, of being special.

Making the first batch was tough, I admit it. I’m far enough out from the discard and divorce now that I actually have space to grieve my marriage—all the good that was lost, left out on the curb like something for Goodwill. It didn’t help that I had to reconstruct the recipe with the help of the Internet and my memory of my mother-in-law’s recipe. Sure, I could have reached out to her and asked for it, but even though she hasn’t told me, I’ve heard through the grapevine that she’s going through some health challenges right now. And, asking her for the recipe would remind her that her son kept it but left me. It didn’t feel right for some reason. So, of course in addition to all the ghosts that whispered to me as I baked—“My dad cuts them so small to spread out the recipe; let’s make them bigger!”…. “Should we replace the lard with duck fat this year?” … “Let’s not rework the dough too much, it makes them tough…”—I had the disappointment of the finished cookies not tasting like I remembered. I’d overbaked some, and there wasn’t enough nutmeg….

But when I shared that batch with friends, none of that seemed to matter. They won the most votes in the cookie contest at our department holiday party, and several people asked me for the recipe. My Christmas-tree hunting party hummed and cooed over them. And Jason and Jen’s eyes got big as dinner plates when I opened up the tin and said, Take as many as you want; I can always make you more. There’s just something about these cookies. They keep for days, and maybe they do a better job than most of preserving the love that’s baked into them, so the people you share them with can feel it. At any rate, I’ve got the recipe pretty much dialed in again, and I’m sharing it with you. Happy Holidays!

Welsh Cookies (Welsh Cakes)

Adapted from this recipe. Makes 16-24 cookies, depending on the size you cut them. I use a champagne flute and get 24.

INGREDIENTS

1 1/4 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg

pinch salt

4 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold, cubed

4 tablespoons lard, cold, broken into small pieces

1/4 cup sugar

1/3 cup Zante currants

1 large egg

2 tablespoons milk

2 additional tablespoons sugar, for sprinkling on the cookies

DIRECTIONS

Preheat an electric griddle to 350°F.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, nutmeg, and salt.

Add the cold butter cubes to the flour mixture. Using a pastry blender, fork, or two butter knives, cut in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

Stir in the sugar and currants.

Make a well in the center of the flour mixture and add the egg and milk. Using a fork, mix until the dough comes together. It will be slightly sticky. If it is very, very sticky and too wet, add a little more flour.

Turn the dough out onto a floured work surface. Sprinkle some flour over the top of the dough and shape it into a disc. Using a rolling pin, roll the dough out to a thickness of ¼ inch.

Using a 2½-inch round cookie cutter or biscuit cutter, cut out 14 cookies. You may have to re-roll the dough trimmings a few times.

Place as many cookies on the griddle as will fit without them touching each other.

Cook on the first side until the bottom is well browned, about 4 minutes.

Carefully flip over and cook until lightly browned, about 3 to 4 minutes.

Remove cookies from the griddle and place on a wire cooling rack. Immediately sprinkle with some sugar while the cookies are still warm.

If you were not able to fit all of your cookies on the griddle at once, repeat the process with the remaining cookies.

Serve warm or cooled.

NOTES

If you don’t have an electric griddle, you can use a non-stick frying pan or stove-top griddle. Start at medium-low to medium heat, watch the cookies carefully, and adjust the heat as necessary.

Raisins can be substituted for the currants, but I recommend using currants. They are smaller and will distribute more evenly throughout the dough. You can find them by the raisins in the grocery store.

Tip to making sure these don’t get overcooked: After you have flipped them over, when you think they are done, carefully (don’t touch the hot griddle/pan) and gently feel the edges of the cookies (give the cookies a light squeeze). The edges should be dry but have a little give. This will give you a soft, not-dried-out cookie. If the edges are hard and there is no give, they are likely overdone.

Total cooking time of 28 minutes is based on being able to cook these all in one batch. Please add about 8 minutes for cooking each additional batch.