Obsessed as I am with the flavor of olive oil, it makes sense that I'm obsessed with these cookies. They taste like olive oil and pistachios. That's it and that's all they need to be.
'pistachios' on Serious Eats
This is hands down one of my favorite cookies ever. Back in 1998, when I was still the pastry chef at The White Hart Inn in Salisbury, CT, I eyed a recipe for Triple Chocolate Cookies with Pistachios on the last page of my Gourmet magazine. A chocolate cookie studded with semisweet chocolate chips, white chocolate chunks, and pistachios. Um, yum!
I've also had the opportunity, after dark or hiding in the back corner of half-open ice cream shops, to taste some great ice creams. One flavor that was particularly delicious was a halvah ice cream, made with the region's signature sesame paste. Sweet and creamy with a nutty base note that pairs perfectly with the mixed-in almonds, cashews and pistachios. I've attempted to recreate the recipe here.
These Middle Eastern influenced whoopies begin with a cardamom-scented buttermilk brown sugar cake base studded with bright green pistachios. The filling is a pale pink buttercream accented with rosewater and vanilla, tinted with a few drops of red food coloring. When sandwiched together these spiced whoopies and perfumed filling these little cake-cookies are really gorgeous, pink and green and full of exotic flavors.
This recipe is an adaptation of Marcella Hazan's olive oil cake from Essentials of Classic Italian Cooking. The cake leans toward the savory side, flavored with rich and spicy olive oil and dry Marsala wine. The list of ingredients is brief but bountiful in flavor. I've added finely chopped pistachios and orange zest to this already wonderful cake for a personal touch.
There is a fancy gourmet market in my neighborhood that sells the most delicious pistachio butter. Brilliant green, slightly sweet, and intensely nutty, it's easily one of the best spreads I have ever eaten. The trouble is, it's imported from Italy and costs $30 a jar. Since I just can't live without it slathered on my morning toast, I decided to see if I could make a passable version at home for a fraction of the price.