Inspiration for these cookies come from a few different sources, the first being the Corn Cookies at Christina Tosi's Momofuku Milk Bar, which she calls a "sleeper" hit. So a corn cookie is one thing, but a PEA cookie, you might ask? I know, I know—it's a little weird, but hear me out. Back in October, some friends from out of town were visiting, and, having heard me and others (like Bon Appétit magazine) rave about Rose's Luxury here in DC, they were itching to go. On a Saturday evening, we waited in line the requisite 1 1/2 hours (really not that bad). As you might expect, the entire dinner was fabulous, with such an air of comfort and pleasantness and, yes, a little bit o' luxury, but what really did it for me was in the final blow by way of THE PEA CAKE. Our server told us it was a yellow cake with peas in it (we imagined peas mixed in throughout, like chocolate in a chocolate chip cookie), but when it came out, it was bright green, served with a mint curd, pea shoots, borage, and candied pistachios. It tasted like SPRING and literally sent shivers down my spine.
Ever since then, I've been wanting to put peas in my sweet baked goods. I found a similar green pea cake recipe. But I got to thinking: Would a pea cookie work? After I confirmed my hunch that green pea flour is actually "a thing," I ordered some from Bob's Red Mill, along with some freeze-dried peas, and gave it a go. The result is maybe not on a Rose's Luxury level (not much is), but these Pea Cookies are soft and sweet, not to mention unusually fresh-tasting and brilliantly colored. As a childhood pea-hater, I wish I'd been offered these as an option.
Recipe adapted from Christina Tosi, originally posted on Nothing in the House: http://www.nothinginthehouse.com/2014/12/pea-corn-cookies.html —Nothing in the House // Emily Hilliard
You may be skeptical about a recipe for pea cookies, and I don't blame you. When I tasted a little of the raw dough I was a bit worried. After tasting the finished cookie I was beguiled. The overtly pea-flavored dough had transformed into a barely vegetal and slightly nutty sugar cookie. It's the kind of subtle flavor that makes you think you'll have it figured out after another bite or two, but you'll be wrong. The recipe makes 12 large cookies, though claims to make 2 dozen servings -- prudent perhaps, but don't expect me to share my cookie since I've not quite put my finger on that intriguing flavor. —hardlikearmour
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