After spending a considerable amount of time on holiday, I’m now back cooking in a commerical kitchen and admittedly, I’ve really missed it. Several years, a few kitchens and a couple of unpleasant experiences ago, I really thought I was done with the whole business. What I’m rediscovering however, is that if you love cooking but occasionally feel discouraged, it’s probably because you just haven’t found the right place yet.

Of course, the only way to find the right place is to keep working, keep pushing yourself. Cooking school may be great, but it doesn’t teach you work flow, a sense of urgency or how to move in the tight space of a bustling, sweaty kitchen. You meet all kinds of characters when you work in the industry. The adage that they are a special breed rings true in every place I’ve ever worked in. Singing baristas, grumpy bakers, OCD pastry chefs and angry-shouty head chefs; you’ll meet them all. You’ll even learn a thing or two from them; always about how to work and sometimes about yourself.

Currently my new job is teaching me how to manage multiple ovens and handle dough (one day, I may be able to give Miss Smilla and her snow a run for her money). At the same time I’m also rediscovering little things like how short and small I am compared to high storage shelves, heavy flour bags and unwieldy baking trays, and how completely clumsy I can be (paper cuts from baking paper, anyone?). In the past I’ve smashed my thumb instead of a stubborn walnut with a heavy pestle, walked straight into a hot oven door (red faced from embarrassment and the impact of said door), and inexplicably burned my chin several times on silly things like the edge of a hot tray and the tip of a blow torch (the less said about that, the better).

Last week, someone at work commented twice, that my English was ‘really good’. I pointed out that since I am older than her, I have actually been speaking English for much longer than she has. Although I’ve been living in Australia for what feels like most of my life, I was originally born in a small town near Kuala Lumpur, Malaysia, and am occasionally reminded of that place.

These cookies are based on the much loved Monte Carlos which are typically sandwiched with vanilla cream and raspberry jam. I filled mine with home made kaya jam (flavoured with fresh pandan leaves), and as an ode to the place where I came from, am calling them Kuala Lumpurs.

Kuala Lumpur Cookies :
(makes 18-20 filled cookies)

185g unsalted butter, at room temperature
100g light brown sugar
pinch of sea salt
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1 small egg
40g dessicated coconut
290g plain flour
2 teaspoons baking powder

kaya jam, for sandwiching the cookies

Preheat the oven to 175’C.

Sift the plain flour and baking powder together and set aside. In an electric mixer, cream the butter, brown sugar and salt until pale. Add the vanilla extract and egg, mixing well. Add the sifted flour mixture along with the dessicated coconut and briefly mix on low until just combined. Roll tablespoonfuls of mixture into balls and place on lined baking trays. Gently flatten each cookie with a fork. Bake for about 15 minutes or until golden brown. Allow to cool on a wire rack before filling and sandwiching the cookies together.

I’ve only recently discovered a world of Turkish sweets that extends far beyond lokum and the ever popular syrupy baklava. Take these lemon meringue cookies for example. Just when you think you’ve seen and eaten every imaginable cookie, someone decides to spread meringue on cookie dough, roll it up, bake it, and unsurprisingly, it tastes pretty darn fantastic.

The cookies expand slightly in the oven and come out resembling a rose while smelling like a combination of nutty butter and lemon peel. Biting into one reveals a range of magical textures from tender crumbly cookie to meringue that is soft in the middle and slightly crisp around the edges. I haven’t yet managed to stop at just one.

This recipe lends itself to many variations. Chocolate with crunchy hazelnut meringue or an applied thin layer of cumquat marmalade come immediately to mind. Do let me know if you happen to experiment with any other flavours!

Lemon Meringue Cookies :
(makes 12, adapted from a recipe from Turkish Bakery Delight by Deniz Göktürk Akçakanat)

For the pastry :
1 small egg
25g caster sugar
150g unsalted butter
180g plain flour
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
pinch of sea salt

For the meringue :
2 egg whites
pinch of sea salt
125g caster sugar
zest from 1 large lemon

In a food processor (or Thermomix), combine the egg, sugar, butter and salt. Process until creamy. Add the flour and baking powder, processing until a dough just forms. Press the dough out into a flat disc, wrap and chill for at least 30 minutes.

When ready to bake the cookies, preheat the oven to 160’C. Make the meringue by whisking the egg whites and salt in a mixer until foamy. Gradually add the sugar, whisking until the meringue is stiff and glossy. Stir in the lemon zest.

Roll the dough out to a rectangle roughly measuring 12″ x 9″, with the longest side of the rectangle facing you. Spread the meringue on the dough, leaving a 1″ border all around. Gently roll the dough up. This may be a bit messy as the meringue will try to escape a little but it’s worth persevering, I promise.

Cut the log into 12. Arrange the cookies cut side up on a lined baking tray. Bake for 20-25 minutes until the cookies are golden.

The above loaf was double glazed, sprinkled with poppyseeds and slipped into the oven. For forty agonising minutes, there was a gentle scent of warm honey in the air. All I wanted to do was star-wipe to the moment when I would be sitting down to a plate of fresh challah French toast. Soon, soon.

In truth, I don’t eat much French toast or even bake challah very often. But over a bowl of oatmeal the other morning, I found myself fantasising about a pile of fried eggy bread, dripping with honey and sweet blueberries. (Yes, I often think about other foods I’m not eating as I eat. Doesn’t everyone? Some things are a little harder to attain at short notice though.. like a fresh fish breakfast from Tokyo’s Tsukiji market or one of Pierre Herme’s magical Ispahan macarons.)

The general lack of fresh baked challah in our home probably stems from my fear of braids. Having lived most of my life thus far under the same bowl haircut, you could say what was lacking was sufficient childhood braiding experience. For the purposes of this exercise, I used Rose Levy Berenbaum’s traditional challah recipe from her book, which you can also find here. After gravely contemplating instructions for the 6-braid loaf, I wimped out and opted for the simpler 3-braid, which still managed to get screwed up slightly.

But I did learn a few things along the way.

If you prepare the dough the day before and chill it overnight, you can bake it the next day, just in time for morning tea. There are several subtle things you can do to enhance the quality or flavour of the loaf. Substituting honey for sugar makes the baking bread smell *amazing* and the flavour in the end product is really lovely and delicate. Melissa Clark uses orange juice and extra virgin olive oil in her recipe, which I can imagine must also make for a very delicious loaf. If you’re considering making this, go for 6-braids. There’s even whispers of a 9-braid loaf for the most daring.

Do it, and let me know what time I should be over for breakfast.