People, bake these cookies. Today.
Armed with the knowledge of my interest in cookie-baking, my colleague Kim Ode appeared at my desk, tempting me with "something I thought you would find interesting," she said. And how.
She handed me a catalogue-sized teaser from publisher Simon & Schuster, a promotion piece for the upcoming cookbook by the inventor of the Cronut, Dominique Ansel.
It's unclear if the recipe for the nation's most talked-about pastry (a kind of doughnut-croissant smash-up) will be included in "Dominique Ansel: The Secret Recipes." While the publisher's sneak peak includes the book's table of contents, and a subhead under Chapter 3 reads "The Real Cronut Lesson," my guess is that it doesn't reveal trade secrets. After all, the Cronut portion of Ansel's bakery's website is peppered with words like "proprietary" and "registered trademark."
Not that this home baker is particularly interested. The prospect of deep-frying laminated dough in my kitchen triggers the kind of anxiety I normally associate with watching Shelley Duvall cope with Jack Nicholson in "The Shining," so I'll leave that daunting task to the professionals, and enjoy -- from afar -- the ritual where fanatics queue up for hours outside Ansel's New York City bakery for a crack at the Cronut.
No, we didn't discuss the scalpers' market that has mushroomed in the wake of such insane demand. As former New York Post gossip columnist Cindy Adams would famously say, "Only in New York, kids, only in New York."
Instead, Kim directed my attention to the flyer's last two inside pages, which feature a recipe for a flourless chocolate cookie with pecans. Cronut, schmonut; one glance and I knew that I'd be first in line to buy Ansel's book upon its October release.
The pictures certainly captured my attention -- truly, they epitomize hard-core food porn -- but the clincher was the author's comment at the top of the recipe, which reads, "I love making this recipe. . .because of its forgiving nature and utterly addictive results."