It was a propitious intersection of two unrelated events. First, we were out of gochujang, a Korean miso and chile paste, and I needed to replenish our supply—we've become intolerant of store-bought varieties that are curiously devoid of texture and have no depth of flavor compared to the homemade version shared by my friend's family. Secondly, Thanksgiving was fast approaching and I needed to pull together a simple appetizer board to offer our guests. 

So I jumped in and made up a batch of the gochujang, a simple task as far as gathering ingredients goes, but one that takes a good afternoon of standing over a frying pan and stirring the paste to get it to just the right level of jammy brownness. Fortunately it makes enough to last several months, at least in our household, so it is well worth the time invested

After finishing the gochujang, I turned to the appetizers we needed for the holiday. I'd made some cheesy chile crisp crackers—actually more cookie-like in both size and texture, like French sablés—from a recipe in Dorie Greenspan's xoxo Dorie newsletter. While we love our chile crisp around here, especially her preferred brand, Fly by Jing, I wanted to make Dorie's recipe again, but substituting gochujang for the chile crisp.

The crackers are a cinch to whip up in the processor, and it's easy to form them into a log and roll it in the sesame seeds on a sheet pan. The rolled log needs to firm up in the fridge, and though I could have sliced and baked it after chilling it for a half hour, I decided to bake it the next day, making it easier to slice.

The gochujang gave the little cookie-like wafers a definite hint of umami from the miso, and the slight zing of heat from the cayenne in the sauce carried through nicely. I can't wait to hear what our guests think!

Zingy Gochujang Cheese Crackers

Adapted from Dorie Greenspan's xoxo Dorie newsletter, adapted from Helen Goh’s "Baking & The Meaning of Life"

2 Tbsp. black sesame seeds (toasted white seeds or a combination are fine, too)
1 c. plus 3 Tbsp. (150 grams) flour
2/3 c. (70 grams) finely grated parmesan cheese
1 tsp. sugar
3/4 tsp. fine sea salt
6 Tbsp.(80 grams) butter, very cold, diced
3 Tbsp.(60 grams) gochujang
1 large egg yolk
1 1/2 tsp. lemon juice
1 1/2 oz. (40 grams) green onion, slivered

Scatter the sesame seeds on a baking sheet and set aside.

In the bowl of a food processor, put the flour, parmesan, sugar, and salt and pulse a few times to combine. Add in the diced butter, processing until the mixture is crumbly. Add in the gochujang, egg yolk, and lemon juice, pulsing until it just begins to clump up (Dorie says it should resemble wet sand), then put the mixture into a large bowl and add the green onion, stirring to combine, then press it into a ball.

Place on a board or butcher block, and form the dough into a round log about 10 inches (25 cm) long and 1½ inches (4 cm) in diameter. Carefully place the log on the sheet with the sesame seeds, then roll it until it's covered in the seeds (press extra seeds into any bare patches). Wrap it in plastic wrap and refrigerate for 30 minutes.

Take it out of the fridge and leave it wrapped, rolling it into a more even log if necessary. (At this point you keep it tightly wrapped in the freezer for up to one month; no need to defrost before cutting and baking.)

Preheat the oven to 350° and line a baking sheet with parchment paper.

Slice the log crosswise into coins 3/8" thick and place them on the lined baking sheet, pressing them back into shape if they break. Bake 20 minutes until barely browned on the top. Dorie notes "the bottoms of the crackers will be a deeper reddish-brown from the gochujang as well as the direct contact with the heat of the sheet—this is as it should be."

Soft when warm, they'll crisp up as they cool. It's difficult not to eat them right then and there, but Dorie says they are at their best a day of two later, "when they’ve dried out a little and the flavors have had time to meld together. They will keep, loosely wrapped in foil, for up to 5 days."

As I write this, I'm looking out my kitchen windows at snow-covered yards and roofs, listening to the crackle and crash of ice falling from our trees and the tapping sound of icicles dripping from our gutters. We've had one of our February dumps of snow followed by an ice storm that has left a quarter of the city without power, some of whom won't be reconnected for at least a week.

Fortunately, so far we have only experienced about an hour without power, though I've been forcing Dave to grind coffee in the electric grinder before we go to bed at night, just in case. Yesterday was Valentine's day, and Dave spent it smoking one of his signature briskets, as well as making a Japanese-style milk bread, which he's been obsessing over since reading about it on the King Arthur website.

It's a sweetened, fluffy white bread that was perfect with the deep, moist, peppery smoked brisket and it soaked up the dark, salty juices like a champ. But you might well ask why I'm writing about brisket and milk bread in a post that's supposed to be about lemon curd. It's because for breakfast this morning we had thick slices of that slightly sweet, spongy bread toasted and spread with the Meyer lemon curd I've been making by the quart lately.

You know my "thing" about Meyer lemons, right? I've currently got two big Mason jars of preserved Meyer lemons curing in their salty brine in the fridge, and the puckery tang of my Meyer lemon tart reminded me I wanted to learn to make lemon curd. After all, the lemon filling is basically lemon curd, right?

I set about searching for an easy, simple recipe for curd and ran across one by Dorie Greenspan, who begins her biography with the words "I burned my parents’ kitchen down when I was 12 and didn’t cook again until I got married." Since then, luckily for us, she's written 13 cookbooks and is the "On Dessert" columnist for the venerable New York Times.

Funny and smart, her writing is always delightful and, at the same time, down to earth, and her recipes—certainly the ones I've tried—are bullet-proof. The same proved true when I made her lemon curd, which she describes as having a "texture [that] is smooth and comforting and its flavor is zesty, a delicious contradiction."

It takes less than half an hour to make, assuming you've got lemons on hand—either regular or Meyer lemons will work—and the result, while fabulous on scones, biscuits or that toasted milk bread, is something you'll be tempted to sneak spoonfuls of when no one's looking.

And yes, I actually have her personal blessing to share it with you. Thanks, Dorie!

Dorie Greenspan's Lemon Curd

1 1/4 c. (250 grams) sugar
4 large eggs
1 Tbsp. light corn syrup (I made up a substitute using 1/2 c. sugar dissolved in 2 Tbsp. hot water)
3/4 cup (180 milliliters) freshly squeezed lemon juice (4 to 6 lemons)
1 stick (8 tablespoons; 4 ounces; 113 grams) unsalted butter, cut into chunks

Whisk the sugar, eggs, corn syrup and lemon juice together in a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan. Drop in the pieces of butter.

Put the saucepan over medium heat and start whisking. You want to get into the corners of the pan, so if your whisk is too big for the job, switch to a wooden or silicone spatula. Cook, continuing to whisk—don’t stop—for 6 to 8 minutes, until the curd starts to thicken. When it is noticeably thickened and, most important, you see a bubble or two come to the surface, stop; the curd is ready.

Immediately scrape the curd into a heatproof bowl or canning jar or two. Press a piece of plastic wrap against the surface to create an airtight seal and let the curd cool to room temperature, then refrigerate.