Biscotti played nicely
With the fruit resting comfortably in a large Cambro container, my attention turned to cookies. Biscotti played nicely, but Pizzelle, less so. Requiring a brief spin through an antiquated iron, the anise spiked waffle cookies were needy. The waffle iron was cranky, with a history of shorting out mid-bake. Pizzelle were finicky and fragile and popular amongst the line cooks. During service, the same person responsible for salads was the person plating desserts. (That always troubled me; pesto and pineapple sharing tight quarters.) Pleading with the kitchen crew not to snack on the cookies, I pitched my hours old cappuccino in defiance. Due to its popularity (with both patrons and back of house), the dessert special became a regular menu item, pausing only briefly when the Pizzelle iron drew its final anise scented breath.
A recipe suggestion tagged along with each case of baby fruit. One was no different than a recipe from a 1920s cookbook for “stewed pineapple compote.” I incorportaed the compote into a classic Italian crostata, sandwiched between a short-crust pastry, aka pasta frolla. What makes this filling particularly appealing now is that it doesn’t call for eggs, and if you opt for a cookie crumb crust, there’s not much butter involved. I’d be lying if I didn’t acknowledge that pineapples trigger some less-than-stellar memories for me. I’m still a little skittish around anise extract, Pizzelle irons and baby pineapples, but that’s strictly a personal problem.