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Technically, “Styrofoam” is a trademarked brand of extruded polystyrene foam manufactured by DuPont. But I think I can safely use it here because I’m just quoting the title from B. Dylan Hollis, who included this recipe in his “Baking Yesteryear” book, in the “1940s” chapter.
Why call these cookies “Styrofoams?” Indeed, why would anyone want to taste something named after an inedible packing/insulating material? I think Hollis does a fine job of explaining in his introduction to the recipe:
“Usually, a compulsion to eat Styrofoam would be considered a medical issue, and about halfway through the list of worthy reasons for institutionalization. However, this macaroon has a delightful sense of humor as it makes you do just that — compulsively want to eat Styrofoam. These macaroons are a dead simple concept and a fantastic take on a truly different peanut butter cookie. A sweet and crispy shell with a hollow center comes before a quaint chew of peanut-buttery goodness. They are a quirky experience in the mouth, there’s no denying it — but how could you deny these?
(As an aside, there is a medical condition called pica in which people compulsively eat things that aren’t food).
While my retirement from full-time work at the paper meant less access to the newsroom taste testers, MT did agree to take these in for some comments. I confess I was a bit surprised when she reported back that more than one person said they tasted better than they looked. Fresh out of the oven and neatly arrayed on a plate, they look like a very tasty cookie, to me. Then, as legendary radio personality Paul Harvey loved to say, she told me “the rest of the story.”
I had put the macaroons in a small cookie tin (of course, like all such containers these days, there is no actual tin in the can, just as there is no actual Styrofoam in the cookies). Apparently, a near-accident caused by a thoughtless driver doing a U-turn in front of MT sent the tin flipping onto the floor of our car, upside down. Knowing how frail the tops of these tasty tidbits are (they crumble even when you carefully try to cut them), I could just imagine what they looked like upon arrival at the TL. Not that it matters, the cookies were expendable.
It might be worth noting I had thought of adding some padding between the cookies and the tin top (crumpled paper towels came to mind, not Styrofoam, which would have been more appropriate), but figured it was such a short trip it wouldn’t really matter.
So here are results of the taste test:
“They taste a lot better than they look,” columnist Bill O’Boyle said.
Publisher Kerry Miscavage and news editor Liz Baumeister agreed with his assessment, with Liz adding they were “a little dry.”
Would you compare them to Styrofoam? MT asked.
“Yeah, yeah,” Liz said, nodding and asking if this was a Dylan Hollis recipe. It turns out, she is a fan of the eccentric cookbook author.
The last person in the office to try them, page designer Ashley Bringmann, told MT “honestly, I tried to take a bite and couldn’t,” explaining she found it “too hard.”
But MT and her mom liked the cookies — and didn’t care how they looked.
Bottom line, these are simple, pretty quick and tasty, and bound to spark interest once you tell guests what they are called. Be forewarned, the recipe says it only makes about a dozen cookies, and that’s pretty accurate to what I ended up with, so if you are making them for a crowd either make more or make them smaller — though it seems likely you could lose some of the intended crispy puffing on the top by doing the latter.
Dobru chut!
Peanut Butter Styrofoams (Baking Yesteryear, B. Dylan Hollis)
Whites of 2 large eggs
¾ cup granulated sugar
½ cup peanut butter
Heat the oven to 325°
In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk attachment, or a large bowl with an electric hand mixer, beat the whites to stiff peaks. Gradually add the sugar two tablespoons at a time while you continue beating. Beat until stiff, glossy peaks are formed.
In a separate bowl, beat the peanut butter to soften it before folding into the egg white mixture. Leaving streaks of peanut butter is fine.
Drop by a level tablespoon or small cookie scoop onto parchment-lined baking sheet and bake 20-22 minutes. Cool completely on the baking sheet before removing. Store in an air -tight container.