Acorn Biscotti

Turns out acorns aren't just for squirrels. They're for humans, too- and they tase pretty darn good in biscotti. Weird, natural AND obscure!

(Click here to jump to the recommended song, Brains by Aurelio Voltaire!)

Howdy, rebels! Sorry for the embarrassingly short post on Thursday. I must take full responsibility for the crappy way I handled it. I didn't think the subject matter would be an absolute nothing sandwich, and I'd already "promised" to write something about maple syrup being out-of-season. So yes, apologies.

Can't say it'll never happen again because I'm in the Early Installment Weirdness phase. I'm sure one day I'll regret 11 out of 10 of these posts.

Anyway! Every fall I used to make acorn bread. My family hated it, but they were too nice to say so and ignored it instead, making me (read: our chickens) eat the rest. My dad said it "tasted honest", which I take as a compliment, but I wonder if it's not just him turning a negative into a positive.

This year I realized there might be one way I can finally get my family to eat acorns: Biscotti. Specifically cantuccini.

You know, the type of biscotti we call biscotti even though "biscotti" is just the plural of cookie in Italian? We're making those. But with acorns.

As with many other strange foods the FDA has no reference point for, you may want to ask your doctor before eating acorns. You should avoid them altogether if you're allergic to tree nuts.

Let's do this!

#1. GATHER MATERIALS 

To find fresh acorns, you will either need to 

1. Find them on the ground or 

2. Set up a whole bunch of giant funnels under the oak trees so the acorns drop into the funnels, go through a system of tubes and land in a giant bucket.

I can guess which option you're more likely to take.

Finding the "right" tree to look under is kind of a crapshoot. Each oak tree is on a different "cycle", so you'll have to pay attention to make sure you don't miss out. To gather the nuts, I advise finding a mostly dry location where the acorns are clearly visible and you can watch or hear them fall. This way they're almost guaranteed not to be rotten on the inside.

You can tell an acorn is ready when it's completely brown and without the little "hat" on top. If it has the hat, that means it wasn't ready and the tree may have rejected it for another reason. 

Many of the acorns you find will be rotten or infested. There may be black spots which you can cut off, or mealy brown "veins" from acorn grubs eating through. What counts as "salvageable" is up to you.

Personally I think the acorn grubs themselves count. When raw they taste like avocado and when fried (they're fatty enough that no oil is needed) they have a taste and texture similar to unflavored cheese puffs. 

If you think that's disgusting, I would like you to write your elaborate and specific arguments because "bugs are gross" is NOT an answer. I already know you think they're gross. Please tell me why. While I'm at it, "eating bugs is primitive" is also not an answer because you haven't convinced me why that's a bad thing.

ANYWAY! (I'm sorry, I get very adamant about this stuff.)

This year I found the best acorns in the "gutter" of a quiet road. This one tree was just spittin' em out. These are white acorns, which are larger and less bitter than black acorns, and have thinner shells.

Acorn row, baby.

 I got so many acorns that morning, I had to start putting them in my pockets. Which then became Scrooge McDuck vaults for my hands.

Me placing outrageous amounts of acorns on the counter.

#2. PROCESSING

Now you'll need to crack the acorns open.

All you really need is a crack that you can pry open with your fingers. Here's the method I used with a glass and a stone countertop:

I forgot where our nutcracker went.

 

The cross-section of a white acorn.

That's the most tedious step since you have to crack and open each. Individual. One. But you might have some willing assistants. I did not.

Not as tedious but still time-consuming is the most important step of all- leaching. Not leeching. That wouldn't even work. No.

Acorns are high in tannins. Tannins are astringent, meaning drying. They are responsible for the "dry" quality of some wines, and physically make your mouth feel dry. They're also very bitter.

Since tannin tastes bad (at least to normal people if there's too much), we want to get rid of it.

To do this, we put the acorns in a pot/saucepan of water and boil them. Since tannins are water-soluble, they leach out into the water.

Note the similar color to black tea- THAT'S how tannic these little dudes are.

 

Most acorn-related recipes say you need to change the water many times, but similarly to my birch beer recipe I've found I can simmer the acorns for hours and get a satisfying result from only two or three changes of water. 

The bulk of my acorns were white acorns, though. If you get black acorns (the short, often stripey ones) you might want to boil them longer. Black acorns have a higher concentration of tannin, so they're more bitter.

I'm not sure why to change the water at all, but maybe (maybe, ask a chemist) the tannins in the water reach an equilibrium with the acorns and it becomes physically impossible for the water to have more tannin than the acorns. There's some science-y word for that, I just forget what it is...

After boiling them for a little while, they should turn brownish. If you're brave enough, you can taste the acorns at any time to see if they're palatable.

Next chop the acorns into tiny, not-quite-minced bits, put them on a baking sheet and roast them in the oven. Roasting the acorns gives them the texture we want and takes some of the edge off the tannin.

I like to roast my acorns at 350 degrees Fahrenheit for 30 minutes, but that's obviously just a guideline. The desired burntness of your acorns is up to you. Just don't forget to preheat!

Roasted acorns from an earlier, disappointingly small batch.

Then mill the roasted acorns in the most efficient and effective way you can- food processor, mortar and pestle, stump grinder, whatever. You'll want the acorn meal as fine as possible, though. Even I got unpleasantly hard bits in my biscotti when I first tried this.

VERY IMPORTANT NOTE: The yield of acorns is frustratingly low. You may only get 1/4 to 1/3 cup of acorn meal. The recipe SAYS it "requires" 1/3 cup, but you're probably very tired by the time you've done all this so you can fill in the difference with regular flour.

#3: THE ACTUAL RECIPE

You made it! You've done all that gathering and processing to get your tiny, tiny amount of acorn meal and now you're ready for the part you clicked for in the first place.

INGREDIENTS:

- 1 stick unsalted butter, softened

 

- 3/4 cup granulated sugar
 

- 1 eggs, room temperature, beaten
 

- 1/2 cup sour cream
 

- 1 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
 

- 1/3 cup acorn meal
 

- 1/2 tsp baking soda
 

- 1/2 tsp baking powder
 

- Dandelion Spice (optional, to taste)

INSTRUCTIONS: 

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
 

2. Cream butter and sugar well with an electric mixer. Add eggs and sour cream. Mix between each ingredient.

 

3. In a separate bowl, mix flour, baking soda, and baking powder. Optional: Add Dandelion Spice, to taste. See how this spice mix immediately became relevant again?
 

4. Add dry ingredients to wet ingredients and mix until the dough is sticky (do not add more flour).
 

5. Grease one cookie sheet with butter.
 

6. Form two loaves out of the dough and place on cookie sheet. You want a mostly flat shape that's rounded down on the edges.

I uh, ate the end pieces.

 

7. Bake for 35 minutes. Remove from the pan and place on a cooling rack.

 

8. Slice the loaves with a non-serrated knife (a serrated one will tear pieces off). Make sure it's completely cooled before doing this.

 

9. Lay the slices on the cookie sheet and bake for another 15 minutes. Then flip over the slices and bake for an additional 4 minutes to get them evenly cooked.

 

And there you have it! Acorn biscotti. They're good. My dad says so.

I'll leave you off with Brains! by Aurelio Voltaire (as seen in The Grim Adventures of Billy and Mandy), because cracking open acorns and eating the contents is kinda like cracking a skull and eating the contents. Right?

Also, even though he's definitely pure evil, I like Voltaire's voice. It's, uh, nice. Ahem. Yes, that's the adjective I'm looking for. Nice.

 Stay sexy (and spooky)!