Fruit

Banana bread was one of the great rewards for not eating all the bananas Mom bought for our lunch boxes. This hearty loaf is full of crimson berries and pecan chunks. When sliced and served in a napkin-lined basket, it rounds out any brunch. Leftovers are equally good for breakfast the next day. You can also bake the batter in muffin pans.

This recipe could almost be labeled a health bread, except that it tastes too good. It’s packed with a generous quantity of bananas, plus an assortment of mix-and-match dried fruit. Spread the bread with any of our fruit butters (pages 270–272) and serve at a fall or winter brunch.

Packed with all kinds of good ingredients, these muffins make a densely flavorful treat that, if paired with yogurt, could almost be a light meal on its own. Buckwheat flour is made from the dry fruit seeds of the buckwheat plant, and is available at most health food stores.

Good, ripe bananas lend plenty of natural sweetness to these muffins. Feel free to substitute another nut for the pecans if you like. I like using All-Bran for these muffins, as opposed to bran flakes, because it holds up very well during baking and lends a great nutty bran flavor to the muffins.

In springtime at the farmers’ market, rhubarb is a gloriously welcome sight after a winter of squash and potatoes. If possible, buy rhubarb at a farm stand or farmers’ market. If you are craving rhubarb when it’s not in season, frozen rhubarb is available at most supermarkets. Remember, if you pick your own rhubarb, use only the stalks, not the leaves as they are poisonous.

Citrus and chocolate is a classic flavor combination. It’s your call whether to use semisweet chocolate chips or bittersweet chocolate chips. You could also leave the chips out entirely, or substitute a half cup of chopped nuts of your choice instead.

Juicy blackberries garnish these moist, flavorful corn muffins, which have a soft and rich interior. Not overly sweet, these muffins go especially well with cheese omelets. Try substituting raspberries or blueberries for the blackberries.

These classic muffins are simple to make and taste great with just about any brunch dish. They have a generous proportion of berries to batter, which makes them extra appealing. Use fresh blueberries picked at the peak of the season or frozen ones that you were smart enough to pop into the freezer when they were abundant in the summer. You can also use good-quality store-bought frozen berries. Frozen berries tend to be juicy and very flavorful because they are picked and flash-frozen on the spot. These muffins freeze well and can be rewarmed in a 250°F oven for 15 minutes or so. They are delicious plain or with fresh fruit preserves.

As turnips do so well with orange, it is only a small step to use them with marmalade. Duck has this affinity too, so the three can come together successfully in a darkly sweet and rich casserole. Like duck à l’orange but sweeter and more suitable for a freezing winter’s day. The orange flavors here, from both fruit and bitter marmalade, should not dominate. The final flavor can be tweaked to your taste at the end with lemon juice or, better still, a bitter Seville orange. Rice, pure and white, would be my first choice of accompaniment. If you start this dish the day before, you will have a better chance of removing most of the fat that floats to the surface.

Young summer squashes of any sort grill rather well, but better if you salt them first, so that they relax rather than harden over the heat. As soon as they are lifted off the bars, I toss them in dressing, keeping them moist and silky. A side dish, and very good with mozzarella or feta.

The ideal here would be the pale, plump zucchini varieties you find in Middle Eastern markets. I visit one near London’s Edgware Road that even has them ready prepared, their seeds removed for stuffing, and packed into little plastic crates. If these torpedo-shaped squashes escape me, and they often do, then I use the ubiquitous type, halve them lengthwise and scatter the filling loosely over the top rather than making a clumsy attempt to stuff them. The classic zucchini stuffings of the Middle East vary from family to family but usually include cooked rice or ground lamb, or occasionally walnuts, pine nuts, or hazelnuts, stirred into softened onion and then lightly seasoned with allspice, tomato paste, and parsley. The effect is a moist filling of elegance and pleasing predictability. I sometimes want something more unusual. A stuffing that intrigues as much as it pleases.

How a dish smells is important. It whets the appetite, brings us to the table, and opens up a host of pleasures. With coconut, cardamom, and coriander, this simple dish of baked tomatoes is heady and aromatic. It curdles a bit, but no matter. You will need some rice or bread to go with it. Creamed coconut, a block of pure dried coconut, is available at Asian markets and online.

The fry-up has always appealed to me, in particular the bits that stay put at the bottom of the pan, the crusty scrapings that brown rather too much. I call them “the pan-stickings.” One of potato and duck fat is a deep-winter supper of immense pleasure; another of herb-speckled sausage meat and zucchini. This is robust cooking, crisp edged and flecked black and gold. It is not for those days when you want something genteel or elegant. This is the sort of supper to pile on a plate and eat with a cold beer. The latest of my fry-ups is extraordinary in that two generally sweet ingredients come together to produce a deeply savory result. The key here is not to move the ingredients around the pan too much, letting them take on a sticky crust while allowing them to soften to a point where you can squash them with little or no pressure. The caraway seeds, which people tend to either love or hate, are entirely optional.

Marrying textures and tastes to one another is one of the most satisfying pleasures of cooking: the soft with the crisp, the steamily hot with the icily cold, the spicy with the mint cool. I somehow had a feeling that crisp crumbs might work well with the soft, collapsing flesh of a squash. They do, but are more interesting when the crumbs are not packed on top like a crumble but lightly scattered over and between the pieces of squash.

I have eaten these onions, at once caramel sweet and pickle sour, with bread and cheese, and that is really what I meant them for. But they also make a sticky accompaniment for a roast—maybe a fillet of lamb or pork—and are good on the side with cold roast beef, kept pink and sweet. I serve them warm rather than hot or chilled.

Onions are used in most stuffings, both lightening the rice, couscous, or breadcrumbs and introducing sweetness. As they melt down, they keep the filling moist. Ask the butcher to prepare your shoulder of lamb for stuffing. When the bone is removed, it provides a neat pocket that will hold just the right amount.