Fruit

I definitely have obsessive-compulsive baking disorder. I’d hoped to recreate the classic gâteau de riz, a French cake made by baking rice pudding in a mold. I tried fourteen times. The first time I made it, it was perfect: custardy and topped with a deep-golden crust, the top and sides bathed with a slick of glossy, thick caramel. When I attempted to reproduce it, it came out completely different with each try. Flummoxed, I sent my recipe to a friend in California. She made it two or three times and each time she also had completely different results. After a transcontinental tossing up of our hands, in her last anxiety-ridden response she told me, “but right out of the pot, it was the best rice pudding I’ve ever had.” And when I made it again, for the fifteenth time, I realized she was right.

My grandmother used to throw a fit if I ordered something as simple as fruit salad or soup in a restaurant. “Why pay for that? You can make it at home,” she’d say in a voice that made you feel like a fool if you had the temerity to disagree. “Order something else!” Anyone who met my grandmother knew it was best not to cross her. Otherwise, you’d hear about it, repeatedly, for the next three to five years. Minimum. I feel that way about bread pudding. It’s something I want at home, not in a restaurant. My version mingles orange and almond and is a much more refined and luxurious than the usual bread pudding. Enjoy it in the comfort of your own dining room, but pretend you’re eating it in a restaurant, without anyone to harp on you about it. In case any of your guests decides to leave a tip, I’ll gladly accept my 15 percent.

Sweet, creamy mashed banana pulp is an ideal soufflé base, but if you think bananas are just too humble to be turned into an elegant dessert worthy of serving to guests, try these simple soufflés spruced up with some warm chocolate sauce passed alongside. Be sure the bananas that you use are really ripe—the skins of yellow bananas (as opposed to red ones that are less common) should be covered with black speckles and their texture should be soft.

When I worked as a pastry chef, I became known as “the crème brûlée bully” because I decided one night that I had had enough of crème brûlée and stopped serving it altogether. The reason? It was all that was ever ordered, and everything else on my menu went ignored. I realize now that I should have been flattered that guests liked my crème brûlée so much, and I apologize to anyone who left the restaurant feeling denied their favorite dessert. As reparation, I offer this recipe for lemon-ginger crème brûlée, the most popular flavor of the many that I’ve made, and hope I’m forgiven.

I think there are two types of people in this world: the lemon people and the chocolate people. This recipe is for the lemon people. But if you want to try to please both, you could add a scant 1/2 cup white chocolate chips to the soufflé base when folding in the egg whites.

These light, lean soufflés get their lively flavor from the intensity of readily available dried apricots, so this dessert offers the added bonus that it can be made all year. It’s imperative to use the highly flavorful dried apricots from California rather than imported varieties, which are bland and uninspiring. You won’t be disappointed.

Many countries have a version of caramelized custard turned out of its mold for serving—from Mexico’s flan to France’s crème renversée. No border seems to be a barrier to the migration of this universally popular dessert. Cardamom is rather an exotic spice, but it is sometimes used in classic American coffee cakes and other familiar baked goods. Do not buy preground cardamom because its flavor dissipates quickly and you’ll miss the wonderful aroma released by cracking the seeds yourself. Oftentimes, cardamom seeds are sold still in their papery husks or pods, which should be peeled away to reveal the seeds within.

The surprising zip of fruit chutney counters the richness of mousse au chocolat and adds a whole other dimension to this unconventional dessert. I don’t know if it’s a combination the French would approve of, but when I made it as a pastry chef on a cruise line, a few thousand people gave their consent. Each plate that came back to the kitchen was scraped clean. Unlike traditional chocolate mousse that uses uncooked eggs, this one has a cooked custard base. So, there’s no reason for anyone with concerns about consuming raw eggs to jump ship rather than dive into this dessert full-steam ahead.

Not all gelatin desserts are squidgy, old-fashioned jelled rings studded with oversweetened canned fruits. Take this thoroughly modern dessert, for example. You’ll see why it won top honors from a national food magazine that called it one of the “Top Ten Desserts of All Time.”

One of the questions I’m often asked is “How do you stay so thin?” I want to respond by saying that I’m about average for my height and age, but instead I tell people that I eat only my own desserts. I’m not just being a salesman, it’s close to the truth. Aside from the occasional treat, for everyday meals, I prefer to make desserts that are well balanced rather than outrageously rich. I’ll often serve small slivers of cake, a plate of cookies, or scoops of icy sorbet along with a fresh fruit compote and have never met with resistance from any of my guests. When it comes to this virtuous fruit soup, the thin sheet of crackly coconut meringue always seals the deal for those who are doubtful that lean can taste luxurious.

There was an expression—“too good to use”—at a certain well-known restaurant where I used to work. One of the cooks coined the phrase to describe what we, the pastry people, would do: hoard beautiful fruits and berries, buying much more than we could possibly use. We considered the fruits so precious that we’d hold off using them, waiting for something very special or just the right moment. Eventually, though, we’d find ourselves with a glut on our hands and had to scramble to use up our stash before it went bad. If you find yourself in a similar position or if you’re just looking for the great summer dessert loaded with lots of juicy berries, this is it. And if anyone says your summer pudding looks too good to eat, don’t believe them. Just dig right in.

There are a lot of rather timid recipes for baked apples out there, but this one, packed with spicy ginger and sweet dates, is a twist on the usual homey fare. It’s a dessert that pleads to be topped with a scoop of ice cream that will melt from the warmth of the fruit. These apples also make an eye-opening breakfast when you’re weary of the same old eggs-and-toast routine. If you’re anything like me, you’re not at your peak in the morning, so bake them the night before, then rewarm them while the coffee is brewing. At breakfast, ice cream is optional.

The almond-scented French cakes known as financiers are traditionally baked in small rectangular shapes meant to resemble bars of gold. Unless you’re loaded, you likely don’t have 12 fancy, expensive French rectangular baking molds lying around, so I’ve adapted this recipe for baking in a standard-size muffin tin, which works beautifully—and won’t lead you to finanicial ruin.

I’ve been living with a kitchen a fraction of the size of a normal kitchen for a number of years, so I’m always looking out for desserts that can be made with a minimum of fuss. And I’m happy when a dessert requires a minimal amount of counter space because between my imposing stand mixer and the half-eaten chocolate bars and other edibles scattered around my kitchen (and on my desk, and in my living room, and, I’m not embarrassed to say, sometimes even in the bathroom), I’m lucky to have enough space to peel a few pears. That’s a good thing, actually, because it means I can make this dessert all winter long, no matter what shape my kitchen counter is in. Once peeled, just pop the pears in the oven, and when they come out, strain out the liquid and use it as a base for one of the best—and easiest—caramel sauces imaginable.

I once worked with a French waiter known for a fierce scowl that could cause even the most self-assured chef and diner to wither. He tasted one spoonful of these peaches and told me that this was his idea of the perfect dessert. It was one of the few times I saw him smile. But what’s not to like? Icy peaches floating in sweet red wine is pretty close to perfection, if I do say so myself. His good mood didn’t last very long. But after that, every time we passed each other, I knew from the tiny gleam in his eye that I’d won the admiration of my toughest customer.

If you’re starting to feel a little, um, bulky as summer approaches, keep this fruity cobbler in mind because it’s a lean, but delicious, dessert. The biscuits are moistened by a healthy pour of buttermilk, and the modest amount of butter provides flavor without weighing the biscuits (or you) down. The other great thing is that the biscuits are made in a bowl and simply spooned over the fruit, rather than rolled out and cut, making this a no-sweat dessert (another plus in summer).

I was in line at an outdoor market in Paris and une dame d’un certain âge in front of me was getting a lesson on preparing rhubarb from la vendeuse, who insisted that rhubarb absolutely, positively had to be peeled before cooking. Having prepared quite a bit of rhubarb, often in a professional capacity, I figured I could add my deux centimes, so I spoke up, telling them that I’d never done that and that it really wasn’t necessary. Immediately, the line of French housewives erupted, insisting that yes, you simply must peel rhubarb. Seeing as I was outnumbered, I decided to not argue the point. Safely back at home, I’ll admit with confidence that I’ve never found the need to peel rhubarb for a recipe, but I have experimented with using it in unconventional ways and found that it has a remarkable affinity for pineapple and raspberries, a mix that makes a delicious fruit cobbler—which no one should have any quibbles with.

With such a strong almond-like flavor, it makes sense to think that authentic Italian amaretti cookies are made with almonds. But, in fact, it’s apricot kernels that give them their robust, nutlike bite. Whatever the source of their flavor, amaretti cookies have a remarkable affinity for stone fruits such as peaches. I often double (or triple) the recipe for this topping and freeze the leftover in a zippered plastic bag. That way, I have some on hand and can bake up a crisp at a moment’s notice.

I’m a big fan of fruit crisps. When I worked at Chez Panisse, I learned I wasn’t alone—they were more popular than our signature dark chocolate cake. But I’m not entirely convinced that I’d choose a fruit crisp over chocolate cake. Maybe I’d order both in the name of research. This fruit crisp topping, made with crunchy polenta, stands up well to the juiciest mélange of fruits. Here, I mix apples and pears, and it may seem like a lot of fruit when you’re doing all that peeling and slicing, but it cooks down considerably during baking. Use a good baking apple, such as Gravenstein, Winesap, Pippin, Northern Spy, or Cortland.

My friend Cindy Meyers, who tested many of the recipes in this book and my two previous ones, wrote me, excitedly, that this dessert was her favorite of all that she tested. “The almond topping is so fluffy!” she commented. Considering she’s someone that I look to for criticism, when praise comes forth, I’m flattered.