Fruit

My sister Sarah, the planet’s most outrageously particular eater, once told me: “I would rather starve than eat something that isn’t a symphony in my mouth.” As I would gladly eat a toupee if my blood sugar sank low enough, people like Sarah are like Martians to me. This cake is the perfect bridge between you and the Sarahs in your life. When I finally had the chance to offer her a slice, she took a bite, shut her eyes, raised a finger like a conductor’s baton, and began humming Beethoven’s Fifth. No joke. I’ve really become partial to the strawberry filling, but on occasion, at Sarah’s request, I substitute both blackberries and blueberries. Stay creative.

Before BabyCakes NYC, my dreams were limited to potential hairstyles, sarcastic comebacks, and still more prospective hairstyles. Nowadays, I dream almost exclusively of baked goods. One restless night, after being awakened by images of a fluffy blueberry cake topped with spiced crumbs and a rich vanilla sauce, I sprinted to the bakery to begin testing. I encountered a few setbacks, but once I found out that the crumb cooks faster than the base and must be added halfway through baking, my dream came true. Please don’t trust your instincts with this one; the window for applying the crumb is small. Add it too soon and your crumb topping will burn, too late and it will be soggy. Use those timers, people!

All right, pull the Stepford Wife ensemble out of mothballs and apply your signature color lipstick: It’s photo time! While the still-life aesthetic of this cupcake is its own reward, I swear on my highlights that the taste surpasses its beauty. Make sure to avoid overchopping your cherry chunks, and try for a nice, thick lemon zest—the added texture pairs neatly with the creamy frosting.

Many allergic, health-conscious, and vegan bakers are quick to write off macaroons because two of the three ingredients are sugar and eggs. But with a versatile crumb mixture (pages 115–116) at your disposal, this isn’t a problem. Grab your preferred crumb (I like vanilla for this recipe) and get to it. Make sure that when spooned out, your mixture retains its shape on the baking sheet; if it falls apart, it’s too dry and you need to add a bit more agave. If it spreads, you’ve gone overboard with the agave and need to add more crumb. The baked macaroons will be the same size as the uncooked. Because of the intensity of the coconut, I prefer them the size of a melon-ball scoop or even a bit smaller.

When my aunt Cathy dropped by our house for a visit and tea, she was always packing a loaf of banana bread baked at her restaurant, Harry’s Coffee Shop, in La Jolla, California. Under her strong encouragement, I’d chow piece after piece until I’d scarfed nearly an entire loaf. “It’s good for her!” she’d say as my mother looked on in slight horror. And I believed her. I mean, banana bread? Come on! Eating that pillowy deliciousness was like getting extra-credit points for free. Of course, in adulthood I discovered that this supposed health bread, like everything else tasty, was virtually a heart attack in loaf form. Butter? Eggs? Bleached flour? Sugar?! Aunt Cathy, take note: Below is how you do it while sparing yourself—and your behind—the grief. If you’d like to take this recipe to the next level, include 1 cup of chocolate chips when you add the banana. You will not be sorry.

There are only five circumstances under which a person wants chocolate for breakfast: (1) You dumped your boyfriend or husband in a champagne-soaked tantrum the night before. (2) Based on the contents of your fridge, it’s either chocolate sauce or a spoonful of mustard. (3) You are under the age of eight. (4) You are pregnant. (5) You have just whipped up a batch of these babies. These scones are light and elegant compared to traditional scones, whose texture often sets my stomach on spin cycle.

This is as close to a traditional scone as BabyCakes NYC comes. I 86’ed the butter, obviously, and played up the sweet, all without abandoning the light-yet-satisfying texture. I find that raspberries, more delicate than currants or other popular berries used in scones, have a tanginess that’s a perfect accompaniment to morning tea.

Rich, flaky shortcake is a perfect showcase for luscious strawberries.

Is there anything better than having older sisters? When Kathy and Suzi left for college in Northern California, we younger sisters were shipped off for monthlong summer visits. With Kathy, days were spent ripping around in her Honda sedan, blasting Prince, popping doughnut holes by the bucketful, and making emergency stops at Contempo Casual. After we blew our babysitting money on stretch pants, we’d head over to Suzi’s and rehab our sugar hangovers by getting back to nature. We’d raft down to the grocery store (seriously) and take leisurely bike rides. Suzi’s pantry was stuffed with strange cereals (where were the neon-purple pieces?), whole-wheat pancake mix, and blueberry muffins. Bridget immediately went on a hunger strike, while I snuck snacks in the laundry room, discovering this new world of health-minded food. I quickly fell for the blueberry muffin, and it’s been a close friend ever since. What follows is my version—it’s light and sweet and I think you’ll find it perfect for nearly every occasion.

To many, ginger is synonymous with either the flabby pink shavings plopped beside a sushi roll or the too-sweet soda you were given on your sickbed. For years, I snubbed the root on those grounds, but after opening the bakery, I quickly found I was in the minority. Here’s the thing you need to remember about baking with ginger: It needs a sidekick, or even two. For me, a subtle peach, baked to sweet surrender, is the ideal complement to ginger’s perfumy heat. For this recipe, corn bread is the naturally sweet and grainy foundation.

To me, apple muffins that offer up a mouthful of mealy mashed apple chunks are a personal affront. Fortunately, such abominations are easily avoided, a simple matter of proper fruit selection. Forget for a minute your preferences when choosing an apple to eat out of hand (I’m talking to you, Red Delicious loyalists). For this recipe, you can’t go wrong with tart, substantial Granny Smiths, especially when they’ve been roasted to caramelized perfection. If you prefer something sweeter, go halfsies with Granny Smith and either Pink Lady or Fuji, both of which deliver a fragrant bonus and add a depth of flavor even the ordinarily oblivious will notice.

When you tame the slight acidity of raspberries with the natural sweetness of beets, you come up with a flavor profile like none other. In addition to serving this sauce with Chocolate-Beet Cake (page 29), you could use it as the start of a trifle. Try one with crumbled Chocolate Meringues (page 209) and fresh berries and unsweetened whipped cream, maybe with a layer of Strawberry Sorbet (page 236). You could also serve this sauce with yogurt and granola.

Sure you can spoon this sauce over ice cream, but you can also make it to serve with waffles or pancakes. Or even as a dip for toasted Brioche (page 194).

I’d serve this sauce with any sweet cake, like toffee pudding, or use it as a topping for a summer sundae.

I love all things fried, so I had to add a sweet tempura to my dessert menu. The batter comes out of the fryer crisp and full of flavor—a great foil for the sweet and tangy dipping sauce.

I think aromatic kumquats walk a line between oranges and lemons, and they aren’t bitter at all when you cook them properly. You could chop these up and bake them in a sponge cake, or fold them into a mousse that could use a shot of acidity. Fill them with soft cheese or mousse and put them out after dinner as petits fours. Or just serve with ice cream.

Gregory Gourreau, my cooking partner when I was sous-chef at Daniel, worked on a dish where he froze citrus into something that resembled a mosaic. I loved the idea and played with it for a while, until I came up with this refreshing block of oranges. I like to use a 4-inch square plastic tube to form the citrus mixture, but you could just as easily use two 15-ounce cans. Remove the tops and bottoms and wash them well.

I candy Etrog citrons in the restaurant, but I’ve adapted the recipe for good old lemons. You could chop this up and fold it into whipped cream. Or serve over ice cream.

There are so many uses for this preserve, which captures the zing of the citrus. Chop it up and use it as a garnish for sweet sorbets or as a marmalade on buttered Brioche (page 194). Or wrap a strawberry or a piece of melon with a slice of this lemon, stick a toothpick through it, and you’ve got a fruit canapé. I’m not giving a yield or amounts here, because you can make as much of this classic preserve as you wish. If they’re in season, Meyer lemons are what you want.

These days, I like to carbonate my curds (see page 134, for example), but you could serve this one, with its mix of lemon, lime, and orange, as is, spooned over berries or over sorbet, or both.